104: Chapter 101 Pump Station

December 20th, Pump Station.

Karimi intercepted a key piece of intelligence.

Rashid, the new weapons warehouse manager for Iraq's Southern Military District, sent word: all T-72 seals have been replaced. One hundred and eighty tanks have all been fitted with Fatima's "special" seals.

The processing of the Mi-24s is slower. Twelve have been completed, with the remaining eight needing to wait until mid-January.

The AT-3s were processed the fastest. The filters for all one thousand five hundred missiles have been replaced.

"Rashid says he can stay at the warehouse for two more weeks at most," Karimi said. "After two weeks, he must evacuate. Someone at the base is auditing his accounts."

"Let him evacuate," Reza said. "Send him and his brother to Turkey. From Turkey, they'll fly to France. Are the passports and money ready?"

"Ready. The French helped with the visas."

"Good. Tell him the mission is accomplished. He is a hero, and we will not mistreat him."

December 25th, Christmas.

Reza had dinner in the Pump Station's control room with Hassan, Karimi, Rajai, Rezai, and Sadiq. The meal was simple—Lamb Pilaf, Naan, and Black Tea.

"Your Highness," Hassan said, "today is Christmas. Do you know what that means?"

"What does it mean?"

"It means there are three months left until the end of March. In three months, we will strike Basra."

"Nervous?" Reza asked.

Hassan smiled. "Not nervous. I was thinking about one thing—if we capture Basra, what will Saddam Hussein do?"

"He will sue for peace," Reza said, "but the sincerity of his peace offer depends on how many cards he still has in his hand. If we take Basra, he'll only have two cards left—the northern stretch of the Shatt al-Arab and the desert west of the Fao Peninsula. Neither of those cards is worth much."

"Will he accept a humiliating peace?"

"No. He'll launch a few counterattacks first, trying to save face. Only when those counterattacks fail will he sue for peace. A man like Saddam Hussein won't admit defeat until the very last step."

"Then how far do we have to push before he admits defeat?"

"Until his army loses its offensive capability, his regime begins to shake, and his allies start to abandon him," Reza said. "That step might come three months to half a year after we take Basra."

On December 28th, Reza received a telegram from Paris.

It was sent by Ponce himself: "The technical data for the Mirage F1 is ready. Please send someone to Paris to collect it. Additionally, the MILAN missile production line is expected to arrive in Ahvaz in mid-February. The French government hopes Your Highness will achieve victory in the Battle of Basra."

After reading the telegram, Reza handed it to Karimi.

"The French are pushing us to go to war."

"Why?"

"Because they want to see their weapons perform on the battlefield. Once a weapon builds a reputation, it's easier to sell to other countries."

"So, should we show them?"

"Yes. But not now. After Basra is taken, let the French send an observation team. They can see whatever they want."

December 31st, the last day of 1980.

Reza stood on the rooftop of the Pump Station, looking at the night sky.

In the distance, the Iraqi camp was brightly lit. They were celebrating the New Year.

Karimi walked up to his side. "Your Highness, the New Year is almost here."

"Yes," Reza said. "A lot has happened this year."

"The war, the Pump Station, the siege, the passage," Karimi said. "Then the general mobilization, the French, the Soviets, and now the move on Basra."

"There's one more thing you didn't mention," Reza said.

"What?"

"The legacy of the Pahlavi Dynasty. It has been five months since my father passed away. In these five months, not a day has gone by that I haven't thought of him."

Karimi fell silent.

"When he died, I was fighting in Khuzestan. I didn't attend the funeral—not because I didn't want to, but because I knew if I went to Tehran, I might never come back."

"Do you regret it?"

"I don't regret it," Reza said, "but I owe him a farewell."

He took out that deep blue notebook and wrote a line on the newest page:

"1980 ends. This year, I went from a royal outcast to a battlefield commander. Next year, I will make the world remember my name."

He closed the notebook and looked at the western sky.

The New Year was coming.

The war continued.

January 5th, 1981, Ahvaz.

Preparations for the Battle of Basra officially began.

Reza moved his headquarters from the Pump Station to Ahvaz. It was further from Basra, but the communication conditions were better, and there was enough space to accommodate the staff team.

The new headquarters was set up in an abandoned school on the outskirts of Ahvaz. Karimi was in charge of communications and intelligence, Hassan was in charge of operational planning, and Fatima was in charge of logistics and equipment. The three of them, along with over twenty staff officers, formed a lean but efficient command team.

"First thing," Reza said at the first operational meeting, "intelligence."

Karimi stood up and walked to the map.

"Iraq's defense in Basra is divided into three layers. The outer layer, fifteen to twenty kilometers from the city, consists mainly of anti-tank trenches, minefields, and observation posts. The middle layer, five to ten kilometers from the city, consists of infantry and artillery positions. The inner layer, inside the urban area, consists of barricades, sniper points, and militia strongholds."

"What about the troop distribution?" Reza asked.

"The outer layer has about two brigades, six thousand men, mostly armor and engineers. The middle layer has about four brigades, twelve thousand men, mostly infantry and artillery. The inner layer, including garrison forces and militia, has about thirty thousand men."

"Less than fifty thousand in total," Hassan said. "Fewer than we estimated."

"Because Iraq moved some of its forces to the north," Karimi said. "Iran's diversionary offensive toward Sulaymaniyah worked. The Iraqis are worried the Kurds will take the opportunity to seek independence, so they kept two divisions from the Northern Military District in place instead of moving them south."

Reza nodded. "This is our chance. The Iraqi forces are spread thin, and the Basra garrison is at least ten thousand fewer than expected."

"But there's one more thing," Karimi said. "The Iraqis have stockpiled a large amount of ammunition and supplies in Basra. If it turns into urban warfare, they have enough resources to hold out for a month."

"So it must not turn into urban warfare," Reza said. "We must destroy their main force outside the city before they can retreat into the urban area."

On January 10th, Fatima sent word from Ahvaz: the first batch of one thousand MILAN missiles was complete.

Reza personally went to the factory to inspect the batch. On the production line, workers were busy assembling missile bodies, testing seekers, and packaging finished products. A pungent chemical smell permeated the air.

"One thousand missiles," Fatima said. "All tests passed. Range is two thousand meters, penetration is seven hundred millimeters."

"Can they hit further?" Reza asked.

"The MILAN's maximum range is two thousand meters, but the effective range is only one thousand five hundred meters. Beyond that, the hit rate drops."

"That's enough," Reza said. "The Iraqi anti-tank fire points are ten to fifteen kilometers outside the city. Our tanks can hit their positions from one thousand five hundred meters away, and they won't be able to reach us."

"One more thing," Fatima said. "Production of the Persia-2 anti-aircraft missile is up. We can produce three hundred in January, five hundred in February, and seven hundred in March."

"Prioritize allocation to the offensive forces. The Iraqi helicopters are the biggest threat."