A New India
Chapter 219 - 219: Defending Canal

Dust storms rose from ground as the advancing armor of the United Kingdom, France, and Israel, their combined forces pushing relentlessly toward the strategic choke points guarding the Suez Canal.

British Centurion tanks led the charge, their guns pounding Indian and Egyptian defensive positions.

Behind them, columns of French mechanized infantry advanced, their armored carriers bristling with soldiers ready to exploit any breach.

Indian troops, however, stood firm. Reinforced by Egyptian units, they had entrenched themselves along a ridgeline overlooking the valley.

The canal, and Egypt itself, depended on this line holding.

The stakes were clear: if the enemy broke through, there would be nothing stopping them from seizing Cairo.

The first wave came at dawn.

The British tanks opened fire from over a kilometer away, their shells screaming across the sand.

Indian anti-tank crews, positioned carefully along the ridge, waited silently for the perfect moment.

"Hold," murmured Captain Ravi crouched behind a cluster of rocks with his Rajputana Rifles.

His binoculars tracked the approaching tanks, the sun shining off their steel hulls.

His men were calm, their fingers resting lightly on the triggers of their rifles.

The tanks rumbled closer, their fire intensifying as they targeted suspected defensive positions.

Explosions rocked the ridge, throwing up plumes of sand and debris.

Malik's radio crackled with the voice of Major Arun Prakash. "Wait until they're in range. We need them fully committed before we hit back."

"Understood," Malik replied, lowering his binoculars.

The British armor advanced steadily, flanked by French APCs.

Behind them, waves of infantry followed, their weapons trained on the ridge.

Suddenly, the lead Centurion tank ground to a halt, its turret turning toward a suspected gun nest.

A shell blasted into the rocks, narrowly missing an Indian soldier who scrambled for cover.

"Now!" Malik yelled into the radio.

Indian Carl Gustaf recoilless rifles roared to life.

Their operators, dug into concealed positions, fired with precision.

The first tank erupted in a ball of fire, its turret spinning off as the ammunition inside detonated.

Cheers erupted briefly from the Indian line before being drowned out by the enemy's furious response.

The British armor retaliated with overwhelming firepower, their guns hammering the ridge.

Malik ducked as a shell struck nearby, the shockwave throwing sand and shrapnel into the air. "Keep firing!" he shouted to his men. "Don't let them regroup!"

On the far flank, Sergeant Man Bahadur and his Gurkhas waited in silence.

Positioned on high ground, they watched the French infantry attempting to outflank the Indian lines.

Bahadur raised a hand, signaling his men to prepare.

The Gurkhas were armed with rifles, grenades, and their iconic khukuris, each soldier ready for close combat.

"Let them come closer," Bahadur whispered, his voice steady despite the tension.

The French troops, unaware of the Gurkhas' position, advanced cautiously.

Bahadur waited until they were within fifty meters before giving the signal.

His men opened fire, their ambush cutting through the French ranks like a scythe.

Panicked shouts filled the air as the French soldiers scrambled for cover, but the Gurkhas were relentless.

They swept down from their position, their khukuris flashing in the sunlight as they engaged the survivors in brutal hand-to-hand combat.

On the main line, Colonel Satish Nair's artillery unleashed a deafening barrage.

Positioned behind the ridgeline, the 105mm howitzers fired shell after shell, targeting the advancing armor and disrupting the enemy's coordination.

Nair's voice was a constant presence over the radio, directing fire with surgical precision.

"Battery One, shift fire to grid 3-5-7! Target those APCs before they unload!" Nair barked.

The howitzers adjusted, their shells raining down on the French armored personnel carriers.

One by one, the vehicles exploded, their troops spilling out in disarray.

Smoke and fire engulfed the battlefield, and the enemy advance began to falter.

The Israelis, positioned on the southern flank, attempted to exploit a gap in the Egyptian lines.

Their Sherman tanks moved swiftly, supported by infantry units equipped with mortars and machine guns.

The Egyptians, struggling to regroup, were close to breaking when Indian reinforcements arrived.

Major Prakash himself led the charge, riding in a jeep as his men dismounted and took up firing positions. "Form up! Pin them down and push them back!" he shouted.

The Indian troops advanced methodically, their rifle fire precise as they targeted the Israeli infantry.

Prakash called in an artillery strike on the lead Sherman tanks, the explosions halting their momentum.

The Indian line surged forward, forcing the Israelis to retreat under heavy fire.

Despite the gains, the battlefield remained chaotic.

A squad of British paratroopers managed to infiltrate the Indian rear, targeting supply lines and communications.

Malik, alerted to the breach, took his men to intercept.

"We've got paratroopers in the rear!" Malik shouted, leading his squad through a maze of sand dunes.

They came upon the British unit, who were setting up a mortar to target the artillery positions.

Malik opened fire, his men following suit as the British scrambled for cover.

The fight was short but fierce. The paratroopers, realizing they were outnumbered, attempted to retreat but were cut down by a flanking maneuver from Malik's squad.

The mortar was destroyed, and the breach was secured.

Meanwhile, Bahadur and his Gurkhas continued to wreak havoc on the French flank.

Their ambush had thrown the enemy into disarray, but reinforcements were arriving fast.

Bahadur ordered his men to fall back to higher ground, using the terrain to their advantage.

"We can't hold this position for long," Bahadur reported over the radio. "The French are regrouping."

"Hold as long as you can," Prakash replied. "I'm sending reinforcements."

The Gurkhas dug in, their fire disciplined as they repelled wave after wave of French troops.

Bahadur's men used grenades and small-arms fire to devastating effect, each attack blunted by their unyielding defense.

On the main line, the British tanks began to withdraw under relentless artillery fire.

Colonel Nair's guns had taken a toll, and the enemy's ability to coordinate was crumbling.

Prakash seized the opportunity to counterattack.

"All units, advance!" Prakash ordered. The Indian and Egyptian troops surged forward, their rifle fire cutting through the retreating enemy.

The valley was full with the sound of battle, but the momentum had shifted.

By late afternoon, the battlefield was strewn with the wreckage of vehicles and the bodies of fallen soldiers.

The combined forces of the UK, France, and Israel had been pushed back, their assault halted.

Indian and Egyptian troops, though battered and bloodied, held their ground.

Prakash stood among his men, his uniform streaked with dirt and sweat.

General Hassan approached, his face a mix of exhaustion and relief. "We've held them," Hassan said, his voice hoarse. "The canal is safe."

"For now," Prakash replied. "Now it's time to counter attack and push them back before they have a chance to reorganise and attack"