anwhile, the huge propellers of two C-130J aircraft began to rotate, kicking up a storm of sand and dust. The SAS mbers conducted a final equipnt check, revealing only a steel-like calm beneath their black masks.
---
Thousands of miles away, at the Northern Border of Sena, it was nearing dusk.
The scorching wind swept up sand and dust, passing over undulating hills and dried riverbeds.
Inside an impeccably camouflaged underground command post, the air was thick with the scents of sweat, engine oil, and cheap tobacco, so heavy it felt like it could be wrung out.
A massive electronic sandbox on the wall took up half the space, clearly displaying the complex terrain of Northern Sena, the situation of both sides, and several glaring red arrows silently pointing towards the Lumar-controlled area in Northern Sena.
Another screen showed almost real-ti updated satellite images, with astonishing resolution.
Song Heping stood in front of the sandbox, his spine straight as a javelin.
He had just put down the satellite phone encrypted through multiple layers, and the last warning from his forr instructor Lei Ming, "Be careful of the British," seed to still buzz beside his ears.
He slowly turned around, his chiseled face devoid of any expression, with only two clusters of icy flas burning deep in his eyes.
"The British…"
His voice was not loud, yet carried a calm honed through experience.
"Looks like they are coming. SAS...airborne…"
He jabbed his finger fiercely at a coordinate point in the heart of the Lumar-controlled zone on the electronic sandbox.
"Bringing their arrogance and Typhoon fighter jets, they want to put dentures on that scum in Lumar to gnaw at our bones."
"Suka Bule!"
White Bear growled lowly, his fist slamming onto the tal tabletop covered with a map, creating a muffled thud.
"Those self-important John Bulls! Do they really think Africa is their backyard? They can just airdrop whenever they want? I'll make them crash into a pulp!"
He grabbed a flat tal flask at the corner of the table, taking a hearty gulp of vodka, the intense aroma of alcohol instantly spreading.
Ferrari, leaning against the communications console, interjected, "Song, they can't chew through our land route, so they definitely plan to fly in. It's ti to show the fangs of our SAM-6 missile battalion."
His tone was light, yet carried a deadly chill.
"Air defense is key."
Song Heping's gaze was sharp as a knife, sweeping over everyone, "The British are not idiots; their Typhoons are top-notch third-generation fighter jets. Right now, we only have outdated MiG-21s and 23s, which in terms of air power, are like a paper window, breakable with a single poke, and absolutely cannot withstand force."
He paused, his tone grave, "SAM-6 is, after all, an old air defense system. Facing Typhoon's long-range strikes and electronic warfare capabilities, the interception success rate… is not promising."
The room instantly plunged into oppressive silence. The reality was harsh and unforgiving.
The "Musician" defense forces in Northern Darfur put everything they had into just assembling two SAM-6 missile companies. Standard configuration: one company equipped with one command vehicle, one tracked chassis 1S91 guidance radar, four tracked triple missile launch vehicles. Combined, two companies yield a total of eight launch vehicles and twenty-four missiles ready to fire.
The numbers seem plentiful, but this air defense system, designed in the sixties, even with later upgrades, faces challenges effectively intercepting modern fighter jets like the Typhoon, with their low detectability, supersonic cruise, and advanced electronic interference thods. Whether they can intercept effectively, everyone's heart is uncertain.
Once the Typhoons tear through the air defense net and enter the airspace of Northern Sena, the consequences are grim. They will provide absolute cover for the transport aircraft airdropping the SAS, and can directly offer aerial fire support for Lumar's counter-attack troops, precisely striking the governnt army's blockade in the northern mountains.
If that fragile line is breached, Lumar's six armored brigades will be like unleashed beasts, expanding across open terrain…
With the British providing special operations guidance and air support, retaking Butare is far from a fantasy.
The air inside the command post seed frozen.
Everyone was rapidly thinking, trying to strategize how to use those old SAM-6s to pull out a chance in adversity.
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