Before Song Heping's voice had finished, suddenly a piercing whistle sounded from the outskirts of the camp.
It was a warning whistle.
It ant an enemy incursion.
Enemy?
Everyone present turned their heads towards the outside of the camp.
In their view, they saw Abbas, the reconnaissance team leader sent by Samir, rolling and crawling through the periter line. His face was ashen, sweat and sand sared all over his face, and his eyes were filled with pure horror. He couldn't even catch his breath before he frantically shouted:
"1515 is attacking! They're coming!"
"What?!"
Samir's face underwent a dramatic change.
After all, previous intelligence indicated that the main force of 1515 was in the Tikrit direction, although those tribal militia leaders and remnants that defected to us claid 1515 ard forces attacked them. We didn't expect them to move so quickly!
In an instant, they've co here?!
"Where did you see them?"
"Forty kiloters away, I drove back desperately to deliver the news. Now, it's estimated they're less than thirty kiloters away!"
Hassan answered, his face filled with horror: "At least three thousand people, and I couldn't see the end of the convoy! I only saw that the leader was a 'Death God Pika' (pickups mounted with heavy machine guns)! Behind were three 'Tanks' modified with truck chassis and welded steel plates. Mounted with KPV heavy machine guns and modified armored trucks with ZU-23 anti-aircraft guns! Southwest direction, they followed the dry riverbed towards us, with dozens of motorcycles at the forefront moving terrifyingly fast!"
"Damn!"
Samir cried out involuntarily.
He wanted to give his team so morale, but when considering the fighting force he had at hand, he instantly lost confidence.
By the looks of it, 1515's ard forces aid to flat out the north, avoiding any threats to their flank.
With his newly equipped but still less than a thousand core combatant troops, fighting back head-on was suicide!
"Allah..."
Samir suddenly gazed towards the southwest Gobi, swallowed by the night, as if he could already see that steel torrent raising an overwhelming death smoke.
"It's them! Definitely those lunatics!"
The tribal leader who had defected earlier suddenly let out an inhuman scream, like a wild dog whose spine had been snapped.
"I saw them in Shafar Village! Those 'Tanks'! They...they used those guns...and flattened the entire village! People...all turned to fragnts! Even...even the kids weren't spared!"
He cried and babbled incoherently, a dark wet stain quickly expanding in his pants crotch, a heavy stench spreading wide.
"Run...run fast! If they catch you...you'll be skinned alive! We're...we're dood!"
Such total collapse, like a fla thrown into boiling oil.
The pandemic of panic exploded instantly, violently sweeping through the entire camp.
The militia that was barely hanging on shattered like glass struck by a heavy hamr!
Soone accidentally dropped a new ammunition box at his feet, producing a heavy sound; soone instinctively held up their gun, but the barrel aimlessly pointed around, with empty eyes filled only with overwhelming despair; others spun in circles like headless flies, producing aningless sobs.
Over a thousand eyes all lost their focus at this mont, clouded with the filthy aura of impending doom.
The air of despair quickly enveloped the entire camp.
"A thousand people...against three thousand..."
A young militiaman muttered dazedly, his voice sounding hollow like sleep-talking. The stock of his AK-47 weakly slid to the ground, kicking up a small cloud of dust.
"Fight...let's fight!"
Another man with a scarred face suddenly roared and swung his fists, veins protruding from his neck: "We have new guns! We have rocket launchers!"
"With what do we fight? Filling with lives? That's three thousand people! Three thousand Mad Dogs!"
Imdiately, soone rebutted with a crying tone, their voice shrieking so sharply that it changed pitch.
Samir tried several tis to open his mouth to roar out a few words to stabilize the troops, yet his throat seed choked with scorching sand.
His mind flashed with the scenes as described by Abbas: the Death God Pika spitting fire rushing through the sand like the wind, Tanks welded with steel plates like moving fortresses, the thick barrel of the ZU-23 indicating destruction with each turn...
And the legendary KPV heavy machine gun that could easily tear humans to pieces! These visions burned hot like a branding iron on his nerve.
His militia, even though equipped with new gear, the vast majority had only held these new weapons for the first ti yesterday, with so not even distinguishing between PKM and DShK safety!
Fight head-on?
That was rely sending himself and these thousand subordinates straight into 1515's decapitation video, becoming a grisly side character in their boasting barbarity.
In the center of the camp, Song Heping coldly watched this chaotic scene unfold.
Discipline.
Bravery.
Will.
Morale.
This team obviously lacked all these.
Illiguo has been consecutively losing ground over the past half year, the governnt army and local militia organizations are fleeing in panic like stray dogs for a reason.
Against those 1515 lunatics brainwashed by extre ideologies, these militants certainly pale in comparison.
"Mr. Song..."
Beside him, Naxin seed also lost, casting hopeful eyes towards Song Heping.
Song Heping ignored him, instead raising his right hand, pulling out a pistol from his waist, swiftly loading it, the action quick and seamless.
In the next mont, he suddenly raised his arm, the muzzle pointing directly at the sky.
"Bang——!"
"Bang——!"
"Bang——!"
Three consecutive trigger pulls.
The deafening three gunshots, like exploding thunder, instantly froze all the militia present as if they had been acupunctured.
All the noisy sounds were abruptly cut off by this sudden thunderous strike.
Ti seed to have been paused.
More than a thousand pairs of eyes, still shaken, focused on Song Heping.
"Pathetic! Why panic?!"
Song Heping slowly lowered his arm, the barrel still emitting a faint blue smoke.
"Only those who are not afraid to die have the right to live! You cowards! No wonder you've lost so much land over the past six months, if you're afraid to die, why fear national extinction? Falling into the hands of 1515, you won't die?! A bunch of fools!"
He rcilessly cursed at the group of n in front of him, his gaze colder than tal soaked in icy water all day, his tone filled with contempt.
The militia looked at one another.
Many lowered their heads in sha.
Song Heping is an outsider.
He doesn't belong to this country.
Nor is he of this nationality.
An outsider wasn't panicking, yet the Illiguo n were panic-stricken, so even wetting themselves on the spot...
It's truly embarrassing to speak of.
No matter how cowardly, a man still has his own dignity.
The previous atmosphere of panic seed to dissipate sowhat.
Seeing that the timing was right, Song Heping shouted loudly, "I will take command now, and you all listen to !"
"Spread my orders, all Liberation Forces combat units enter the highest state of readiness! Samir!"
His gaze, like an arrow, instantly pinned on Samir.
"Yes! Boss!"
Samir, almost reflexively, straightened his back, gritting his teeth.
"I... I'll lead the team to fight them now!"
Song Heping stepped off the ammo box, instantly moving in close to Samir.
Their noses almost touched, Song Heping's hot breath sprayed directly on Samir's sweat-covered face.
His voice was extrely low, yet firm and powerful:
"Idiot! Rember who you are! You are the spark! The blade that will shred those Mad Dogs in the future! Your duty isn't to charge with your pitiful force and die now, it's to take these brothers——"
Song Heping's arm suddenly swung wide, pointing to those around with expectant faces.
"Take them to Border Point A! Right under the Persians' noses! To a place where we can sharpen our claws and teeth, and where these new guns can truly drink the blood of revenge! Charging in now, what is it? A spark stomped out by Mad Dogs before it's even lit! New weapons becoming their trophies of war before they're tasted! Everyone becoming their next bloody beheading video online! Samir! Think about what I've said—preserve people and lose land, both survive! Preserve land and lose people, both are lost! Execute the order!"
Song Heping's gaze, like two steel awls, stabbed deeply into Samir's eyes, with no room for negotiation, like a vat of liquid nitrogen at minus one hundred degrees, instantly extinguishing the reckless and bloodthirsty madness in Samir's eyes.
Samir's chest heaved violently, jaws clenched tight, the heavy taste of blood spreading in his mouth, almost suffocating him.
A few seconds of dead silence, long as centuries.
Suddenly, he turned sharply, raising his right hand.
"Liber——ation——For——ces——!"
Samir's shout instantly drowned out all noise in the camp.
"Imdiate evacuation! Target——Point A! Move! Load up! Fast! Fast! Fast!!"
This shout was like a spark thrown into boiling oil, instantly igniting the camp frozen by fear and despair!
Orders like wildfire spread rapidly!
The instinct for survival, honed by harsh training, instantly took over the body!
"Move! Move! Quickly load the ammo onto the trucks! Prioritize the new toys, those old tents can be left behind, prioritize the ammunition! PKM! DShK! RPG! 107 shells! Fast!"
All the squad leaders were rallied as well.
They shouted hoarsely, neck veins bulging under the scorching sun.
Soldiers, like wind-up machines, shouted commands, stumbled, and rushed to the piles of supplies.
Heavy ammo boxes were frantically passed, thrown, rolled onto truck beds on the scorching sand, making dull and rapid collisions.
Brand new PKM general-purpose machine guns, glaring DShK heavy machine guns, bundles of RPG-7 rocket launchers, green-painted 107mm rocket shells...
These weapons, symbols of future hope, were secured on sizzling trucks by soldiers with the fastest speed.
Crude tents were violently torn down, flipped over, with the sounds of canvas ripping incessantly.
Rusty old AK rifles that couldn't be taken were piled into small hills, Naxin, with his "Fox Killer" squad engineers, darted like phantoms, their movents dazzlingly fast, quickly stuffing makeshift trap mines deep into the piles of debris, connecting them to tripwires or pressure triggers.
The tribal leader still sitting on the ground with wet pants was rudely dragged and shoved aside by so militia, like discarding an unnecessary piece of trash, no one sparing a glance of pity.
The entire camp, within a few minutes, transford from near-collapse chaos into a highly efficient yet apocalyptic retreat machine under the scorching sun.
The clash of tal, roar of engines, desperate urgings, sounds of breaking and tearing...
All rged into a massive, terrifying noise flood, surging madly under the pursuit of the Grim Reaper's shadow, under the oppressive midday sun.
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