Target distance: 625 ters.
He felt the gap between his heartbeats, at the most steady mont between two beats, his index finger calmly and evenly applied pressure, pulling the trigger.
"Bang!"
The SVD rifle body jolted suddenly, the 7.62x54mm R rimd cartridge case popped out of the ejection port with smoke, landing on the scorching sand with a crisp clink.
The warhead spun out of the barrel at an initial velocity of 830 ters per second, instantly crossing the death distance of over six hundred ters!
On the turret, the main ZU-23 gunner, who was enjoying the shooting, had his laughing face freeze instantly, his head snapped backward as if struck by a hamr.
The black turban he wore and a large chunk of the back of his skull disappeared in an instant, the red and white mix splattering backward in a radial spray on the hot gun barrel, armor plates, and the loader behind him.
0.5 seconds later, this guy's body went limp, collapsing like a bag of rotten mud on the turret position.
"Switch! Quickly! Allah punish these infidels!"
The commanding officer inside the armored truck saw this scene through the observation slit, screaming into the communicator in panic.
Another militant, roaring, threw open the hatch to climb up and take over, but Song Heping's muzzle had already made an imperceptible adjustnt, the crosshairs firmly locking onto the narrow observation slit on the commander's hatch.
The slit was only 25 centiters wide.
At a distance of over six hundred ters, it was as tiny as a strand of hair.
But it was still useless.
It couldn't possibly block Song Heping's superb sniping skills.
"Bang!"
The second 7.62mm sniper bullet penetrated the observation slit accurately.
The commander's screams abruptly stopped, his body slamd onto the steering wheel heavily, and blood gushed out of the observation slit.
Nearly simultaneously, Naxin pulled his trigger not far away.
A flash appeared at the muzzle of his SVD sniper rifle.
"Bang!"
The gunner who had just climbed onto the second ZU-23 armored truck was also hit squarely in the face, his entire upper body toppling backward and sliding off the turret.
The two deadliest fire platforms were silenced in an instant.
This dealt a devastating blow to the morale and fire support of the 1515 forces.
The remaining militants' retaliatory firepower in the riverbed weakened significantly.
Song Heping's SVD sniper rifle was like the Grim Reaper's roster on the battlefield, its muzzle continuously spitting deadly flas.
He precisely sought out the most valuable targets.
Every breath was steady and long, every shot precisely lethal.
This ti it was a small leader, waving a gold-plated pistol, hiding behind a pickup wreck attempting to organize a scattered charge with desperate screams.
Bang!
The bullet pierced through the thin steel door, exploding a bowl-sized blood hole in his chest, and he fell backward, the gold-plated pistol flying from his hand.
A communications soldier, carrying a cumberso R-147 radio station, curled up behind a rock, desperately calling for rear support, holding a radio walkie-talkie frantically.
Bang!
The bullet pierced through a rock crevice, taking out the radio and the sweat-covered head wearing headphones, and the electric buzz instantly ceased.
Every gunshot was accompanied by the instant disappearance of a key target.
Song Heping's shooting frequency didn't pursue extre speed, but each shot was calculated with precision, exceptionally lethal.
He fully utilized the complex terrain of the valley, the surrounding smoke, and the heat waves generated by burning vehicles as cover, moving soundlessly like a Ghost between several predetermined sniper points.
His actions were calm, precise, efficient, with not an extra movent.
The scorching brass cartridge cases continuously popped out of the ejection port, landing on the hot sand, emitting crisp clinks, like the Grim Reaper tallying deaths on an abacus.
The Suicide Squad mbers watched as enemy leaders and heavy weapon operators were precisely sniped as if swatted away by bullets coming from afar. The fear and tension once suppressed by enemy fire were replaced by an almost blind worship and boiling fighting spirit.
"The Boss is watching us! The Boss is helping us!"
"Allah is great! Kill all these beasts!"
"For our dead loved ones! Revenge! Kill!"
Morale erupted like a detonated powder keg.
The Suicide Squad mbers erupted with fiercer, more precise firepower.
They used their familiarity with the terrain to continually move shooting positions between simple shelters, accurately striking down approaching pickups with the RPG-7, using intersecting fire from the PKM and DShK to suppress the exposed infantry on the riverbed firmly.
Samir even personally led an anti-tank team, carrying the last spare "Konkurs" missile launcher, venturing to a protruding rock under the cover of Naxin's squad fire, aiming at the "Tank" lying inoperative with only its PKT machine gun firing futilely from less than three hundred ters away!
"Whoosh——!"
The missile roared out trailing conspicuous white smoke!
"Boom——!"
The violent explosion completely ended the last struggle of the steel beast, blowing a huge hole in the vehicle side, with flas and thick smoke pouring wildly out.
However, the "Liberation Forces" militia's Suicide Squad was nonetheless limited in number.
Their opponent had three thousand n.
The battle quickly entered the most brutal and bloody phase of attrition.
Although the 1515 forces' vanguard suffered heavy losses, with commanders and heavy fire points being constantly sniped, their overwhelming numbers and human wave tactics remained terrifying.
These brainwashed extremists seed to have a numb disregard for death.
The following militants tramped over their comrades' piled-up corpses and burning wreckage, under the suppression of the remaining vehicle-mounted heavy machine guns and supervisory teams, surged toward the Suicide Squad positions like an endless black tide, wave after wave.
User Comments
0 comments from readers