They utilized their overwhelming nurical advantage to launch a fierce assault from multiple directions, trying to cut off and surround the desperately outnumbered Suicide Squad.
Soon, extremists from the 1515 Ard forces charged up the sandy slope of the riverbed like a tidal wave.
Ferocious hand-to-hand combat broke out on multiple front lines!
"Grenade!"
A mber of the Suicide Squad roared, pulling out the safety pin of an F-1 defensive lemon hand grenade, and after a two-second delay, he hurled it with all his might into the enemy crowd that had approached to within just over twenty ters.
"Boom!"
Fragnts swept across like the scythe of the Grim Reaper, cutting down several enemies with screams, their bodies torn to shreds.
But more enemies, eyes bloodshot, surged forward while howling.
Bayonets flashed red!
The butt of the rifle, wielded with imnse force, struck the body with a thud of cracking bones.
Sharpened daggers stabbed and slashed viciously at close range! Fists, teeth, stones—all beca weapons.
Roaring cries! Agonized screams of the dying. The despairing wails of the wounded.
This madness unfolded at the narrow edges of trenches, behind the ridges of sand dunes, amidst the twisted wreckage of vehicles.
Blood, like small streams, soaked into the dry sand and quickly congealed into dark brown lumps under the scorching sun, emanating a nauseating, thick, sweet tallic sll.
Suicide Squad mbers continuously fell, only to be imdiately replaced by enraged comrades, shouting as they filled their positions.
Everyone was seeing red.
It's either you die, or I die!
No way out!
Even the tribal leader who once wet himself with fear was emboldened now.
Blood was the best courage stimulant.
When the blood of your comrade splashes on you, you gain the courage of two people, bearing the hatred of two.
His left arm was torn open by a stray bullet, the blood soaking through his sleeve, yet he was oblivious.
He brandished a sword, charging into a small group of enemies attempting to break through the flank, screaming with all his strength the nas of his deceased wife and child: "Amina! Hassan! Watch as Dad avenges you!!!"
He was like a mad tiger, slashing open an enemy's neck with one swing, hot blood spraying across his face, but without hesitating, he swung backhand and sliced into another enemy's shoulder.
Just as he downed the second enemy, another enemy with a twisted face suddenly stabbed a bayonet into his abdon from the side!
"Aah!"
The excruciating pain made the tribal leader's body jerk violently.
Yet there was no sign of fear in his bloodshot eyes, only burning madness.
He let out a wild roar, disregarded the deeply embedded bayonet, dropped his sword, and with his last ounce of strength, firmly grasped the terrified enemy, while with his right hand he sharply pulled the safety ring from an F-1 hand grenade he had prepared at his waist!
"Allahu Akbar!!! Let's go to hell together!!!"
"Boom——!!!"
A much more intense explosion than a single grenade erupted.
The fierce fire and shockwave instantly engulfed the tribal leader and the enemy he held tightly, along with three other charging militants nearby.
Bodies burst open like overinflated balloons, fragnted limbs, organs, and hot sand violently mixed and sprayed around.
A cloud mixed with blood mist rose from the explosion point!
"Brother!!!"
Not far away, Samir, witnessing the scene, let out a heart-wrenching cry of anguish and rage.
He swiftly turned his PKM machine gun towards the remnants of the enemy in that area, firing wildly, with the muzzle spitting flas a half foot long!
"Ratatatatata——!"
The hail of bullets, like a storm of steel, cut down the stunned enemies, making them drop one by one like wheat in a gale.
This ultimate and tragic act of mutual destruction branded itself like a searing iron onto the hearts of every Suicide Squad mber witnessing it.
After a brief mont of shock ca an even more frantic fury.
The will to fight soared to its peak!
The horrendous intensity of this scene even sent a chill over the zealously brutal and religiously extremist indoctrinated 1515 militants.
They had seen the slaughter of helpless civilians and tortured prisoners beyond fight, but never such fearless opponents willing to exchange life for life, even resorting to detonating grenades to perish with the enemy.
But these three hundred, like three hundred searing red-hot brands, no matter how many lives they used to fill, to pile, would be scorched and brutally wounded.
Perhaps they didn't fear death, but this hopeless, senseless, and wasteful death started to gnaw at their feverish beliefs like a cold poisonous snake.
The later charging militants showed evident hesitation in their steps, their charge cries trembling.
In the distance, Song Heping calmly observed the battlefield situation.
Though the Suicide Squad's morale was high, their casualties were escalating drastically, and ammunition consumption was astounding.
What was more severe was that at the river valley's entrance, the 1515 main forces trapped outside were desperately clearing the landslide area. If they broke through and fresh forces poured in, their side's pressure would instantly surge, risking a collapse of the defensive line.
"Samir! Tighten the line! Abandon all protrusions on the south bank! Provide cover alternately and retreat to the pre-set second defensive line on the north bank!"
Song Heping decisively ordered, his tone undeniable.
"Rocket launcher team! Two final volleys! Cover the enemy's central gathering area at the riverbed! Delay their pursuit as much as possible! Destroy the launcher imdiately after firing, and reatreat with the aiming equipnt!"
"Engineers! Lay trap mines along the pre-set retreat path! Leave them a 'surprise'!"
"Sniper team! Suppress the enemy's pursuing forces with full power! Pay special attention to the overseers and officers wielding whips!"
"Quick! Execute orders!"
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