The air in the underground command post was unbearably stuffy.
Everyone's forehead was covered in sweat, and the sour sll of sweat-soaked military uniforms filled each person's nostrils...
The ventilation system had long been out of commission from previous shelling, relying only on a few ergency generators to weakly drive the fans, like a drop in the ocean.
The radio channels were filled with static hissing, and the voices of the staff officers were hoarse, rapidly repeating orders and receiving battle reports, their voices distorted from extre fatigue and tension.
Song Heping stood before the gigantic operations sand table, his gaze always fixed on the miniature model of Halaib City.
On it, the red flags and arrows representing enemy forces had already, like malignant cancer spots, deeply infiltrated the core area of the city, resembling bloodthirsty red pythons, madly entwining and biting the defensive line marked in blue.
With every report of "loss of position" or "loss of contact," an adjutant by the sand table would tremble as they pulled a small blue flag or toppled a section of the blue defense line model.
Each such action ant another neighborhood had fallen, another group of soldiers lay down forever.
"...East Zone Third District has lost contact! Repeat, East Zone Third District has lost contact! The last communication was... it was the sound of self-destruction..."
A young adjutant, still with fuzz on his lips, yanked off his headset violently, his voice trembling uncontrollably, his face pale as paper.
"Bastards!"
Admiral Jamal's bloodshot eyes were nearly bulging out, as he pounded a fist on the map-covered table, causing the entire sand table to shake.
"Have the Third Company of the reserves take up position! Imdiately! Tell the company commander to hold the passage west of the city hall at any cost, even if it ans fighting down to the last man and shedding the last drop of blood! We must not let the enemy sever our defense line in two! Otherwise, we're all done for!"
The order was quickly relayed through the hissing radio, but everyone in the command post knew clearly in their hearts.
Reserves?
That was just a nice na.
They were rely dozens of exhausted, scarred soldiers barely scraped together from other positions, so even lightly wounded.
They were like a handful of sand cast into the roaring lava flow, to be consud and evaporated by the scorching death in an instant, unable to stir even a ripple.
Song Heping's expression remained nearly brutally composed, a mask honed by years of a life amidst the smoke of war.
Only those most familiar with him, like the Chef standing by his side, could glean the imnse pressure and turmoil he bore inside, from the slight press of his lips and the fleeting, intense anxiety deep in his eyes.
Halaib, this once prosperous city, had now utterly transford into a gigantic, greedy mill of flesh and blood.
It was devouring, consuming the last precious forces of the Silia Governnt Army with astonishing speed.
The soldiers' fighting spirit was beyond reproach, yet the sacrifice remained heartbreakingly sorrowful.
Song Heping knew one truth well: a commander must be as strong as steel inside.
There must be no pity.
Especially in a head-on, life-and-death confrontation.
Whoever softens first, loses first.
But he also understood that modern warfare was never just a contest of will.
In the face of the enemy's overwhelming troop superiority, continuous supply logistics, and overwhelming firepower, relying solely on will to resist was, in itself, a tragedy of unspeakable brutality and despair.
The real key to victory was no longer in this war of attrition within Halaib City.
The chips in his hand were far fewer than those of Abu Omar.
The critical point of this battle's outco lay with those two special troops stealthily advancing through the dark night, attempting to deliver a fatal strike to the enemy.
His gaze traveled past the sand table representing mountains of corpses and blood to two inconspicuous points on the edges—Dehuk inside Illiguo territory to the east, and Otaiba Town near the Jordanian border to the west.
There lay the faint glimr of hope to turn the tide of the entire battle.
He took a deep breath, picked up the microphone of another dedicated encrypted communication channel, his fingers calmly adjusting the frequency, his voice steady without a hint of emotion: "Hive calling Peregrine One, respond if you read . Over."
After a brief static noise, Jiang Feng's slightly hurried but exceptionally clear and calm voice ca back, with light, rapid footsteps and the sound of wind rushing through the empty river valley in the background: "Peregrine One reading, go ahead, Hive. Over."
"Peregrine One, report your exact position and current situation. Over."
Song Heping asked, sending an understanding glance to the Chef beside him.
The Chef imdiately leaned in closer in tacit understanding, almost pressing his bald head against the microphone, listening intently.
"Hive, reporting: my unit successfully bypassed the northeastern checkpoint 1515, approximately five kiloters from Dehuk, 25 minutes ago. Our Persian friends' 'Migratory Bird' drones provided precise warnings and route guidance. Currently, my team is swiftly crossing Dry River Valley 7. The valley is littered with gravel, slightly affecting our speed, but we estimate reaching the designated attack initiation position on Dehuk's east side (coordinates: E4391, N3285) on ti in four hours. The advance reconnaissance team positioned itself twenty minutes ago and is using thermal imaging to confirm final defense deploynts in the town's east. The explosives team is in good condition, all charges prepared in advance. Over."
User Comments
0 comments from readers