"This was an accident... This encounter completely exceeded our initial expectations, and the mistakes in battle are not yours alone, but the mistakes of our entire team."
He changed the focus back to reality.
"Now's not the ti to hold individuals accountable, it'll only get us killed faster! The priority is to calm down, assess our current situation, and decide what to do next!"
He imdiately issued new orders: "'Signal,' this is the lead vehicle. Imdiately attempt to use all backup ergency frequencies, activate the highest-level 'Storm' encryption protocol, and send the shortest alert code to headquarters: 'Cobra.' Repeat the code: 'Cobra.' ssage content: Possible exposure, encountered enemy technical reconnaissance team, brief exchange of fire, enemy has been alerted. Request urgent enemy update and route guidance. Repeat, top priority! Top!"
"Understood! Attempting to establish link... Interference is still very strong, the signal is extrely weak, like it's being covered by sothing! Can't guarantee the ssage will send successfully and receive a reply!"
"Signal" Lebedev's voice ca from the radio, filled with obvious frustration and helplessness, against a backdrop of crackling electrical noise.
"Has the satellite link reacquired the image?"
"Not yet, the window, the next link is at least three hours later."
"Suka!"
Petrovsky cursed again.
"Keep trying! Don't stop!"
Song Heping watched coldly.
This is what special operations are like.
Watching Special Soldiers descend like divine troops, in reality, they're quite vulnerable.
In real combat, the slightest accident and detail could lead to the failure of the entire plan.
How to handle it depends on the Commander's ability to adapt on the spot.
And Petrovsky also knew that they'd need to rely more on themselves now.
Suddenly, he turned and looked at Song Heping beside him.
He had read Song Heping's background information before.
This guy...
Seed to have never failed in past operations.
"Song, what's your assessnt of the current situation? How much room do we have to maneuver?"
Song Heping had already analyzed that electronic map back and forth countless tis in his mind.
He didn't take the opportunity to mock these SSO mbers.
This wasn't the ti for internal disputes or even teasing.
He pointed his finger at the section on the screen marked in deep red, speaking in a tone so calm it was almost cruel: "Those few gunshots, especially the one alarm signal likely already sent, have definitely attracted attention. The closest rapid response, possibly from a small town about thirty kiloters northwest, based on previous intel I saw, has a 1515 Ard presence, equipped with armored cars and mortars; or approximately forty kiloters southeast at another known outpost, although poorly equipped, the personnel are aggressive and familiar with mountain warfare. If that surveillance team we encountered earlier belonged to them, I estimate they'll arrive at the scene of the engagent in less than half an hour, and then..."
He spread his hands, whispering: "We'll be spotted by Mad Dog."
Petrovsky was silent; his gaze lingered on the map, trying to find a new safe infiltration route.
Song Heping continued: "Actually, it's not just 1515 Ard who will make things difficult for us, the most crucial is the US Army."
"The US Army?" Petrovsky was taken aback.
"Correct, Latamira is a Kurdish Control Zone. According to the intel provided by my company's intelligence departnt, due to the significant developnt trend of 1515 Ard in the Middle East recently, the Aricans seem to have dispatched so military advisors or even groups like 'Delta' or 'Green Beret' to the Kurdish Control Zone in Siria. I suspect those strong electronic interferences are actually their doing, as maintaining strong interference here benefits them in obstructing 1515 military operations."
"You an, they'll intercept the radio signal just sent by that 1515 surveillance team?" Petrovsky seed to catch on.
Song Heping said: "What do you think?"
Petrovsky fell silent again.
Song Heping continued: "Once they find out Russians are here, it'll be like stirring up a hornet's nest; they'll undoubtedly be on high alert, highly likely to increase patrols and search efforts, close all major routes, and imdiately deploy technical reconnaissance thods like 'Grey Eagle' or 'Predator' drones, or 'Black Hawk' helicopters carrying Special Forces, conducting fan-shaped searches and interceptions in our direction."
Petrovsky frowned, staring at the electronic map, took out a stylus, and slowly drew over it, finally leaving a more tortuous path almost completely along the contour lines, deliberately avoiding all known roads, villages, and even seasonal pastures, on the map.
"Our originally planned route A and backup infiltration route B are no longer safe. They're either too close to the Kurdish Control Zone or require passing through relatively flat areas easily monitored by drones. I think... we should imdiately and thoroughly abandon the original plan and switch to this Route C. Look, it mainly travels along this ancient geological fault zone and the edge of a nearly uninhabited barren mountain area."
Song Heping glanced at the route, saying coldly: "I must remind you, this Route C ans extrely complex terrain, full of rubble, steep slopes, and dry ravines, posing a huge challenge to vehicle suspension, tires, and engine, with the risk of tire blowouts or chanical failure skyrocketing; navigation difficulty increases geotrically, GPS signals will worsen in the canyon, we may need to stop frequently, relying on compass and map for adjustnts."
"Most importantly, the journey increases by at least eighty kiloters, aning more fuel consumption, longer exposure, and possibly encountering unforeseeable natural obstacles in the complex terrain, like landslides or impassable cliffs, leaving us trapped. If we encounter the enemy, it would be disastrous..."
Petrovsky gazed intensely at the screen, the C route twisted like a writhing dying worm, his eyebrows furrowed into deep grooves.
He obviously knew what this entailed.
This was almost gambling with the entire squad and mission at stake.
Betting that the vehicle could hold up, that the fuel would last to the end, that as they slowed down, the enemy's search net wouldn't close in.
The cabin fell silent, only the roar of the engine and the sound of tires crunching over rubble could be heard.
Everyone was focused on Petrovsky, waiting for his decision.
Would they continue along the relatively easier but potentially ambushed original route or venture into that unknown, naturally treacherous desolation?
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