"Enemy at three o'clock and nine o'clock! Machine gunner! Suppress the PKM on top of the sand dune at three o'clock! Everyone else, focus your fire on the riflen behind the rocks at nine o'clock! Cross cover! Don't panic!"
Mans, having served ten years in the US Special Forces, found himself in an unusually cold and lucid state amidst extre shock and adrenaline rush.
Quickly, he judged the approximate position of the enemy from the muzzle flashes, shouting orders at the top of his lungs to try to steady the situation.
The two people in the lead vehicle were all killed at this ti. The four surviving Thunder Defense rcenaries demonstrated their high military training and combat response as forr Special Forces mbers.
Despite the sudden ambush which filled them with shock and anger, they didn't run around like headless chickens.
The mont gunfire erupted, they instinctively and through training dove for the nearest covers—the relatively sturdy hood of the pickup and behind the rear wheels, and several larger rocks by the roadside.
Two team mbers swiftly grabbed the M249 squad automatic weapons from the vehicle, delivering fierce suppressive fire towards the PKM machine gun position at the top of the sand dune at three o'clock.
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat—
Rat-a-tat-tat—
The distinctive sound of the M249 echoed, the long ammunition belt rapidly glead shorter, as the yellow shells clinked and rattled to form a small pile beside the vehicle.
The dense 5.56mm bullets struck the sand dune, kicking up a series of sand pillars, temporarily suppressing the ferocious fire of the 1515 Ard.
anwhile, Mans and another team mber, using the cover of rocks and shallow ditches, fired with extre precision and speed with their M4A1 carbines, tenaciously targeting the riflen of 1515 constantly appearing between the rocks at nine o'clock.
Their shots were exceptionally cunning, often seizing the mont when the enemy peeked out to return fire, forcing them back into cover.
Their reactions were undeniably swift, tactical maneuvers standard, and shooting accuracy high.
However, the 1515 Ard had the absolute geographical advantage, perfect elent of surprise, and most importantly, an intimate understanding of this terrain ingrained in their bones.
1515's ambushers were clearly experienced veterans, extrely sly and patient.
They utilized the complex terrain and cover of night, moving like rats between rocks and sand dunes, shooting a few rounds before imdiately changing shooting positions, never exposing themselves in the sa spot for more than ten seconds.
They were familiar with every hidden nook and every trench for quick maneuvering, moving silently, making it difficult for Mans and his n to pinpoint their exact location.
Moreover, their firepower deploynt was orderly: the PKM machine gun provided continuous suppression and distraction while scattered riflen conducted precise short bursts from different angles, leaving the rcenaries overwheld and unable to organize an effective breakout.
"Ugh!"
A team mber operating the M249 for suppressive fire suddenly let out a dull groan, as an AK bullet, shot from an unknown tricky angle, hit his left upper arm unprotected by a ballistic plate, blood spurting instantly and staining most of his sleeve red.
"FUCK! Go to hell!"
Clenching his teeth, he cursed while holding the trigger tightly without letting go, continuing to pour bullets in the general direction, though the suppression effect was clearly weakened.
"Smoke bomb! Quick! Throw a smoke bomb! We need cover to retreat from this open area!"
While rapidly changing an empty magazine, Mans shouted at the team mber beside him.
He clearly understood that if they continued to be trapped on this exposed road, facing enemies who were familiar with the terrain and holding the high ground, their only outco was to be slowly worn down to death.
Upon hearing this, a team mber near Mans swiftly plucked an M18 smoke bomb from his tactical vest, pulled the safety pin, and forcefully threw it ahead of the convoy.
"Hiss—"
Thick white smoke quickly spewed from the canister, beginning to spread under the night wind, attempting to form a visual barrier between the rcenaries and the ambushers.
However, just as the smoke was starting to obscure the view, and Mans and others were preparing to retreat to the deep riverbed to the side and rear under the cover of smoke, the situation changed abruptly—
"RPG!!!"
A team mber on the other side shouted a heart-wrenching warning!
They saw an RPG rocket, trailing an orange-red fiery tail, suddenly shoot out from behind a giant rock at nine o'clock, with extre precision, heading straight for the vulnerable hood of the second pickup truck!
"Boom!!!"
The explosion blasted!
The coarse black explosive loaded in the rocket warhead detonated violently, instantly blowing the pickup's engine compartnt to pieces, with parts and debris scattering like flowers in the sky!
Fierce flas imdiately rose from the wreckage, the scorching fire engulfing the entire vehicle, illuminating a range of several dozens of ters as if it were dayti, completely destroying their last hope of a quick vehicle retreat!
The flying scorching tal fragnts swept through the surrounding area; a rcenary hiding near the rear of the vehicle was caught off guard, hit by several fragnts in the chest, abdon, and legs, letting out a harsh scream, convulsing violently in a pool of blood.
And the communications operator who attempted to call for ergency support from the checkpoint using the tactical radio, amidst the chaotic explosion, had just shouted "We're under attack…" when a precise AK bullet, as if with eyes, pierced through the gaps of smoke and flas, penetrating the unarmored side of his neck.
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