The evacuation order is like a stone thrown into a calm lake.
As dawn breaks the following day, Hulmatu's militia unit is enveloped in a strange atmosphere—
No longer the joy and relaxation after conquering the town, but a mix of confusion, discontent, and loss.
The camp was bustling with voices, but unlike the tense order of pre-war preparations, it was now more chaotic and resentful.
Inside what was originally a half-collapsed courtyard wall serving as a temporary ammo depot, a group of militian were silently, or rather moodily, packing their gear.
The clatter of firearms was louder than usual, and the sound of boots crunching over gravel seed especially heavy.
An old soldier with a scar on his face cursed under his breath as he aggressively dismantled the tripod of a DShK heavy machine gun, his actions rough as if venting anger at soone.
"Barely warm from taking it, and now we gotta give it up? Several of my brothers died here for nothing!"
He muttered, his voice not loud but still clear amidst the noisy environnt.
A young militiaman stacking ammo boxes on a worn-out pickup truck chid in:
"Exactly! I heard it's that bunch of Arican lackeys, Thunder Defense, taking over. We shed blood, they reap the rewards!"
"Who knows what the higher-ups are thinking?"
Another militiaman squatting on the ground, chanically wiping the launch tube of an RPG-7 with a greasy rag, looked up, his face full of confusion.
"Is it because the Aricans are putting too much pressure on us? Boss Song couldn't hold out?"
"Nonsense!"
The scarred veteran suddenly tossed the tripod into the truck, making a loud clunk, "Boss Song scared of trouble? I think there's more going on here! It's just... it's just stifling in here!"
The whispers spread low across the camp, like an uneasy undercurrent.
Despite the basic trust and respect for Samir and Song Heping, relinquishing the territory gained with blood and life was still hard for these militian to understand.
They silently obeyed orders, but the confusion in their eyes and occasional venting through forceful actions exposed their true inner thoughts.
In the slightly more orderly area next to the command post, two rcenary camps directly affiliated with "Musician" were also preparing to evacuate.
Their actions were equally swift but seed more silent, more professional, carrying a sense of occupational indifference.
They checked weapons, counted equipnt, and loaded essential supplies onto reinforced off-road vehicles and trucks.
Unlike the militian's overt emotions, they buried their thoughts deep, occasionally exchanging a glance, everything unspoken.
They trusted Song Heping's judgnt, but this unconventional decision also left a question mark in their hearts.
Outside the command post, Song Heping stood with his hands in his pockets, expressionless as he watched the busy yet slightly chaotic scene before him.
His gaze swept across familiar faces, finally settling on Ferrari and the White Bear couple walking out of the command post.
He needed to bid farewell to these comrades heading to another battlefield.
"All set?"
Song Heping stepped forward to greet them.
Ferrari nodded: "Ready to depart anyti. The contact in Baghdad has reconfird; the US Army's C-130 transport plane will take off on schedule this afternoon."
"Okay."
Song Heping responded, his gaze shifting to White Bear and the Queen: "Take care of yourselves. Afghan is... mountainous, remote, and complicated, not lighter than here."
White Bear grinned widely, an indifferent expression: "Boss, don't worry! No bullet has been made yet in that mountainous area that can take down, White Bear!"
The Queen still did not speak, just nodded gently at Song Heping as a farewell.
The group began to walk towards the helicopter helipad.
On the way, Song Heping advised:
"Ferrari, be careful when you reach Afghan. It's also a tangled and complex situation there. Always keep an eye out, safety first. If... I an if you run into trouble you can't handle on your own, don't push it, survival is the most important. Contact anyti."
As he spoke, he pulled out a folded piece of paper from a hidden pocket in his tactical vest, written with encrypted contact frequencies and simple identification codes, and handed it to Ferrari.
"The Persians have intelligence networks over there; maybe they can be useful at a critical ti, provide so intel or cover. Keep it for ergencies."
Ferrari solemnly accepted the seemingly ordinary yet potentially life-saving piece of paper, carefully sliding it into his inner pocket, pressing it firmly:
"Understood, don't worry! Your battle for Bayji here is also unlikely to be an easy fight."
"War is never easy."
Song Heping's tone remained calm as if discussing the most ordinary of matters. His gaze once again cast toward the near helipad.
There, a Mi-8 helicopter had already started its engines, its massive rotors gradually spinning faster, making increasingly loud roaring noises, kicking up clouds of dust, announcing the arrival of the farewell mont.
Arriving beside the helicopter, the powerful downdraft nearly prevented him from opening his eyes, pressing clothes tightly against the body, conversations had to be shouted.
Song Heping firmly shook hands with the White Bear couple, finally giving Ferrari a heavy pat on the shoulder: "Take care!"
"You take care too, Boss! Wait for our good news!"
White Bear shouted loudly, lunging forward decisively, braving the practically person-toppling powerful airflow into the noisy cabin.
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