On the west side of the town, two fully-filled rcenary camps, plus two thousand people assembled from the Abu You Brigade, ford a mixed troop of nearly three thousand people.
After all, Bayji still required a thousand people to stay and guard.
Leading this support troop were several armored personnel carriers modified beyond recognition, welded with various specifications of machine guns and even automatic grenade launchers.
Following were a long string of pickups, with old DShK heavy machine guns and AGS grenade launchers mounted on their truck beds, and even a few recoilless rifles.
As the tires rolled over the soft sand that had been repeatedly tilled by artillery fire, the dust rose like a gigantic earth-colored dragon, stretching for several kiloters behind the convoy.
Song Heping was sitting inside the armored command vehicle located mid-convoy.
In front of him was a reinforced tactical tablet, its screen divided into several sections, the most important of which was displaying real-ti footage transmitted by the high-altitude drone.
In the footage, Kiri Town looked like a cake gnawed incomplete, emitting multiple plus of black smoke.
On the outskirts of the town, dense black spots like ants were crawling, wave after wave rushing toward the few remaining areas still resisting within the town.
The muzzle flas were not conspicuous under the midday sun, but the explosion flashes burst forth occasionally, conveying a sense of despair and intensity through the screen.
Song Heping enlarged the drone-transmitted image of the western battlefield with his fingers.
The 1515 militants apparently considered that area a safe zone, advancing in tight formations, even a few pickups reinforced with steel plates lined up, recklessly pouring fire into the town.
"They didn't expect us to arrive so quickly."
Song Heping sneered, "Well then, catch them off guard."
He activated the full-frequency communication, his voice instantly echoing throughout every corner of the convoy:
"Attention all units, this is Song Heping. Engage in five minutes. Artillery, fixate on the assembly points and fire positions marked by the drone. Assault group, follow , pierce their flanks! Stay alert, let those lunatics taste professionalism!"
The orders were simple and brutal.
As the convoy deployed its formation behind a slightly raised highland, the voice of the drone operator ca through the communication channel:
"Drone has reached the attack position. Enemy situation updated, priority target list dispatched."
"Received."
Song Heping responded, then switched channels, "Artillery cluster, this is Grim Reaper One, authorize fire. Repeat, authorize fire. Blast the crap out of them!"
Initially speaking were not the rifle shots from soldiers' hands, but various artillery pieces from the temporarily constructed artillery positions at the rear.
Guided fire by drone coordinates, this tactic was entirely different from the slapdash approach of the 1515 militants, who relied on numbers to spray a wide area.
In the sky above, several small Desert Camo quadcopters modified at Dongdahuaqiangbei hovered like ghosts a thousand ters high.
Their rotor noise was perfectly masked by the gunfire and cannon sounds from the ground.
This was Song Heping's trump card—the "Shadow" drone squad.
Though not large, each mber of this squad was a maestro in electronic devices and drone operations, nurtured by Song Heping with hefty investnts, serving as his "eyes."
At this mont, beside a vehicle behind the attack troops, a "Shadow" team mber, wearing noise-cancelling headphones, focused fully on the screen in front of him.
On the footage relayed by the high-resolution cara, every moving target on the sand below was visible.
He could even see a Big Beard guy waving an AK, urging his subordinates to advance.
The drone operator's fingers deftly slid on the touchpad, locking the crosshair steadily onto a group behind a dune that had just launched a mortar shell.
"Target B2, confird mortar position, coordinates refreshed, operated by three n, request effectiveness shot!"
His voice was calm, like playing a highly realistic simulation ga.
The artillery command center imdiately responded: "Received, target B2, one round test shot, input paraters... Fire!"
A few seconds later, a 100-mm mortar shell pierced the sky with an ear-piercing whistle, landing about fifty ters away from that dune, kicking up a cloud of smoke and dust.
The operator didn't blink, imdiately correcting, "Test shot impact point confird! Fifty right, ten close. Coordinate correction XXX, YYY. Request full volley!"
"Approved full volley! All units one round, Fire!"
Boom—
Boom—
Boom—
Boom—
Boom—
Boom—
This ti, at least six 100-mm mortars roared simultaneously.
The mortar shells' speed was not fast, and the trajectory was high.
A while later, on the drone footage, the mortar position originally preparing to launch its second shell, along with the three militants beside it, and their pickup truck filled with ammunition, was instantly engulfed by a massive explosion dust cloud.
The explosion sparked a more violent detonation of the ammunition on the pickup.
The artilleryn and the gun went skyward, scattered like a goddess scattering flowers all over…
"Target B2, cleared."
The drone operator recorded emotionlessly, then switched to the next target, "High-value target spotted, suspected command node, next to the white pickup truck, at least five n…"
The sa procedure, the sa precision.
"Target C4, command node, coordinates XXX, YYY, effectiveness shot!"
"Approved! One round test shot!"
"Hit! Corner of building collapsed! Target not fully neutralized, request blanket fire!"
"All units, three rounds rapid fire, Fire!"
Boom boom boom!
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