Baghdad Green Zone, US Joint Command Center.
Colonel Kote leaned back in the high-backed chair of the command post, his fingers rhythmically tapping the smooth armrest.
In front of him, six screens displayed real-ti views of various angles of the northwest Illiguo battlefield. On the central screen, a convoy made up of over twenty ard pickups and a few armored vehicles was trapped in a wasteland.
"Colonel, latest intelligence."
Intelligence Officer Lieutenant Jenkins turned his head, excitent obvious on his face, "Song Heping's forces' radio communication has dropped by 70% in the last fifteen minutes, their UAV activity has completely ceased. Satellite thermal imaging shows that their vehicle cluster is tightening their defensive circle."
Kote's lips curved into a smile as he sipped his coffee from the table.
The rich aroma of Colombian coffee beans filled his mouth, an intoxicating satisfaction similar to what the current situation brought.
"Casualties?"
"According to drone surveillance, they've lost at least sixty ard pickups, and nearly twenty BTR-80 armored personnel carriers are disabled on site. More importantly..."
Jenkins brought up another set of data, "1515 Ard Forces' reinforcents have blocked all roads from Bayji to the Sinjar region. Song Heping is truly trapped now."
"Good! That's great!"
Kote nodded in satisfaction, his gaze shifting to a small window on the bottom right of the screen.
It was the monitoring log of Song Heping's communication channel—
In the past two hours, this channel sent seven ergency aid requests to the US command, with increasing frequency and urgency.
"They still refuse to give up?" Kote asked, his voice carrying undisguised sarcasm.
"Yes, Colonel. Three minutes ago, they sent another encrypted request, claiming if they don't get air support, they'll be wiped out within two hours."
Communications Officer Wilson replied.
Kote snorted, "Tell them, due to extre weather conditions, all air support is temporarily unable to take off. Advise them to hold their ground and await rescue."
Suppressing a few light chuckles could be heard in the command center.
Everyone knew what Kote actually ant by "extre weather conditions"—clear skies, visibility over ten miles, perfect weather for air strikes.
"Song Heping is truly in panic this ti."
Major Miller, the operations officer, approached Kote, handing over a paper report, "We've intercepted their internal communication. Samir called Song Heping on the radio, suggesting a scatter-and-break tactic. Song Heping believes dispersing will lead to 1515 Ard Forces picking them off one by one, so he didn't agree."
Kote glanced at the report, his smile broadening:
"Scatter-and-break? In that kind of terrain? They'll be hunted down like rabbits."
He stood up, stepping over to the large tactical map, using a laser pointer to highlight the blue dots surrounded by red markers.
"Who does Song Heping think he is? That with just two elite rcenary camps he can establish his own kingdom in Northwest Illigo? He forgets who rules this territory."
The atmosphere in the command center was relaxed and cheerful.
Since being repeatedly toyed with by Song Heping previously, Kote and his supporters at the Pentagon had been waiting for such an opportunity.
An uncontrollable private military company operating in sensitive areas posed a potential threat to US strategic interests.
Now, using the 1515 Ard Forces to eliminate this problem, while allowing 1515 to be significantly weakened, the setup seed almost too perfect.
"Colonel, drone reconnaissance shows 1515 Ard Forces is mobilizing heavy weapons."
An intelligence analyst suddenly reported, "They've brought in at least twenty 122mm howitzers from Mosul and are establishing artillery positions."
Kote squinted: "Location?"
"About eight kiloters from Song Heping's defensive periter, located in a concealed valley."
"Good." Kote nodded, "Inform the intelligence departnt to closely monitor, but take no action. This is a battle between Song Heping and 1515; we're not intervening."
His undertone was understood by all.
No intervention, until Song Heping and his forces are completely annihilated.
Ti ticked by slowly.
On the command center's large screen, the red markers representing the 1515 Ard Forces surged towards the blue defensive circle like a tide.
In the high-definition images transmitted by drones, rocket and mortar shells could be clearly seen exploding on the Liberation Forces' positions, with black smoke columns rising skyward.
"Their defensive circle is shrinking," Jenkins reported, "The eastern line has been breached, and they're now engaged in so close-quarter combat."
Kote sat back in the command chair, arms crossed on his chest, a cold glint in his eyes.
He recalled the eting with Song Heping two months ago.
He rembered how the Chinese rcenary leader had publicly humiliated him.
Now, this naive idealist was about to pay the price for his arrogance.
Kote could almost picture Song Heping's face at this mont—would that perpetually calm facade finally show expressions of despair for the first ti?
Thinking of this, he couldn't help but break into a broad smile.
"Colonel!"
Jenkins suddenly raised his voice, with a hint of confusion, "Northern surveillance post reports abnormal activity."
Kote frowned, "What situation?"
"Detected massive ground movent towards Kirkuk direction, numbers... very large, extrely vast."
Jenkins stared at the screen, fingers quickly tapping on the keyboard, "The drone is adjusting its flight path for reconnaissance."
"Is it 1515 reinforcents?" Major Miller asked.
"Unlikely."
Jenkins shook his head, "The movent direction is from north to south, not from 1515 controlled Titrick direction. And..."
He paused, his voice becoming serious, "The speed is very fast, incredibly fast, it's a fully chanized force."
Kote suddenly stood up, quickly walked to Jenkins' workstation.
Radar data displayed on the screen in green waves, a large number of movent signals appeared in the northern area, forming a huge arrow, quickly advancing south.
"Estimated scale?" Kote asked.
"At least... over a thousand independent signals, most are vehicles."
Jenkins swallowed hard, "This ans a chanized force, possibly reaching division or brigade level."
The relaxed atmosphere in the command center instantly froze.
A division or brigade-level chanized force?
In Northwest Illinois?
Besides the Illigo Governnt Army, this area doesn't have such a large regular ard force, not even the Kurd people possess such formidable chanized capacity.
"Deploy the drone down, now!"
Kote commanded, his voice revealing tension.
The image on the central screen switched.
Ten minutes later, the drone swooped from high altitude, piercing through the clouds, and the ground scene gradually beca clear.
Initially, just blurry moving spots, but as the lens zood in, everyone gasped.
On a winding highway, a steel torrent was rolling forward.
Leading was a long convoy of modified ard pickups, each vehicle mounted with heavy machine guns or automatic grenade launchers.
Following closely were dozens of wheeled armored vehicles—
Not the US familiar "Striker" or M1117, but Russian-made BTR series and a uniquely shaped six-wheeled armored car, low-profile, turret mounted with a 30mm autocannon.
Even more shocking was the mid-section of the convoy—
At least twenty T-72 main battle tanks, barrels pointing skyward, treads stirring up dust clouds.
Mixed amongst the tanks were 122mm self-propelled howitzers and multiple rocket launch vehicles, the entire convoy stretching for kiloters, like a steel giant python traversing the wasteland of Northern Illigo.
"What is... this?"
Major Miller murmured.
Kote's face turned pale, grabbed the radio transceiver and commanded loudly, "Zoom in! Zoom the images closer, I need to see their details!"
The drone operator adjusted the focus, image locked on the side of an armored vehicle. There were no markings on the vehicle body, no flags, no unit insignia.
The soldiers wore uniform desert camouflage, but the style neither belonged to the US Army nor the Illigo Governnt Army, much less the 1515 Ard's chaotic mixed attire.
"Weapon identification." Kote ordered.
The intelligence analyst worked swiftly: "The leading vehicle's machine guns are primarily DShK and NSV heavy machine guns, so vehicles equipped with 'Konkurs' anti-tank missiles... wait, what's that?"
The image switched to a close-up: next to the turret of an armored vehicle, two soldiers were operating a piece of equipnt, the optical lens on the equipnt reflected cold light under the sunlight.
"Air defense system?" Jenkins speculated, "Looks like 'Sayed' portable air defense missile, Persian standard equipnt."
The word "Persia" exploded in the command center like a bomb.
"Continue!" Kote's voice turned hoarse.
"Tanks are T-72S model, Persian improved version, with added explosive reactive armor and laser rangefinders. Armored vehicles are 'Baofeng' wheeled armored cars, Persian dostic model. Self-propelled artillery suspected to be 'Lightning' 122mm self-propelled howitzers, based on 2S1 modifications..."
"Enough!" Kote interrupted the analysis, slamd his fist on the console, "Calculate their route and destination!"
On the tactical map, a red projected path was marked. The endpoint of that line was the region where fierce battles were ongoing in Northern Bayji—where Song Heping's troops were besieged.
"How long until they reach the combat zone?" Kote asked, voice low.
"At current speed... under an hour." Jenkins replied, "If they advance at full speed, forty minutes."
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