Mercenaries, I Will Be King Chapter 1612 - 1293: Clarity from the Sidelines (Part 2)

Jiang Feng nodded, "Do you think 1515 can win? I an, completely repel Kote's attack."

Song Heping was silent for a few seconds.

The screen switched to the simulated situation map at the "Outpost" command center—restored through electronic reconnaissance and signal analysis. Although not precise, it gave a general idea.

The blue icons were squeezed by the red, and the front line was in an unstable zigzag pattern.

"At the first stage, 1515 has a slight advantage."

Song Heping said, "They have dragged the battle into close-range combat they excel in. Moreover, they have superior numbers, and the morale... judging by the suicidal charges of those 'Flying Cavalry', is terrifyingly high."

"But Kote still has his cards."

Jiang Feng said, "Thunder Defense's rcenaries have not yet fully engaged in battle, and although the air power is currently restricted, as long as the battle line can be slightly opened up, the F-16s and Apaches can still deliver devastating blows. And although the Kurds are confused now, with 6,000 people relying on the Arican air support, they could still launch a counterattack..."

"So the key is what happens next."

Song Heping continued the conversation, "If 1515 can continuously exert pressure and force the Kurdish defense line to completely collapse, Kote will have no choice but to retreat, otherwise, those two thousand n from Thunder Defense would also have to be thrown in. However, if Kote can stabilize the front line, even if temporarily retreating to reorganize, wait for air power to be regrouped, and use sustained bombing to gradually wear down 1515's forces..."

He didn't finish, but the aning was clear.

Jiang Feng suddenly asked a question, "Then... what should we do next?"

The command room was quiet for a few seconds.

Song Heping picked up his teacup, watching the tea leaves suspended in the water slowly sink.

"Strategically speaking, of course, it's more beneficial for us if 1515 wins."

His tone was as calm as water.

"But if 1515 wins too easily, preserves too much strength, it could beco a problem for us in the future."

Jiang Feng reminded him.

"So," Song Heping placed down his teacup, a cold smile on his lips, "everything must be controlled at a balance, not too much or too little, just right."

He turned to Jiang Feng, "Send an encrypted ssage to Samir in Mosul. Tell him to 'relax appropriately' the monitoring of the southeastern corridor of Titrick. If... if in the next few days, 1515 shows signs of defeat and needs more reinforcents, let them 'naturally infiltrate' so in."

Jiang Feng raised an eyebrow, "Continue to let water flow?"

"It's not letting water flow." Song Heping corrected, "It's maintaining the battlefield balance. Kote needs a 'tough but eventually victorious' battle to prove himself, and 1515 needs a 'valiant resistance but eventual strategic retreat' battle to preserve strength and morale. As for us..."

He pointed to the city engulfed in flas on the screen.

"...we need them to continue fighting and exhausting each other, but not to the point of quickly reaching a conclusion, just as Kote once viewed us before."

Jiang Feng understood.

He took out the encrypted satellite phone and began to edit the ssage.

As his fingers tapped on the keyboard, he suddenly chuckled, "If Kote knew we're leisurely 'adjusting' his battlefield here, he'd probably be infuriated."

"He should be grateful." Song Heping sneered, "At least for now, we're just observers, not participants."

In the center of the screen, the smoke over Titrick grew thicker.

A new pillar of fire rose from sowhere in the city, ignited by one side or the other.

The war continued.

And in this command room far from the battlefield, two East University n sipped tea, like chess players maneuvering a board hundred of miles away.

Calm to the point of indifference.

At the sa ti, the "Outpost" command center.

Colonel Kote stood in front of the communication desk, attempting for the third ti to contact the Joint Command Headquarters for ergency intelligence support and aerial coordination.

The duty officer on the other end of the line spoke with polite but empty phrases, repeating lines like "Your request has been recorded and will be reported as soon as possible."

He knew this ant that no substantive reinforcents or tactical guidance would be available for at least several hours.

He put down the receiver and returned to the main screen.

Significant changes had occurred on the situation map—the blue icons representing the Kurdish forces showed a noticeable depression in the southwest corner of the brick factory area.

A company-level unit had reported over half casualties and was being forced to withdraw and reorganize.

"Sir, the 'Alpha' company reports having reached 'Hunter' Heights and is establishing a defensive position."

Major Jas approached and reported, "'Bravo' company is expected to arrive in fifteen minutes."

Kote nodded, silent. His eyes were fixed on the constantly scrolling casualty figures in one corner of the screen.

Kurd Ard: Killed/Missing 187, Wounded in Action 341.

Thunder Defense: Killed 9, Wounded in Action 22.

Confird destruction of enemy vehicles: 47 (including 39 pickups, 8 trucks).

Confird enemy casualties: approximately 330-480 (estimated).

The exchange ratio seed not bad, even quite good.

But Kote knew, behind these numbers lay a more severe reality: Kurdish forces' morale was declining, their organization disrupted, and command efficiency reduced.

While the enemy...

Seed to care nothing about casualties.

He recalled the sight seen in drone footage—those standing shirtless in the pickup trucks, firing crazily, those drivers who, knowing there were bullets and rain ahead, still pressed the accelerator to the floor.

"Sir, new report from the Ozham direction."

The intelligence analyst turned around, "General Sai Fu of the Ninth Armored Division has just ordered his artillery units to conduct a round of 'enhanced' artillery preparation on the 1515 positions on Ozham's outskirts. But… the ground forces have not launched a large-scale assault."

Kote sneered.

"Enhanced artillery preparation"? Just a show. Sai Fu is using minimal action to satisfy his 'request' while avoiding truly plunging his troops into a tough fight.

Bureaucrats.

Politicians.

Cowards.

In his mind, he tagged the Iliko Governnt Army general with these three labels.

"Forget him."

Kote waved dismissively, as if to shoo away an annoying fly, "We rely on ourselves."

He walked to the tactical map, picked up an electronic touch pen, and began drawing new defense lines and fire support points around the brick factory area.

"Order 'Alpha' company to deploy at least two M2 heavy machine guns and a 'Javelin' anti-tank missile system on 'Hunter' Heights, with firing zones covering the open terrain on the southwest side of the brick factory. 'Bravo' company's sniper team should advance to this position—"

He marked a spot on the map, "Establish a hidden observation post, focusing on monitoring possible enemy personnel and vehicle gathering areas."

"As for the Kurdish forces, instruct them to consolidate their strength as much as possible, abandon untenable protruding positions, and contract the defense line. Focus on holding these transportation nodes and high points."

"Artillery..."

He paused, "Move the M777 position forward three kiloters, but be prepared to relocate at any ti. I suspect 1515's mobile artillery will continue to harass us. Once our artillery positions are exposed, they are likely to counter-attack."

Orders were issued smoothly one by one.

The officers in the command center busied themselves again, the sound of keyboards being tapped, conversations, and the rustling of map papers forming a tense rhythm once more.

After issuing the commands, Kote got out of the vehicle and looked at the distant sky.

Although it was already late afternoon approaching dusk, the sky outside remained bright, while the skies in the direction of Titrick had already turned a grimy yellow with murky smoke.

Suddenly, he rembered words spoken many years ago in a West Point Military Academy classroom by an old professor:

"Gentlen, always rember: in war, the most dangerous thing is not the might of your enemy but your own arrogance. Arrogance makes you underestimate your opponent, overestimate yourself, and then... step right into the trap you've dug for yourself."

At the ti, he sat there, indifferent.

He believed in technology, in training, in the Arican military might that could crush any disobedient adversary.

Now, standing in a mobile command vehicle in the Iraqi desert, watching his ticulously planned offensive bog down, he suddenly understood the aning of those words.

Arrogance.

It is lethal!

His arrogance towards the 1515 Ard, his arrogance about the accuracy of intelligence, his arrogance in his tactical design.

These arrogances had now turned into the bloodshed borne by front-line soldiers.

Kote closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

The first phase of the "Balance Beam" plan had failed.

But the war was not over.

He needed to correct mistakes, adjust tactics, and stabilize the front line.

Then, find the flaw of that opponent hidden beneath Titrick—Ahd.

This battle was far from over.