"It seems they're just a bunch of idiots with no fighting capability..."
Song Heping realized.
The combat effectiveness of this ard organization wasn't high.
Even less than that of the Free Army.
The Salafi ard group, according to intelligence, was a small ard organization ford by so forr mbers of Sadam's Suicide Squad with particularly extre views in this area.
It seed Ferrari's intelligence was accurate.
It was indeed a small organization.
Apart from a few original mbers of the Suicide Squad, the rest were all combat trash, not worthy of ntion.
da-da-da-da-da—
da-da-da-da—
The PKM machine gun mounted on the truck began to sing joyfully.
A machine gun wasn't the sa as an assault rifle.
The PKM used an ammo box, plenty of bullets, fired in a spray like water.
Song Heping saw bullets falling like raindrops around those fleeing militants, occasionally a few hit the body, mostly missed.
The hit rate was average, but you couldn't resist the abundance of bullets!
Two PKM machine guns mounted on the truck fired together, and those dozens of militants were cut down like leeks, with no chance of reaching their own vehicles.
"Sigh..."
Song Heping sighed.
This kind of fighting was aningless.
There was no skill involved.
He drew back into the vehicle and said to Samir, "Go around to a hundred ters ahead of them, we'll intercept them directly from the front."
"Squad leader of Three, flank them from the side; we'll block them from the front. Don't shoot them all; by the way, if there are any survivors, leave one or two, I have use for them!"
"No problem, Boss!"
The voice of the squad leader of Three sounded like he was on the verge of a blood frenzy.
He was one of the machine gunners.
He was currently killing with great gusto.
"I'll try my best!"
He added the sentence just in case everyone got killed and the boss ca to him for trouble.
Song Heping said, "Is it so hard to leave one or two alive?! Don't sweep them all with your strafing, just aim at the front batch, they will surrender soon!"
Indeed, everything was exactly as Song Heping had anticipated.
When the off-road vehicle rushed to the front of these fleeing militants, and Song Heping got out with Samir and a few others to spread across and start blocking the enemy's retreat, the opposition quickly collapsed.
Machine guns were strafing from the right, and a few rcenaries were intercepting with assault rifles from the front.
It was simply a hunt.
Finally, an ard man raised his gun with both hands and directly knelt on the ground, yelling loudly at the surroundings.
Song Heping couldn't hear what they were saying.
So he asked Samir, "What are these guys saying?"
"They're surrendering."
"Surrendering?" Song Heping quickly gave orders to the squad leader of Three, "Squad leader of Three, stop shooting, don't shoot anymore; you'll kill them all!"
The sound of the machine gun finally fell silent.
"Samir, you tell them to stand up, put their guns on the ground together, then raise their hands and co over,"
Upon hearing this, Samir imdiately shouted in Illigo at those people, "Put your guns on the ground, gather them up, then walk over here, co to our front to surrender!"
The militants had completely lost the will to fight, hearing that they could surrender, they all raised their guns above their heads, went aside to throw their guns on the ground, and then walked towards Song Heping and his group with their hands raised.
"Stop! Stop right here! Lie down! Put your hands on your head and lie down!"
When they got about twenty ters away, Song Heping had them stop.
Getting any closer wouldn't be wise.
At this distance, any movent from them could be instantly t with gunfire and death.
Once all the militants obediently lay down, Song Heping then ordered the squad leader of Three over the communication channel, "Squad leader of Three, take two n and search them, make sure you search thoroughly, don't let them play any tricks!"
"Yes, Boss!"
The squad leader of Three took two n with him and began to search each person.
There probably weren't many militants left alive.
During the pursuit, Song Heping saw about thirty people; now, only six were left alive.
However, groaning could still be heard in the surroundings.
So who hadn't died yet, those who had been crippled, were howling on the ground.
Taking the opportunity, Song Heping asked White Bear and Disaster Star over the wireless communication channel.
"Calling White Bear, how's it going on your side?"
"Us? Doing great!" White Bear's voice was always boisterous: "Disaster Star and I have cleaned them all out!"
"Fuck..."
Song Heping suddenly rembered that in his haste to order the chase, he had forgotten to tell White Bear and Disaster Star to leave survivors…
Those two when put together...
Where are there any survivors...
It was all due to my own negligence.
After about fifteen minutes, the captives were escorted back into the courtyard.
Song Heping went to check on his own n first.
The explosion resulted in the death of one Illigo rcenary and the injury of another.
The wounded had been temporarily treated to stop the bleeding and was not in life-threatening condition.
"Samir, you drive the bodies and the injured to the Sherbut hospital right now. I will arrange for soone to transport the corpse back to Baghdad tomorrow. I'll take care of his condolence money and insurance..."
He patted Samir on the shoulder, a gesture of comfort.
Because the latter seed sowhat downcast.
Many of these local rcenaries were people he knew, and this was the "Musician" defense's first ti experiencing casualties.
In fact, Song Heping had been ntally prepared for a long ti.
In this line of work, as long as one had been around long enough, casualties were a matter of when, not if, and no one was an exception.
"Hmm, I'll make arrangents."
"Hunter, you take them to check the water supply station again, be ticulous, and watch out for trap mine devices."
"Alright, I'm on it."
Once everything was arranged, Song Heping approached the six captives.
These guys were lined up and kneeling in the middle of the courtyard, hands bound behind their backs.
Song Heping called Samir over to translate.
"Who's the boss among you?"
No one answered.
However, Song Heping noticed that when he asked that question, everyone's gaze unconsciously drifted toward one of the n with a big beard.
It was just a subconscious small movent, but Song Heping was clear in his mind.
He approached Big Beard and asked, "Are you the boss?"
Big Beard shook his head.
Song Heping said, "Then you're worthless."
After saying that, he pulled out his pistol, cocked it to disengage the safety, and pressed the muzzle against the guy's forehead.
Big Beard pissed himself in terror, shouting out loud.
"What's he saying?" Song Heping asked Samir.
Samir said, "He's a platoon leader."
"Oh, so he's an officer."
Song Heping didn't put away the gun but continued to ask, "Which ard organization do you belong to?"
"Salafi."
"Hmm..."
Song Heping thought to himself, as expected, Ferrari's intelligence was reliable.
"I want to know where your people are hiding. If you tell , I will spare your life," he said.
Big Beard was sweating profusely, but still, he didn't speak.
Song Heping didn't bother with further words and simply pulled the trigger.
Bang—
Big Beard's body lurched forward, adopting a prostrate position, and lay there motionless.
Song Heping moved on to the next militant.
This one was already deathly pale; under the glare of the car headlights, he looked like a sheet of paper, his body trembling.
Song Heping signaled to Samir, "Ask him where their headquarters is."
Samir began interrogating the skinny man in the Illigo language.
The skinny man was shaking even more violently, sweat beads on his face running down his cheeks to drip from his chin.
"I don't know... I..."
Samir said, "Do you really want to die?"
The skinny man jolted as if electrocuted, his eyes darting around as though he was weighing his options.
"We had people die tonight on our side. This is our boss; he's very angry," Samir continued. "If you don't want to end up like your platoon leader, you better start talking now."
The skinny man was still hesitating when Song Heping's gun was already pressed against his forehead.
"I'll talk! I'll talk! I'll talk!"
He finally broke down.
"Tell your boss not to shoot! I'll talk!"
"Boss, he's willing to talk," Samir quickly reported.
Song Heping holstered his gun, switched the safety back on, and nodded, "See, isn't that much better? Why be stubborn? Ask him how much he gets paid a month."
Samir asked.
The skinny man answered.
Samir reported, "Two hundred US dollars a month."
Song Heping laughed, "Fuck, two hundred US dollars a month, what are you risking your life for!"
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