Brigadier General Yue Ke rose early today, which for him, insomnia had beco the norm over the past few months.
However, his mood was exceptionally cheerful today, as if even the morning sunlight seed especially radiant.
In the predicant where Mosul had long resisted capture, rumors from the Pentagon about his potential dismissal piled on the pressure for Yue Ke.
Despite the fact that changing generals before battle is a major taboo in military strategy, rumors don't arise from nothing. Especially in recent days, the tornt of insomnia worsened, filling him with worries about the future.
But today, everything seed to be taking a turn for the better. Last night, he received an exhilarating piece of news—the "Hunter" group's den had been thoroughly destroyed. What delighted him even more was that the advance guidance team had sent back reconnaissance photos, showing a large number of ard personnel gathering at the blast site.
Consequently, two F-15 jets returned to the scene, dropping four MK82 general-purpose bombs on the location, wiping out the militants gathered there for relief in one fell swoop.
According to the two-man team of Song Heping and Mist, the last bombing was estimated to have killed more than a hundred people.
Due to the massive power of the explosion, the scene was a ss, and no one dared to approach and clear it.
This news brought imnse solace to Brigadier General Yue Ke, as if he saw the dawn of victory.
He picked up a hot towel to soften his stubble, then applied shaving cream and began to shave ticulously.
Listening to the hissing sound of the blade cutting through the stubble, he felt a sense of satisfaction. The several days' worth of beard quickly vanished under his skilled efforts, and Yue Ke washed his face clean with hot water from the towel, looking into the mirror at the crisp, clean face, a satisfied smile appeared.
"SIR!"
The operations staff officer appeared at the door of the washroom, stood at attention and reported, "All units have reached the departure positions, ready to launch the attack at any ti!"
Yue Ke glanced at his watch, and the hour hand was just short of the 7 o'clock mark.
He took a deep breath, as if to suck in all the nervousness and pressure into his lungs before exhaling them out.
"Very good," he said, facing the mirror, solemnly buckling on his Kevlar helt and adjusting its position until it sat steadily upon his head.
At half-past seven, the residents on the outskirts of Mosul City heard the rumbling sounds of tanks and the engines of armored vehicles. They had beco accustod, even numb, to these noises.
Yet the presence of coalition forces outside the city so early today still surprised and panicked them.
Many turned and fled for their lives, fearing being dragged into the brutal conflict.
Inside the command vehicle of the coalition forces, Brigadier General Yue Ke stared closely at the watch on his wrist.
When the second hand hit the 12 o'clock position, he grabbed the radio walkie-talkie without hesitation and, in what he considered the most manly voice, gave the order, "All attack units, begin the operation!"
At the command, the tanks roared towards the enemy, and the armored vehicles bellowed their way onto the battlefield. A vast armored tide slowly marched towards the city, like an unstoppable force set to thoroughly annihilate the enemy.
Abu had been waiting at his sniping point for a full nine hours.
For a sniper, such a wait was not long.
By now the sun had risen high; under the scorching sun, he was sweltering inside his homade ghillie suit.
His chosen sniping point was beneath a wooden shed on a rooftop—perhaps the hoowner had intended to plant sothing, but in the end, nothing was planted.
Because that family was dead.
Abu had an excellent line of sight, with few obstructions in front of him.
In the buildings around him were ambushed the last three snipers of the "Hunter" group.
Today, they would present the US Army's clearing forces with a big surprise from this spot.
Abu focused on an intersection. This crossroad was a necessary route to enter the city center and also to Rashim Street.
He chose this place to ambush because he guessed that the enemy's senior officers would certainly visit the bombardnt site to showcase their victories and accomplishnts.
He gently caressed the body of his sniper rifle with his finger, feeling its cold touch. This SVD sniper rifle had been modified to be more powerful and have a longer range.
He believed that as long as the enemy's high-ranking officer appeared, he would have the capability to strike him dead in one shot.
He waited quietly, his eyes tightly focused on the intersection ahead. He knew that the resistance in the city today wouldn't be as fierce as usual, because so had already withdrawn.
This was part of a retreat plan that had been set early, preserving the strength for a counterattack.
Abu was acutely aware of the situation he would face today. The hunter organization was destroyed, and there were hardly any snipers left in town. To rely on ground militants ard with light weapons and RPGs to withstand the coalition's chanized armored troops was not just a mantis trying to stop a chariot, it was a mantis trying to stop a plane, utterly outmatched.
He took a deep breath and adjusted his breathing. The distance from here to the intersection was one thousand six hundred ters.
At this distance, the modified SVD sniper rifle in his hands could achieve its maximum effective range. With 95% confidence, he could hit the enemy's neck at this distance.
The neck was a location rich in blood vessels, including arteries, as well as being where the spine was situated. Hitting this area would either kill or leave the target severely disabled.
He waited quietly for the target to appear, filled with anticipation.
While Abu lay under the wooden shed on the rooftop waiting for his prey, Song Heping and Mist remained hidden in a building near Rashim Street.
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