Song Heping stopped speaking.
He knew that anything he said would be superfluous.
They were all adults, entitled to make their own choices.
And once a choice is made, it's best for others not to interfere with the consequences, for it's neither beneficial nor necessary.
He unscrewed the cap of the mineral water bottle and took a hard gulp.
The locally produced mineral water carried the unique earthy taste of the desert and the flavor of the plastic container, sliding down his parched throat.
Utekin whispered, "We weren't wrong about Isriye, rember, if it weren't for us, once 1515's people entered the city, don't ntion fleeing, not a few would've been beheaded. We were saving lives, we were on the right side, weren't we?"
Song Heping looked into Utekin's eyes, which held the vicissitudes of a veteran.
He was silent for a few seconds, finally nodding, "Don't worry, I won't let these terrible things affect my mood."
His voice was deep and weary, avoiding the unanswerable question.
Right or wrong?
On this cursed land, where's the right or wrong anymore?
Those are things long soaked in blood, blurred beyond recognition.
An hour later, the micro-soldier communicator in Song Heping's ear emitted a faint static "zzz", followed by Jiang Feng's deliberately lowered, whisper-like voice:
"Vanguard calling Wolf's Den... Vanguard calling Wolf's Den... reached observation point. Visibility good. Target area... confird."
Song Heping's heart sank sharply, a foreboding instantly gripping him.
In Jiang Feng's voice, under that familiar calmness, there was actually a hint of suppressed tension.
That was definitely not just a reaction to seeing a large number of enemies.
"Wolf's Den received. What's the situation?"
Song Heping responded imdiately, his voice equally low, as if the wind in the valley also held its breath.
On the other end of the communicator was a few seconds of suffocating silence, only faint static noise.
Then, Jiang Feng's voice sounded again, each word like being retrieved from an ice cellar:
"Deir Ezzor... completely surrounded. Iron barrel formation. Preliminary observations... East, South, and North of the city... at least three reinforced battalion-sized defensive rings. A large number of ard pickups, mortar positions... and..."
At this point, Jiang Feng's report stopped.
"And what?!"
Song Heping sensed sothing amiss, imdiately pressing, "Quickly."
"Confird tank presence, T-55, at least three, deployed around the northern main road and the southern old airport periter... their purpose is probably shelling to suppress the airport, preventing air support..."
Song Heping's breath caught slightly.
Tanks!
Damn!
This is beyond the equipnt level of ordinary militants!
Haven't seen in two years, has 1515 beco so well-off?
Have they developed to such an extent?!
Underestimated that Buckdadi who almost got taken down by back in the day.
Looks like 1515's investnt this ti is shockingly big!
and my re dozen people, a few light armored vehicles, charging in would be like striking a stone with an egg.
Even with another battalion of Wake Na rcenaries, breaking into the city would likely co at a horrific cost...
"Have you found an infiltration point?"
Song Heping continued to press on, his voice carrying a trace of urgency he hadn't even realized.
"Hard... very hard."
Jiang Feng's voice carried defeat and heaviness.
"The outer defense is very deep, both obvious and hidden sentries are dense, patrols overlap almost without a dead angle. To the west near the river, the riverbank is also controlled by them, with heavy machine guns installed. The only sowhat weak-looking area... is the edge area near Gelbi Mountain in the west, the terrain is complex there, with many abandoned buildings and collapsed factory zones. However..."
Jiang Feng's voice stopped, the communicator emitted a faint sound of clothing rubbing against rock, as if he adjusted his observation position.
Soon after, he spoke again:
"But... old sergeant, they're... killing people. Right in the open space in front of the abandoned factory in the city's western edge... executing... civilians."
The four words "executing civilians" shot into Song Heping's ears like four cold bullets. All the blood in his body seed to instantly solidify.
Almost at the sa mont, in the background noise on Jiang Feng's side of the communicator, extrely faintly but unmistakably clear, ca a scream of anguish that was horrifically inhuman——
It was a woman's piercing shriek, filled with extre pain and terror, in her last mont of life!
This sound, like a ghostly hook, instantly dredged up the mory Song Heping had just suppressed.
On the streets of Isriye, a mother holding her dead daughter, the heart-wrenching wailing she made, along with the distant yet clear dying scream coming through the communicator now, transcended the distance in space, resounding in his mind.
The sa despair, the sa fragntation, the sa accusation.
Curse all who pick up a gun...
Curse this damned war...
Curse everyone!
An icy chill, mixed with indescribable rage, surged from the soles of Song Heping's feet straight to his head.
He abruptly stood up from behind the rock, the movent so large that it knocked a small stone from beside him, making a "clatter" echo unusually clear in the deathly silent valley.
The surrounding team mbers imdiately looked towards him warily, their eyes filled with inquiry and tension.
"Location! Exact location!"
Song Heping grabbed the high-powered binoculars handed to him by a nearby team mber and hurried to a relatively open large rock at the edge of the valley, holding up the binoculars to his eyes urgently.
The grey-yellow ridgeline of Gelbi Mountain undulated in his view.
In the distance, the outline of Deir Ezzor city appeared twisted and blurry amid the dust and heat waves.
The view through the binoculars pierced with difficulty through the air disturbance and distance, focusing on the abandoned area in the city's west as described by Jiang Feng.
Before a vast, desolate factory ruin was a relatively level open space.
Amazingly, a large number of bonfires appeared on the plain, one after another, piled in the open area.
At the edge of the open area, several battle-scarred, rust-covered ard pickups — marked distinctly as 1515 militants' "technicals".
A group of militants in black or camouflage clothing, with headscarves wrapped, like hyenas around carrion, were violently pushing a dozen people toward the center of the empty ground.
These people were in ragged clothes, with n, won, old folks, and even half-grown children.
They were with their hands tied behind their backs, their faces inscribed with utmost fear and numb despair.
In the center of the ground, several ard militants were forcibly holding down a struggling, crying middle-aged woman, with one person filming using a DV cara.
Her robe was filthy, her hair disheveled, her face streaked with tears and snot, mouth emitting indistinct entreaties and curses.
A burly man with a butcherly face, wielding a machete, was grinning fiercely at the cara, shouting loudly in the direction of the lens, gesturing enthusiastically, seemingly showing off sothing, or perhaps conducting so evil ritual.
"What are they saying?"
Song Heping gritted his question through clenched teeth to Jiang Feng at the other end of the communicator.
Jiang Feng's voice was cold as iron: "That knife-wielding beast... is shouting, 'This is the fate of traitors! This is the fate of infidels! Traitors of Deir Ezzor, watch closely'. Old sergeant, I think they're playing psychological warfare, recording this to put online for the city's garrison to see..."
Song Heping's breathing imdiately beca heavier...
User Comments
0 comments from readers