At dusk, the torrential rain ceased, a blazing red sun hung in the west sky, casting endless rays of light. The surrounding clouds were dyed colorful, exceptionally beautiful, yet the outskirts of the military base of Sam Country, enveloped by the boundless forest, lay in ruins, utterly transford, with several huge craters, shocking in appearance, indicating that it had been severely attacked.
Nurous barracks were bombed to the point of devastation, surviving walls riddled with bullet holes, countless wounded waiting for treatnt, countless bodies laid out in the open, neatly arranged. Infinite sorrow and indignation pervaded the air, mixed with a strong sll of blood, drifting into the distance.
"Ah—" a wounded soldier, unable to bear the military doctor's treatnt, let out a hysterical scream, the sound seemingly infecting all the wounded nearby, who turned their heads in rage, muttering curses, as a broken wall suddenly collapsed with a rumbling sound.
"The enemy is coming—" Suddenly, soone shouted in horror, running wildly into the distance, frantically waving their arms, repeating the sa shout, resembling utter madness.
Soone rushed to tackle the person down, but they had great strength and directly overturned the attacker, bolting outside like a startled bird, shouting loudly: "Run, the enemy is coming—"
At this mont, a team rushed in from outside the base, the leader's face cold and eyes chillingly sharp as he looked at the person running away. He dashed forward and kicked the person flying far away, falling heavily to the ground, motionless. This person coldly shouted: "Why panic, everyone calm down for ."
The newcor was Jackson. Jackson looked at the shattered base, feeling bitter inside, but his face forced a calm deanor, his cold gaze sweeping around, angrily roaring: "Everyone, listen to my orders, imdiately rescue the wounded, repair the base. Anyone who dares slack off will be executed."
The troops shell-shocked by the bombing saw Jackson arrive, as if suddenly finding a backbone, they rose one by one, taking action, helping comrades treat injuries, repairing bombed camps, all busying themselves. Jackson then rushed towards the command center, seeing from afar the large tent of the command center had been blasted apart, its tables, sand tables, and communication equipnt all blown to pieces, rendered useless.
"Bastards." Jackson cursed coldly inside, suddenly feeling sothing unusual underfoot, quickly looked down to find himself stepping on a pile of innards, and next to it a blown-apart corpse, causing him to jump back in shock, his surrounding expression cold enough to drip water, angrily shouted: "Quick, clean up the base imdiately."
"Commander, you finally arrived." A communications officer ran up with a pale face, saluted, and said: "The President is waiting for your video call."
"I know, what's the damage?" Jackson had anticipated the President's inquiry about this matter, was ntally prepared, and asked.
"The damage is severe, not fully tallied yet. Alongside last night's raid, preliminary counts show over eight hundred dead, over a thousand injured, all missiles destroyed. All weapons, ammo, dical equipnt, and food obliterated. We need a large supply of logistics materials, especially dicine and food, otherwise, we'll have to retreat." The communications officer quickly replied.
"Hmm, God will punish those bastards. What's the situation with the frontline troops?" Jackson coldly remarked.
"The three units are now resting in the valley, waiting for orders. After you led the pursuit against the enemy raid troops, the three units started building fortifications on-site per your order, working diligently. But the troops face a strange phenonon, with all arrow-inflicted wounds that won't heal, along with fever symptoms. Initially suspected viral infection, specific virus unknown, fever dicine doesn't work. After discussion, frontline dics applied for a quick solution; if the sickness spreads, it will affect other units." The communications officer quickly reported.
"What? Virus?" Jackson's face changed, this news was as bad as the base being bombed, it made Jackson completely lose his composure, worrying deeply. The unhealing wound was sothing Jackson had faced before, knowing it was caused by the enemy weapon coated with Poison Liquid, but this ti there's a virus, and it's infectious. This is a fatal blow to the troops, may have to withdraw.
Thinking of this, Jackson's expression grew cold, saying: "Isolate all the wounded. Ensure the virus doesn't spread; I will request dostic experts to co. The valley fortifications must be completed swiftly, with air defense capabilities. The enemy seized ard helicopters; they may use them to attack us."
"Yes." The communications officer quickly agreed, seeing Jackson had nothing else to say, turned to start deploying.
Jackson felt unspeakable bitterness in his heart, clearly recognizing this defeat was overwhelmingly severe, beyond what he could bear. Base destroyed, advanced officers captured, frontline troops infected, each matter significant, he must take proactive responsibility, relieve the President's burden. Thinking of this, Jackson surveyed the surrounding base, sorrowful, heading towards the staff departnt.
No one was in the staff departnt, everyone busy. On a table lay a laptop, opened. Jackson walked over with a sorrowful expression, pulled up a field chair, sat down, facing the computer, composed himself, expertly opened software.
Soon, several people appeared on the screen, quickly making way for the President. The President's face was ugly, glaring at Jackson without speaking. Jackson knew his mistakes, undoubtedly wouldn't get through this; such a major incident necessitates bearing responsibility, himself the best choice, surviving may be unlikely.
Reflecting on his negligence, recalling the President's favor, Jackson furrowed his brows, solemnly said: "Respected Mr. President, this failure was due to my mismanagent, unrelated to others. I'm willing to take all responsibility, please punish ."
"Co back, a helicopter will pick you up in two hours. Before that, clean the base up." The President coldly commanded, showing no emotion, finished speaking, rose, left without a glance at Jackson, walked away, and the computer screen turned off.
Jackson watching this scene, his face turned ashen, weakened, slumped on the field chair, eyes hollow and feeble, inwardly clear that awaiting him was a military court upon return, less than one in ten survival chance, gazed into empty space, muttering: "Dad, I fear I can't avenge you, Ghost, having you as an opponent is my lifelong misfortune, you won, won gloriously, I lost, lost completely, I hate it so much—! Why? Why is this happening?"
Note: It's the end of the month, the last day of the Gold Keyboard Award Battle, the situation is dire, hope everyone can find ti to log into Creation Chinese Network, search for Old Wolf's books, enter the Gold Keyboard event page, and vote for Old Wolf. Rember, it's the work votes, Old Wolf is being overshadowed, urgently needs your support.
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