Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1121 A Crazy Tactical Plan

The line was connected quickly.

The cook, without bothering with pleasantries, almost shouted out the extremely critical situation, his voice trembling slightly with excitement and anxiety.

"...Yes! That's the situation! Collapse is imminent! We're retreating from the north, east, and south! We lack heavy equipment, we lack air support, we lack everything! The morale of our soldiers has plummeted! I predict that, at most three days, if there are no fundamental changes, Damascus will fall!"

He took a deep breath, trying to make his tone sound calmer and more strategically persuasive: "Once Damascus falls and the current regime collapses, whether it's the so-called Free Army supported by the West or the more extreme 1515 armed group coming to power, can we still hold onto our naval base in Tartus? Our only foothold in the Mediterranean, all our investments and strategic planning over the years, will be completely wiped out! I implore you to once again advise the Kremlin that we must immediately, without delay, launch a direct military intervention! Even sending just a few squadrons of fighter jets would stabilize the situation!"

After a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, a calm, almost icy voice came through, with the slow, bureaucratic tone typical of bureaucrats: "Yevgeny, I understand the pressure you're under at the front, and I appreciate your... uh... vivid description of the battlefield. However, the opinion of the highest decision-making level is clear and unanimous: at this stage, the time is not yet ripe for the Russian Armed Forces to directly intervene in the Sirian conflict."

"Not mature yet?! How can it possibly mature? Why?!"

The cook could no longer contain his rage and roared into the microphone, "Do we have to wait until Damascus becomes a second Mogadishu, until our flag is torn down from the ruins of Tartus before we're considered ready?! My men are bleeding here! For whose benefit?!"

"Watch your tone, Yevgeny!"

The other party's voice suddenly turned stern. "This is not an emotional game! This is a national strategy! What does it mean to send troops directly? It means giving the West the perfect excuse to sanction us! A new round of even harsher economic blockades and political isolation awaits us! To subject our entire country to such enormous risks for an ally far away in the Middle East that is already riddled with problems is not in our highest national interest! Do you understand?"

The bureaucrat's tone softened slightly, but remained uncompromising: "Your current task is to do your utmost, as 'military advisors' and 'volunteers,' to assist our friends in Silvia in stabilizing the front lines. We will consider increasing material and equipment support as appropriate. However, organized units in Russian military uniforms will absolutely not appear in Silvia. This is the final decision. Yevgeny, do your job well."

"Screw national interests! Screw your job!"

The cook completely exploded, veins bulging on his forehead, "This place is fucking finished! Finished! You guys in your warm offices in Moscow have no idea..."

"Beep—beep—beep—"

The other party abruptly hung up the phone.

The cook stood frozen in place, still holding the microphone, his arm trembling slightly with extreme anger.

The color drained from his face instantly, replaced by a pale and distorted expression of near despair.

"Sokka!"

Finally, as if all his strength had been drained, he slowly put down the microphone and let out a low growl that was suppressed to the extreme.

He braced his hands on the table, breathing heavily, as if the whole world was collapsing and dimming before his eyes.

Moscow's rejection was like the final boulder, crushing any remaining hope he had.

He even began to regret dragging Song Heping into this doomed situation.

Just when this suffocating despair was about to completely engulf him—

"Click."

A soft click of an electronic lock opening was unusually clear in the deathly silent command center.

The heavy, explosion-proof door, which had been closed for more than 24 hours, slowly opened inward.

Song Heping appeared at the door.

His face showed undisguised fatigue, and the whites of his eyes were bloodshot, but his gaze remained as sharp as ever.

The cook noticed that Song Heping was holding a thick tactical tablet.

All eyes instantly focused on Song Heping.

The hustle and bustle of the command center seemed to have been muted, and even the voices on the communicators seemed quieter.

The cook suddenly raised his head, his bloodshot eyes fixed on Song Heping, as if a drowning person had seen the last piece of driftwood, which held a glimmer of hope.

Song Heping's gaze calmly swept over the chaotic command center, past every officer whose face was filled with despair and exhaustion, and finally settled on the cook's distorted and pale face.

He didn't waste any words and went straight to the point:
"Cook. Immediately gather everyone who can make decisions. The Supreme Commander of the Celia Government Army, your core tactical staff, and all commanders at the brigade level or above whom you can contact. Video conferences are also acceptable."

He held up the tablet in his hand, his tone resolute:
"The meeting will begin in half an hour. We don't have much time."

After a pause, he said:
"Also, tell me where I can connect to the home screen?"

The cook was stunned for a full two seconds.

Song Heping's appearance, his resolute and unquestionable tone, and the tactical tablet in his hand that seemed to carry some kind of answer, were like a shot of adrenaline, instantly piercing his heart, which had been almost frozen by despair.

The flame of hope, which was on the verge of being extinguished, suddenly reignited.

"What did you say?"

The cook asked instinctively.

"Gather everyone, we'll have a meeting in half an hour. We need the main screen access point, now."

Song Heping repeated, his tone completely unchanged.

"Good! Good!"

The cook suddenly realized what was happening and almost jumped up. All his dejection and anger were instantly suppressed and replaced by a kind of excitement forced out by extreme pressure.

He knew that Song Heping's return to the command center meant that a plan had already been devised.

Saved!
He immediately turned to the command center and roared in his voice, which had regained some strength: "Did you all hear that?! Stop all useless complaining! Communications officer, immediately connect me to the emergency combat readiness lines of the General Staff in Damascus, the 4th Armored Division, the 106th Brigade of the Republican Guard... all commanders above the brigade level! Notify them that we will be holding an emergency operational meeting in half an hour, where important operational plans will be issued! Technicians! Check the main and backup lines to ensure video communication is uninterrupted! Hurry! Get moving!"

The once lifeless command center seemed to have been branded with a red-hot iron, instantly coming to life with a "sizzle".

The officers and soldiers were jolted from their despair by this sudden order. Although they didn't understand why, the cook's renewed fighting spirit and the mystery surrounding Song Heping made them subconsciously begin to carry out the orders.

The communication channel was once again filled with various calls, but unlike the previous chaos and despair, this time there was a hint of tension and purpose.

"The main screen interface is over there, the third input port on the left side of the console. It requires the highest level password."

The cook quickly spoke to Song Heping, pointing to the huge integrated display screen at the front of the hall.

Song Heping nodded and strode towards the control panel. A technical sergeant quickly stepped forward and entered a long string of passwords.

Song Heping connected the tactical tablet with a data cable and quickly operated it a few times.

A prompt for an encrypted connection appeared on the screen.

The cook watched Song Heping's retreating figure, took a deep breath, and forcibly suppressed the turmoil of emotions churning within him.

He walked to the communications station, picked up the encrypted phone, and began personally contacting the high-ranking Sirian generals who might also be in despair at that moment.

half an hour……

Time is pressing, like a noose around your neck.

Half an hour later.

The atmosphere inside the command center was extremely tense.

The huge main screen was divided into more than a dozen windows, each containing a face that was either anxious, tired, or doubtful.

They are the highest-ranking officers of the Syrian government forces who can still be effectively commanded. Some are in underground bunkers in Damascus, while others are in remote frontline command posts, with the faint sound of artillery fire in the background.

At the command center, the core Russian military advisory group, including staff officers, intelligence officers, and several senior liaison officers from the Siberian government forces responsible for coordination, were all present. All eyes were focused on the center of the main screen—where the main interface of Song Heping's tactical tablet was displayed, showing a complex battlefield situation map.

The cook stood in front of the screen, quickly scanning the various video windows. Without any pleasantries, he spoke directly, his voice hoarse yet carrying undeniable weight: "Gentlemen, this is Yevgeny. Time is of the essence, so let's cut to the chase. We face a desperate situation, but direct military intervention from Moscow is unlikely in the near future."

These words were like a bucket of cold water, making the faces of the generals in the video windows even more unpleasant, and some even let out suppressed sighs.

"but!"

The cook abruptly changed the subject, raising his voice, "We are not without a chance. Now, Mr. 'Ghost' will explain his battle plan to everyone. He is my best brother and the most capable military commander I have ever met. I believe that anyone who has been paying attention to the news from Africa and the recent situation in northwestern Iriego will know who he is. I urge you to listen carefully, evaluate thoroughly, and then execute the decision completely! This is our only chance to change the course of the war!"

He didn't give anyone time to ask questions or raise doubts, and immediately stepped aside to give his seat to Song Heping.

Song Heping stepped forward, his figure appearing in the foreground of all the video windows.

"Commanders, I am Song Heping, but many people like to call me 'Ghost'."

His voice was calm, yet possessed a strange penetrating power, suppressing all the noise and unease.

The anxious faces on the screen relaxed somewhat.

"The situation is critical, but the enemy's attack is not invincible. I analyzed a lot of intelligence and battle reports and found that they spread out too far. The three-sided attack seemed fierce, but in fact, the logistics of all the rebel forces were stretched to the limit, and the coordination between the various units was chaotic, which had fatal weaknesses."

He operated the tactical tablet, and the main screen switched to a map of the battlefield situation across Syria. The positions of the enemy and our forces were clearly marked in red and blue, and the jagged battlefield was a shocking sight.

"Our strategy is: attack from the south while keeping an eye on the north, harass from the middle, and cut off the roots from the outside." Song Heping's words were concise and powerful.

"Southern offensive. The main offensive force on the southern front is the 'Victory Front' and its affiliated foreign mercenary regiments. Their offensive is fierce, but they heavily rely on foreign funding and the professional combat capabilities of mercenaries. According to the latest intelligence from the Russian Main Intelligence Directorate (GRU)..."

He switched the screen to display a satellite image and signals intelligence analysis.

"A large number of foreign mercenaries and newly arrived equipment are entering Celia through secret passages. Most of them are assembling and preparing in the Otaba region. This will be the starting point for their next major offensive."

He zoomed in on the map, pointing to the town of Otaba and its surrounding area: "The terrain here is complex, with abandoned towns and hilly terrain, suitable for ambush. My plan is: instead of a direct confrontation, we will feign weakness to lure the enemy deeper into our territory. We will concentrate our most elite armored reserves, Republican Guard special forces, and all available artillery on the southern front to launch a large-scale annihilation campaign at our pre-planned ambush positions south of Otaba!"

"Operational objective—to completely crush or even annihilate the most elite foreign legion and assault force of the 'Victory Front'! If successful, the spearhead of the southern offensive will be broken, the enemy's morale will be severely damaged, and our army can take advantage of the situation to launch a counter-offensive and stabilize the entire southern front!"

On the screen, a Celia general couldn't help but interject, his voice thick with accent and doubt: "Otaba? The terrain there is indeed suitable for an ambush, but the enemy isn't stupid! How can we be sure they'll enter the ambush zone? Moreover, if we mobilize all our elite reserves and the ambush fails, or if the front line is breached prematurely, the southern gate of Damascus will be completely open!"

"Good question."

Song Heping was not annoyed by the interruption and responded calmly.

"First, we will meticulously plan our retreat and the enticement of the enemy, using intelligence deception and electronic warfare to make them believe that our southern defense line is on the verge of collapse, allowing their attack to achieve maximum results. Second, the ambush force must be absolutely concealed to achieve surprise. Third, this is a gamble, but it's worth it compared to waiting for the entire line to collapse in three days! As for the front line, it must be held at all costs before the ambush begins! There is no way out!"

He paused, his tone becoming even more serious: "At the same time, this is only part of the plan. To truly alleviate the pressure, we must dismantle the offensive of the 1515 militia, currently the most ferocious group in the east, but we need external forces to cooperate in dealing with the 1515 militia."

The scene then switches again, with the map jumping to the eastern border of Syria and extending to the northern part of neighboring Iligo.

"The main force of the 1515 militants is launching a fierce attack on Deir ez-Zor, and some militants are advancing westward and threatening Palmyra, east of Damascus. If this momentum is not stopped, they will reach Damascus within a week."

"The 1515 armed force has a large number of personnel and strong combat capabilities..."

On the screen, a Celian general in charge of the eastern defense said with a worried expression, "We have fought desperately to organize a defense, but they are flexible in their tactics. When they encounter towns that they can't break through, they give up the attack and use pickup trucks and armored vehicles to quickly bypass the defense line and attack our rear and flanks... We have limited manpower and simply cannot defend against them..."

"It's pointless to confront them head-on. They have more troops than you have deployed in the east, and their equipment is no worse. A head-on confrontation or a full-scale defense is meaningless."

Song Heping switched the situation map on the screen to the border of Iligor.

"Their weakness lies not in their frontline troops, but in their supplies and manpower replenishment. According to intelligence, more than 60 percent of the military supplies of the 1515 militia in the east come from the Dehok region in northern Iligo! That is their logistical heart, a hub for supplies, and one of the main channels through which foreign terrorists infiltrate Syria."

Song Heping's voice carried a chilling killing intent, "Strike the snake at its vital point. We must take down Dai Huke's supply transit point!"

These words caused everyone present to gasp in shock, including the cook, who felt that Song Heping's plan was too crazy.

Cross-border attack?

How easy is this!
A Russian military staff officer frowned and said, "Mr. Song, we currently do not have any organized forces in Iligo! Moreover, cross-border operations carry extremely high political risks!"

"You have no power, but I do..."

Song Heping said firmly, as he operated his tablet, and a new video connection window appeared on the screen.

After a few seconds of hissing from encrypted communication, the image stabilized, revealing several figures—in the background was a simple but militaristic tent, with Jiang Feng, Nassin, Samir, and Abuyu prominently displayed, and behind them were busy crowds and vaguely visible weapons and equipment.

"This is……"

The cook's pupils contracted slightly.

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(End of this chapter)