Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1144 SSO Special Forces
In the distance, the engines of HTS-armed tanks roared with a deep rumble, like a hungry herd of beasts in the wilderness, the screeching sound of their tracks crushing through the ruins growing ever closer.

Song Heping stood at the observation post of the temporary command post, his hands, which were covered in sweat, as he held up the binoculars.

The sight of that moving torrent of steel in his field of vision made him furrow his brow tightly.

Those were not harassment by scattered soldiers, but rather attacks with a clear direction and some resemblance to coordinated infantry and tank tactics in conventional warfare.

When did the Free Army and HTS acquire this level of organization and equipment?
There must be something fishy behind this!
Song Heping was almost certain that someone had provided military training and guidance to these armed groups, which were essentially a mob.

"Damn it, did these bastards pull out all their secrets, or are they on drugs?"

A Syrian officer standing nearby spoke in a trembling voice, his face as pale as paper.

It's no wonder he was terrified. The government forces' outdated RPG-7 rocket launchers were practically useless against hordes of T-72s and modified armed pickup trucks in open terrain.

The defenses were being peeled away layer by layer, and collapse seemed to be only a matter of time.

Song Heping put down his binoculars and turned to the cook: "When exactly will the Russian ground troops arrive in Homs?"

"Cook" Yevgeny pulled out his heavy satellite phone with an encrypted antenna, his thick fingers quickly swiping across the screen to check the latest encrypted communication records.

A few seconds later, he looked up, his face grim, and said:
“We spoke with Tartus beforehand. The situation isn’t optimistic. The first unit that can be deployed to Holmes, that meat grinder, is a reinforced battalion from the Marine Infantry Brigade stationed at Tartus base. But…”

He paused, his throat a little dry. "Even if they complete the assembly, load the equipment, and the convoy moves on without any obstacles, they won't arrive in Holmes until noon tomorrow at the earliest."

"Tomorrow at noon?!"

Song Heping's heart sank.

The HTS armored group in the scope advanced at a speed like a hot knife through butter. At this rate, it's uncertain whether they'll even see the sun tomorrow, let alone hold out until noon.

The courage of the government soldiers is being worn down little by little by the absolute disparity in strength, and their morale is on the verge of collapse.

Are they hoping for ground reinforcements to arrive and save the day?

It's probably too late by now!

Song Heping took a deep breath of the gunpowder-smelling air and forced himself to calm down.

The brain, like a high-speed computer, instantly eliminates unrealistic options.

"Ground forces are out of the question. But now that Moscow has rolled up its sleeves and entered the fray, shouldn't the iron fist of the air be raised? Cook, forget the usual channels. Immediately use your connections at the Khmeimim base to contact the person who makes the final decision and request top-priority emergency air support! The target is the HTS armored group rolling in from the north of Homs! We must stop their attack immediately! If we're any later, Homs will be gone!"

"Okay, let me try!"

The cook knew the value of every minute and second.

He stopped wasting words and dialed a higher-level number stored deep within the phone system.

After a brief but anxious transfer and tedious identity verification, he finally heard a slightly deep voice with a typical Russian bureaucratic tone—the other party was the chief of staff of the Russian Army's Joint Operations Command in Sierra Leone, a high-ranking official.

The cook spoke at breakneck speed, almost shouting, giving the most concise and forceful report on the precarious state of the Homs Line, especially the enemy's unexpectedly large number of tanks and armored vehicles, and the extreme danger of the line being breached at any moment.

He emphasized the catastrophic impact of the loss of Holmes on the entire war effort, and almost used his last bit of sentiment and credibility to request the immediate deployment of the Aerospace Force.

There was silence on the other end of the phone for a few seconds, with only the faint noise of the electrical current; those few seconds felt like an eternity.

Then, the chief of staff's voice rang out again, still carrying that unhurried, bureaucratic tone: "Colonel Yevgeny, we have recorded the battlefield situation you reported in detail. However, as you also know, deploying the Aerospace Forces to carry out ground attack missions, especially close air support (CAS), requires strict adherence to the rules of engagement and approval procedures, and necessitates rigorous target identification and confirmation to minimize the risk of civilian and friendly casualties. We need time to consult with higher command. Please keep communications open and patiently await further instructions."

After saying that, he hung up the phone directly.

"Wait?! By the time you fucking finish your meeting and get everything stamped, HTS tanks could be planting flags on top of the Holmes City Hall!"

Hearing the busy tone on the phone, the cook's face flushed red as he launched into a tirade, spitting as he cursed: "These bastards sitting in air-conditioned rooms! Bureaucratic parasites! They have no idea what the front lines are like! All talk and no action, just a bunch of damn armchair strategists!"

Looking at the furious "cook," Song Heping's hope of quickly obtaining support through official channels was completely extinguished.

But he understands the inertia of the Russian military's massive war machine. Starting, coordinating, and approving each step takes time, but war never gives people time, especially the weaker party.

It's better to rely on yourself than on others! An extremely dangerous plan with a slim chance of success, but which might be the only way to quickly turn the tide of the battle, took shape in his mind like lightning.

"cook!"

Song Heping's voice was low and resolute, interrupting Yevgeny's curses, "We can't place our hopes on the Russian army! We have to rely on ourselves!"

The cook turned to look at him: "Rely on yourselves? How? We don't have anti-tank weapons. Are you going to repeat the battle of Haibaib, luring people in before fighting them?"

Song Heping's finger slammed heavily into a blurry area behind the enemy lines on the map: "Let's do what I do best—decapitation!"

"For HTS and the Free Army, this rabble, to organize an armored coordinated attack of this intensity and scale, their forward command post could not possibly be too far away! It must be located in some concealed place where they can observe the battlefield, most likely in a village or abandoned factory to the side or rear of the attack axis."

He looked up, his gaze fixed intently on the "cook": "From Wagner, immediately select a group of the most elite veterans, the most skilled in nighttime infiltration and close-quarters assault. Twenty to thirty should suffice, but they must be absolutely reliable and dare to risk their lives! Equip them with the best night vision goggles, silenced weapons, and explosives! I will personally lead the team, infiltrating their lines through their weak points or gaps, and taking out their command center!"

The command post fell silent instantly, with only the faint sound of distant artillery fire and the heavy breathing of the crew remaining.

Everyone was stunned by Song Heping's audacious, almost insane plan.

Deep behind enemy lines, in the heart of an enemy force several times or even dozens of times larger than ourselves, to find and destroy the command center?
If one is not careful, it could be suicide!

The cook's pupils suddenly contracted: "Song! This is too risky! The success rate is less than 10%! Once exposed, you'll be surrounded and killed without a trace!"

"Staying here and waiting for the defenses to collapse will only lead to death! And it will be a pointless death!"

Song Heping's tone remained unwavering, becoming even more resolute.

“Smash their heads, and even the thickest snake body will be paralyzed! As long as their command system is disrupted for even an hour or two, the frontline offensive will inevitably break down, and we can buy precious breathing time to hold out until the Russian ground troops or... in case those bureaucrats get it... and actually send air support! This is currently the only way to proactively create an opportunity!”

Looking into Song Heping's eyes, the cook knew that once this brother made a decision, nothing could change his mind.

Moreover, he had to admit that in a desperate situation, this might be the only lever that could break the deadlock.

A surge of adrenaline rushed to his head, and he gritted his teeth: "Suka! I'll go with you! Damn it, so what if we're risking our lives? Wagner may not have much else, but it has plenty of fearless lunatics! I'm going to pick some guys right now!"

After saying that, the "cook" turned around and was about to rush out of the command post to assemble the team, looking as if he was about to go and perish together with the enemy.

However, the moment he took a step, the satellite phone, as if unwilling to be left out, suddenly began to vibrate and ring rapidly.

The sudden ringing of the bell sounded particularly jarring in the oppressive command post.

The cook paused, turned around in confusion, picked up the phone, and glanced at the number displayed on the screen—the very same Russian military command number that had just infuriated him.

He took a deep breath, suppressed his anger, and pressed the answer button, his tone still flaring: "Hello?! What instructions do you have now?!"

But this time, the voice on the other end of the phone was completely different.

The previous bureaucratic jargon and rambling had vanished, replaced by a concise, forceful, and even slightly urgent tone: "Colonel Yevgeny! Good news! The Supreme Command has granted top-priority emergency air support to the Homs direction! The Aerospace Force's attack aircraft have already scrambled from Khmeimim Air Base! They are expected to arrive in the Homs airspace in twenty minutes!"

The situation suddenly took an unexpected turn!

"Great!"

The cook's gloomy expression was instantly replaced by ecstatic joy; he almost jumped up. "Do we need to go forward and provide target information? My team is experienced and can establish forward observation points!"

"No need."

The chief of staff's answer surprised him once again: "There is currently an SSO special forces unit on its way near Holmes. They have reached the outskirts of Holmes and will make contact with you soon."

"SSO?"

Song Heping's heart trembled slightly.

　Asking for a monthly ticket!

　　
　
(End of this chapter)