Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1208 The Miracle of Four Hours (2)

In fact, not only were the Americans shocked, but the Russians were also stunned by the news that Song Heping had captured Daguge in four hours.

8:15 a.m.

Russian military frontline command post in a western coastal city of Syria.

Brigadier General Netsov sat on an old sofa in the command post, listening to his staff read Daguk's battle report in a chanting tone.

"...The enemy's organized resistance basically ceased before 10:00 AM. Their main force had already been largely annihilated within the pre-designated annihilation zone..."

Netsov puffed on his cigarette expressionlessly, his grey-blue eyes squinting through the smoke as he stared at the location of Daguk on the tattered map on the table. When he heard, "Enemy casualties exceed 1,500, while our casualties are 170," his fingers holding the cigarette paused for a moment.

"Four hours..."

He exhaled a smoke ring and turned to the chief of staff beside him: "Abramov, what do you think?"

Colonel Abramov, the scarred man next to him, snorted, "Hmph! That kid saw right through those lunatics' brains, and he even used them to his advantage, beheading prisoners like the Kolde women to lure those brain-dead 1515s into a charge... Only mercenaries would dare to do something like that. If we did it, we'd be drowned in international condemnation..."

"That's the advantage of being a mercenary..."

Netsov nodded slowly, then lifted his thick eyelids and said, "Immediately order 'The Cook's' Wagner mercenary group to attack the salient west of Rakasi according to the 'Fortress-Assault' plan. At the same time, order the government army's southern group to launch an offensive towards Palmyra. That kid Song has already heated the pot red-hot; we can't just stand by and watch. Tell the lads, if we're going to fight, we have to fight with the spirit of the Siberian cold wave! Let those hyenas in the sand learn their lesson!"

"Yes!"

Abramov stood at attention, turned around, and went to carry out the order.

Persia, the forward command center of the Holy City Brigade.

The command center was sparsely furnished, except for a map displayed on a large screen.

A smile crept across Afanti's face as he looked at the flashing messages on the encrypted communicator.

"Daguk has been captured, almost a day faster than we expected."

After a moment of contemplation, he said to his deputy, "This is a golden opportunity for us..."

As he sighed, he envisioned the future when the Shia Crescent would be successfully pieced together with the final piece of the puzzle.

6 years.

This plan took a full six years to develop.

So much money was invested, and so many pro-Persian armed groups were cultivated.

They've won over so many pro-Persian politicians in neighboring countries...

Unfortunately, Iligo, which is controlled by the Americans, is unable to get involved.

Sometimes, when Afanti thinks back, he really has to thank the 1515 Armed Forces.

Without the emergence of this extremist group, perhaps northwestern Syria would still be under American control.

The arrival of 1515 directly turned this place into the eye of a chaotic storm, not only eliminating numerous armed factions in northwestern Iligo, but also driving out the government troops supported by the Americans.

Song Heping has now successfully united several forces to strike at 1515, and has achieved a resounding victory right from the start.

At first, Afanti was slightly worried about Song Heping's ability to command large forces, after all, he was just a retired sergeant from the PLA special forces.

A non-commissioned officer is not on the same level as an officer who has received formal training.

In retrospect, my previous worries were unnecessary.

This little boy surnamed Song has brought me so many surprises!
When he first met Song Heping, he decided to befriend him and instructed Nassin to order the Quds Force special forces and pro-Persian armed groups in northwestern Iligo to stop causing trouble for Song Heping's two oil fields.

Looking back now, it was one of the wisest decisions I ever made.

If Song Heping is pushed to the opposite side...

Ha ha.

The consequences now are simply unimaginable.

The deputy hesitated: "Sir, should we slow down our original infiltration and harassment plan? They're advancing too fast; we're worried our logistics won't be able to keep up..."

"No, quite the contrary."

Afanti shook his head: "This is your only chance. Order the elite squads of 'Badr' and 'Allah's Brigade' to move! Intensify your efforts to disrupt all communication lines, supply points, and outposts to the northwest and north of Titrick. Before Song Heping's forces reach Hurmatu, create as many breaches as possible and throw them into chaos!"

He walked to the screen and poked his finger at Hurmatu, north of Titrick.

"Pass down the message: the wind has already picked up in Daguk. We must make this wind turn into a hurricane that will tear houses down when it reaches Titrick!"

Before the siege of Daguk, the United States, Russia, and Persia all adopted a wait-and-see attitude.

Humans have a natural tendency to seek advantage and avoid harm.

Whether it's the nation or military command.

It's unavoidable.

In any joint operation, the most difficult part is the start.

If you get off to a good start and the situation is favorable, everyone will swarm in like crazy.

If the start is poor and the situation turns unfavorable, the other parties will adopt a more conservative strategy.

The same applies to this "Meltdown" operation.

Everyone actually has their own ulterior motives.

Because they were adversaries before, they were afraid that this cooperation was just a pretext, a trap set by the other side to lure them in.

Whether it's the Americans or the Russians.

Appointing Song Hepin as the commander-in-chief was not because they disliked leading the entire operation.

Rather, who is in charge means who will take the lead and who will be the first to charge forward.

Nobody likes playing this role.

This is precisely where Song Heping's position as commander-in-chief faces difficulties.

He must win a brilliant siege of Dagug to boost morale and turn the tide; otherwise, the old Deng men behind him will not take the initiative to attack.

In the great power rivalry, there are no good guys.

At this moment, Dagug's start had already given everyone a shot of adrenaline.

Everyone witnessed how the 1515 armed force, which had been invincible for the past two years, was so vulnerable in front of Song Heping, surrendering in just four hours.

This shock not only jolted the military, but also kept intelligence agencies busy.

Inside the CIA Middle East Operations Center in Langley, the lobby was brightly lit, and fragments of information about the Battle of Daguk were being frantically gathered and analyzed. "SIR, the tactical assessment and threat level of 'Ghost' (Song Heping's codename) must be raised immediately."

A young analyst handed the report to his supervisor, his tone serious. "He not only achieved tactical surprise, but he's also incredibly adept at 'hybrid warfare.' He managed to transform a ragtag army into a highly efficient killing machine. His use of firepower—timing, density, precision—especially that final battlefield cleanup... was ruthless."

The supervisor was a veteran agent with gray hair. He carefully flipped through the report, his gaze lingering on the satellite image analysis describing the "purification zone" outside the city.

"A casualty ratio of nearly one to twenty... and this was a siege battle..."

He muttered to himself, tapping his fingers on the table, “Find his weaknesses. No one is a perfect war machine. Was it our air support that worked? Or was it his personal ability? Report all of this and tell others. This is a good opportunity for analysis. We need to profile and analyze Song Heping in detail. I need to know all his strengths and weaknesses so that if I need to ‘keep an eye on’ him in the future, I’ll know where to start.”

He looked up and glanced around the hall: "Raise the monitoring and psychological analysis of Song Heping and his inner circle to the highest level in the region. I need to know who he meets next, what orders he gives, and even... whether he sighs when he's alone."

An invisible net silently enveloped the eye of the storm that had just created a miracle.

While everyone was focused on Song Heping, the protagonist of the whole drama, Song Heping, was walking onto the main street of Daguk, where the battle had just ended, under the escort of a team of elite guards.

He realized that he wasn't standing on a road, but on a mixture of broken bricks, bullet casings, and some other kind of black ash.

With every step you take, you can feel how badly this city has just been beaten up.

The air was sticky, and a strange smell assaulted my senses—the choking fumes of gunpowder, the stench of blood, the acrid smell of burning food, and…

It has a faint smell, like burnt meat.

The smell lingers in my nose and throat, and I can't shake it off.

There wasn't a single decent house on either side of the street. The crumbling walls and broken bricks looked like they'd been gnawed by a monster, and the steel bars were twisted into bizarre shapes.

The walls were riddled with bullet holes, and the areas blasted by RPGs were completely blackened.

Some of the bike frames were still smoking, and the melted tires lay on the ground looking like lumps of black excrement.

Occasionally, you can see some odds and ends—a child's worn-out shoes, a half-burnt scripture, a cracked pot—reminding you that people used to live here.

Song Heping felt as if something had gripped his heart tightly.

What does war mean for civilians?
Aside from the destruction of their families and the loss of their loved ones, it seems there's nothing else...

A group of militiamen from the Abuyu Brigade pushed and shoved a dozen or so prisoners of war, whom they had just captured from the partially collapsed building, out of the alley.

These prisoners were dressed in tattered clothes, covered in dirt and blood, their faces showing fear and numbness, and a few of them still had a fierce glint in their eyes.

The militiamen stabbed them with their rifle butts and cursed them in their local dialect, leaving the prisoners dazed and bewildered.

One of them had a leg injury, and blood was still seeping out, leaving a red mark on the ground.

Song Heping's gaze swept over the prisoners, his face expressionless.

There was no joy in winning, nor any unnecessary pity.

For him, losing means losing everything, including his life.

He didn't look at it much, his gaze shifting to the casualty report tablet that the staff officer handed him.

Dead: 41. Wounded: 133.

Numbers are cold.

He didn't even know who had died.

For a commander, it's just a series of numbers used to calculate the situation and the gains and losses.

He lightly swiped his finger across the list of casualties on the tablet, the movement so subtle it was almost invisible.

There was a silence of about three seconds, a very subtle ripple flashed in his eyes, and then nothing more...

All emotions were suppressed.

War is about taking lives.

He understood better than anyone that a kind heart cannot command an army.

But when he looked away from the tablet and into the street, a completely different scene came into view.

In some relatively uninhabitable corners and basement entrances, groups of three to five civilians began to peek out like frightened rats.

They were all emaciated, their eyes filled with the terror and bewilderment of having just escaped a calamity.

An elderly woman with a face full of wrinkles was tightly holding a child who could only sob and couldn't even cry, staring blankly at her home that had become ruins.

Not far away, by the broken wall, a man who had lost a leg was haphazardly wrapping his wound with a dirty cloth. Blood was still flowing, and his face was expressionless, ashen.

Suppressed, intermittent sobs drifted faintly from different directions, like tiny needles pricking the deathly silence that had just been ravaged by gunfire.

Song Heping sighed inwardly.

Mercy?
Yes.

He's not made of stone.

What did these ordinary people do to deserve this? They're just the most worthless pawns in this grand game.

My home is gone, my family is gone, and I don't know how I'll live from now on.

But he was even more aware of a cruel truth—in this place ravaged by extremism and war for too long, short-term pain is always better than long-term pain.

The civilians of Daguk would not fare any better under the rule of the 1515 armed forces.

The destruction and death brought about by this military operation are the bloody price to pay, but driving away 1515 is for a hopeful future.

"There's always a price to pay..."

He silently repeated it to himself, as if trying to convince himself.

He can't be soft-hearted.

Otherwise, we might lose even more brothers and civilians.

He shoved the tablet back into the staff officer's hand, his voice regaining its usual calm: "Order one battalion to remain stationed here. The remaining combat units must replenish their ammunition and fuel within one hour and conduct a brief equipment check. Seriously wounded personnel should be handed over to the remaining battalion and medical team and prioritized for transport to the field hospital in Erbil."

He stopped and stood at a relatively open crossroads, addressed the several key commanders who had gathered around him: "Daguk is the first rock we kick up on our way south. Titrick, however, is the hard nut we must ultimately crack. Before we reach Titrick, Hurmatu—its most important northern barrier—must be taken as quickly as possible!"

He whirled around, his gaze sweeping across the faces of every commander: "All troops assemble. Target: Hurmatu. Depart in one hour!"

At the command, like a red-hot iron block thrown into water, with a hissing sound, the entire army, which had just finished fighting and hadn't even caught its breath, sprang into action again.

　Asking for a monthly ticket!

　　
　
(End of this chapter)