Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1281 Unidentified Troops

Bakta Green Zone, U.S. Joint Command Center.

Colonel Kurt leaned back in the high-backed chair at the command post, his fingers rhythmically tapping the smooth armrests.

The six screens in front of me displayed real-time views of the battlefield in northwestern Iligor. On the central screen, a convoy of more than twenty armed pickup trucks and a small number of armored vehicles was trapped in a pile of rubble.

"Colonel, latest intelligence."

Intelligence officer Lieutenant Jenkins turned around, his face clearly excited. "Song Heping's troops' radio traffic dropped by 70 percent in fifteen minutes, and their drone activity has completely ceased. Satellite thermal imaging shows that their vehicle formations are shrinking their defensive perimeter."

Kurt smiled and took a sip of his coffee.

The rich aroma of Colombian coffee beans filled my mouth, as intoxicating as the pleasant feeling brought about by the current situation.

"What about the casualties?"

"According to drone surveillance, they have lost at least sixty armed pickup trucks, and nearly twenty BTR-80 armored personnel carriers are disabled on the spot. More importantly..."

Jenkins pulled up another set of data: "The reinforcements of the 1515 armed forces have blocked all roads from Baiji to the Sinjar region. Song Heping is now truly trapped."

"Good! Great!"

Kurt nodded in satisfaction, his gaze falling on the small window in the lower right corner of the screen.

Those were Song Heping's communication channel monitoring records—

In the past two hours, the channel has made seven urgent requests for assistance to the U.S. military command, each time with increasing frequency and urgency.

"Aren't they giving up yet?" Kurt asked, his voice laced with undisguised sarcasm.

"Yes, Colonel. They sent another encrypted request three minutes ago, claiming that without air support, they would be wiped out within two hours."

Communications Officer Wilson replied.

Kurt sneered, "Tell them that due to extreme weather conditions, all air support is temporarily unable to take off. Advise them to hold their ground and await reinforcements."

A few suppressed laughs echoed in the command center.

Everyone knew what Kurt meant by "extreme weather conditions"—clear skies and visibility exceeding ten miles, perfect weather for an air strike.

"Song Heping is really anxious this time."

Operations staff officer Lieutenant Colonel Miller walked over to Kurt and handed him a paper report. "We intercepted their internal communications. Samir called Song Heping on the radio, suggesting that they consider breaking out separately. Song Heping believed that if they broke out separately, they would only be wiped out one by one by the 1515 militia, so he did not agree."

Kurt glanced at the report, his smile widening:

"Scatter and break out? In that kind of terrain? They'll be hunted down like rabbits."

He stood up, walked to the huge tactical map, and pointed the laser pointer at the blue dot surrounded by red markers.

"Who does Song Heping think he is? Does he think he can establish his own little kingdom in northwestern Iligo with just his two elite mercenary battalions? He's forgotten whose territory this is."

The atmosphere in the command center was relaxed and pleasant.

After being repeatedly outmaneuvered by Song Heping, Kurt and his supporters at the Pentagon had been waiting for such an opportunity.

An uncontrolled private military company operating in a sensitive region poses a potential threat to U.S. strategic interests.

Now, by using the 1515 armed forces to eliminate this troublesome group, and at the same time severely weakening the 1515 armed forces, this situation is so perfect it seems unreal.

"Colonel, drone reconnaissance shows that the 1515 armed group is mobilizing heavy weapons."

Intelligence analysts suddenly reported, "They have brought at least twenty 122mm howitzers from the Mosul direction and are setting up artillery positions."

Kurt squinted: "Location?"

"It is located about eight kilometers from Song Heping's troops' defensive perimeter, in a concealed location in the river valley."

“Very good.” Kote nodded. “Notify the intelligence department to monitor closely, but do not take any action. This is a battle between Song Heping and 1515; we will not interfere.”

Everyone understood his subtext.

We will not interfere until Song Heping and his troops are completely annihilated.

Time passed by minute by minute.

On the large screen in the command center, red markers representing the 1515 armed forces surged toward the blue defensive circle like a tide.

The high-definition images transmitted back by the drone clearly show rockets and mortar shells exploding on the positions of the "Liberation Forces" troops, with black smoke columns shooting into the sky.

"Their defensive perimeter is shrinking," Jenkins reported. "The eastern flank has been breached, and some areas are now engaged in hand-to-hand combat."

Kurt sat back in the command seat, crossed his arms over his chest, and a cold glint flashed in his eyes.

He recalled his meeting with Song Heping two months ago.

He recalled the scene where the Chinese mercenary leader had humiliated him severely.

Now, this naive idealist is about to pay the price for his arrogance.

Kurt could almost picture Song Heping's expression at that moment—would that overly calm face show despair for the first time?

Thinking of this, he couldn't help but grin.
“Colonel!” Jenkins suddenly raised his voice, a hint of confusion in his tone, “The northern surveillance post has reported an anomaly.”

Kurt frowned: "What's going on?"

"A large-scale ground movement has been detected in the direction of Kirkuk. The number of people involved is very large, extremely large."

Jenkins stared at the screen, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "The drone is adjusting its course to conduct reconnaissance."

"Is it reinforcements from 1515?" Lieutenant Colonel Miller asked.

"Not like."

Jenkins shook his head. "The movement is from north to south, not from the direction of Titrick controlled by 1515. And..."

He paused, his voice becoming serious, "Very fast, extremely fast, they are a fully mechanized force."

Kurt suddenly stood up and strode over to Jenkins' workstation.

The radar data on the screen was displayed as green ripples, and a large number of moving signals appeared in the northern region, forming a huge arrow that was rapidly advancing southward.

"Size estimate?" Kurt asked.

"At least a thousand independent signals, mostly from vehicles."

Jenkins swallowed hard. "That means a mechanized force, possibly the size of a division or brigade."

The relaxed atmosphere in the command center instantly froze.

A mechanized force of division or brigade size?
Northwest of Iligo?
Apart from the Iligor government forces, there is no regular armed force of this size in this region, not even the Kolds have such strong mechanization capabilities.

"Move the drones over there now!"

Kurt commanded, a hint of tension in his voice.

The images on the central large screen are changing.

A dozen minutes later, the drone swooped down from the sky, passed through the clouds, and the ground gradually became clear.

At first, it was just a blurry moving speck, but as the camera zoomed in, everyone gasped.

On a winding highway, a torrent of steel is rolling forward.

Leading the way was a long line of modified armed pickup trucks, each equipped with a heavy machine gun or automatic grenade launcher.

Following closely behind were dozens of wheeled armored vehicles—

It was not the Stryker or M1117 familiar to the US military, but the Russian BTR series and a uniquely styled six-wheeled armored vehicle with a low profile and a 30mm cannon mounted on the turret.

Even more shocking was the middle section of the convoy—

At least twenty T-72 main battle tanks, their guns pointed to the sky, their tracks kicking up clouds of dust.

Tanks were interspersed with 122mm self-propelled howitzers and multiple rocket launchers, and the entire convoy stretched for several kilometers, like a giant steel python traversing the wasteland north of Iligo.

"What's this?"

"Lieutenant Colonel Miller murmured."

Kurt's face turned ashen. He grabbed the walkie-talkie and shouted, "Zoom in! Zoom in on the image! I want to see the details!"

The drone operator adjusted the focus, locking the image onto the side of an armored vehicle. There were no markings, flags, or unit insignia on the vehicle.

The soldiers wore uniform desert camouflage, but the style was neither that of the US military, nor that of the Iligor government forces, nor that of the chaotic mix of uniforms worn by the 1515 militia.

"Weapon identification," Kurt commanded.

The intelligence analyst quickly got to work: "The machine guns of the lead vehicles are mainly DShK and NSV heavy machine guns, and some vehicles are equipped with Hermes anti-tank missiles, etc. What are those?"

The scene shifts to a close-up: next to the turret of an armored vehicle, two soldiers are operating a device whose optical lens reflects a cold light in the sunlight.

“An air defense system?” Jenkins said uncertainly. “Like the ‘Sayyd’ portable air defense missile, a Persian standard weapon.”

The word "Persian" exploded like a bomb in the command center.

“Continue!” Kurt’s voice became hoarse.

"The tank is a T-72S model, a Persian improved version, equipped with additional explosive reactive armor and a laser rangefinder. The armored vehicle is the 'Storm' wheeled armored vehicle, a domestically produced Persian model. The self-propelled artillery is suspected to be the 'Thunder' 122mm self-propelled howitzer, based on the 2S1."

"Enough!" Kurt interrupted the analysis, slamming his fist on the control panel. "Calculate their route and destination!"

On the tactical map, a red predicted route was marked. The end of that line was precisely where fierce fighting was taking place in the northern region of Baiji—the location where Song Heping's troops were besieged.

"How much longer until they reach the combat zone?" Kurt asked in a low voice.

“At the current speed, it will take less than an hour,” Jenkins replied. “At full speed, it will take forty minutes.”

　Asking for a monthly ticket!

　　
　
(End of this chapter)