Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1283 Flanking Maneuver! Assault!
Thirty kilometers north of Baiji, the barren Gobi Desert glows with a dark red light in the afterglow of dusk.

Az stood on his command pickup truck, holding up binoculars, a smug look on his face.

On the horizon ahead, the pursuing forces he had dispatched had already caught up with Song Heping's troops—

At least that's what he thought.

Dozens of armed pickup trucks kicked up clouds of dust, and the flames from the heavy machine guns mounted on the trucks were particularly conspicuous in the darkening sky.

"Warriors of Allah! Forward! Crush these infidels!"

Az shouted into the radio, spitting everywhere.

His 20,000-strong army, like a black tide, launched a pursuit across a front more than five kilometers wide.

Although the previous ambush caused him considerable losses, his numerical superiority remained overwhelming.

Moreover, he received reliable intelligence—the closest Baiji to Song Heping was only a little over a thousand soldiers from the Abuyu Brigade.

In other words, they will not receive any reinforcements.

After capturing Song Heping's army of several thousand men, perhaps the next step would be to join forces and advance westward to take Baiji and regain control of the area!

Thinking of this, Az couldn't help but laugh again.

"Sir, the reconnaissance team on the north flank reports that they have spotted unidentified dust."

Suddenly, a slightly hesitant voice came from the radio.

"Dust?"

Az frowned. "Sandstorms are common this time of year. Have them continue monitoring. Everyone, speed up! We must wipe out this rescue force before Song Heping's main force arrives!"

He put down his binoculars and took a deep breath of the air, which smelled of gunpowder.

It feels so good to be on the verge of victory.

Just then, the northern sky seemed to suddenly darken.

No.

no……

That wasn't a change in the weather.

More dust, a cloud of dust that blots out the sky, sweeps in from the north like a sandstorm.

But Az, who had fought in Iligor for many years, could tell that it was not a natural sandstorm.

That was the dust cloud raised by a large-scale armored force marching forward!

"What the hell is that...?"

He muttered to himself, a sense of foreboding rising in his heart.

The next second, his premonition came true.

At the forefront of the dust cloud, dozens of steel figures suddenly rushed out.

T-72S main battle tank!

There are no signs at all!

But it is definitely not a branch of the 1515 armed forces.

These tanks deployed in a wedge-shaped attack formation, with the barrels of their 125mm smoothbore guns constantly being fine-tuned as they moved, searching for their targets.

On either side of them were more BMP-2 infantry fighting vehicles, their 30mm autocannons on the roofs already raised to firing angles.

Between these armored vehicles were hundreds of military trucks, each filled with fully armed soldiers.

They wore new bulletproof helmets, desert camouflage combat uniforms, and were equipped with replica S-5.56 assault rifles and Soviet-made rocket launchers.

Most notably, almost every squad was equipped with night vision goggles—although it wasn't completely dark yet, many soldiers had already put them on their helmets.

On the command vehicle, Afanti put down his binoculars.

The supreme commander of the Persian Revolutionary Guard had hawk-like eyes and a meticulously trimmed, short, gray beard.

"Attention all units!"

He calmly spoke into the radio, “Proceed according to plan. The armored battalion will break through from the front, the mechanized infantry battalion will flank from both sides, and the special operations battalion will be responsible for the decapitation strike. We must defeat them before sunset.”

“Allahu Akbar!”

The radio broadcast the deep, resolute responses from the battalion commanders.

Afanti looked at the electronic tactical screen, which displayed the real-time situation of the entire battlefield.

His troops—a full 15,000 of the Revolutionary Guard's most elite "Quds Force" soldiers—were like a meticulously forged Persian scimitar, slashing fiercely from north to south, with the blade aimed precisely at the unsuspecting flank of the 1515 forces.

"General, the reconnaissance aircraft has detected a cluster of enemy command vehicles, and the coordinates have been sent," the intelligence officer reported.

Afanti nodded slightly: "Tell the advance troops that it's their meal."

The flank forces of the 1515 armed force were the first to discover the anomaly.

A patrol consisting of twelve armed pickup trucks is heading north on alert.

The captain was a veteran in his forties who had participated in many battles.

When he saw the torrent of steel appearing on the horizon, he froze for three seconds, then roared into the radio:

"Armored units! There are armored units in the north! Lots of them—"

Before the words were finished, a sharp whistling sound came from afar.

boom!
A 125mm high-explosive grenade accurately hit the lead pickup truck fifty meters ahead.

Although it did not hit directly, the massive shockwave and debris instantly overturned the entire vehicle, killing the five militants inside instantly.

Immediately afterwards, more shells fell.

The T-72S tanks began their first salvo at a distance of 2,500 meters.

These modernized tanks are equipped with new fire control systems, which, although outdated by Western standards, are tantamount to annihilation for the 1515 armed forces, which only have light weapons.

"Tanks! They have tanks!"

"Retreat! Retreat quickly!"

The 1515th unit on the flank was thrown into chaos.

They had never faced an assault by a well-organized armored force.

These militants are skilled in urban guerrilla warfare and ambush tactics, and they have no idea how to deal with the armored assault of regular troops.

Some attempted to retaliate with RPG rocket launchers, but the frontal armor of the T-72S tank was perfectly capable of withstanding RPG-7 attacks at such a distance.

Moreover, the tanks didn't give them a chance to get close at all.

"Machine gunner, fire freely!"

The tank commanders calmly gave their orders.

The T-72S's coaxial machine gun and roof-mounted anti-aircraft machine gun fired simultaneously, and the 7.62mm and 12.7mm bullets swept away the militants who tried to resist or escape like the Grim Reaper's scythe.

Bullets hitting the sand kicked up clouds of dust, while those hitting human bodies splattered blood mist everywhere.

At the same time, the BMP-2 infantry fighting vehicles on both sides of the tank unit began to accelerate.

These tanks charged into the formation of the 1515 armed forces at a speed of 60 kilometers per hour.

The 30mm autocannon unleashes a barrage of ammunition at a rate of 330 rounds per minute, each shell easily penetrating the pickup truck's thin armor and tearing the occupants to shreds.

"Get off! Get off! Establish a defensive line!"

The rear hatch of the BMP-2 opened, and fully armed Persian Revolutionary Guard soldiers filed out. These soldiers moved with practiced tactical skill, advancing in groups of several, providing alternating cover.

Their night vision goggles provided a clear advantage at dusk—while visibility was limited in the eyes of the 1515 militants as darkness fell, the battlefield was as clear as day to the Revolutionary Guard soldiers.

"Ten o'clock, the three-person team behind the pickup truck!"

"receive."

Puff puff--

A series of shots from a silenced marksman rifle fell to the ground as three militants who had just set up their machine guns fell dead.

"Advance! Clear the entire area!"

Revolutionary Guard soldiers, like sophisticated killing machines, swiftly eliminated resistance points along the way, organized by squad and platoon.

Their teamwork was seamless, their firepower was rationally distributed, and every exchange of fire was swift and deadly.

The flank of the 1515-armed force collapsed completely within just twenty minutes.

Az finally realized what had happened.

"Persians! Those guys are the Persian Revolutionary Guard!"

He yelled hysterically into the radio, "All units on the flanks, turn north immediately! Stop them!"

But his orders were no longer being effectively communicated.

The Revolutionary Guard's electronic warfare units had activated their jamming equipment, filling the rudimentary civilian walkie-talkies and radios of the 1515 armed forces with harsh static.

To make matters worse, Az discovered that his command position had been exposed.

Four small drones hovered overhead, their cameras on the underside coldly watching everything below.

Immediately afterwards, the distinctive whistling sound of a turbine engine echoed through the sky.

Three Storm attack helicopters flew low overhead, their three 20mm cannons under the nose of the helicopters beginning to rotate.

O God—

Az only had time to let out a gasp.

Thump thump thump thump—!
20mm shells rained down at a rate of 750 rounds per minute.

When a shell hits a pickup truck, its thin armor is torn apart like paper; when it hits a human body, it can break a person in half at the waist.

The high-explosive warhead exploded on the ground, sending fragments flying in a fan shape that covered the entire area.

Az's command convoy was reduced to scrap metal within thirty seconds.

He was lucky; his personal guards tackled him to the ground immediately, saving him from the first round of gunfire.

When he struggled to his feet, what he saw was a hellish sight—

His carefully selected command team, those experienced commanders and communications experts, were now all mutilated corpses.

The vehicle was burning, and radio equipment was scattered all over the ground, some of it still crackling.

"Sir! We must evacuate!"

A soldier with a blood-covered face dragged him away.

But it's too late.

Four BTR-80 wheeled armored vehicles flanked from the flanks, their 8x8 tires kicking up high clouds of dust on the sand.

The 14.5mm heavy machine gun on the roof locked onto several guards who were trying to protect Az's retreat.

Ta-ta-ta-ta-!
The bullets tore the human body to pieces.

Az was pinned to the ground, the cold muzzle of a gun pressed against the back of his head.

He looked up and saw a Revolutionary Guard special forces soldier staring coldly at him.

The soldier was wearing an advanced FAST helmet equipped with night vision goggles, and his face was painted with camouflage paint, revealing only a pair of emotionless eyes.

In the Persian Revolutionary Guard, only one unit possessed this type of individual equipment—the Fatishin!

"Az al-Badri?"

A soldier asked in Arabic with a Persian accent.

Az wanted to spit at him, but in the end he could only nod helplessly.

"take away."

The soldier gave a concise order.

After losing its command center, the resistance of the 1515 armed forces quickly collapsed.

The Revolutionary Guard's armored units sliced ​​the originally dense pursuing formation into several pieces like a hot knife through butter.

The militants, once surrounded and cut off, either surrendered or launched desperate suicide attacks, only to be mowed down by machine guns and artillery.

By the time night had completely fallen, the battlefield had become mostly quiet.

Only sporadic gunshots continued to ring out, as Revolutionary Guard soldiers cleared out the last remaining resistance fighters.

In most areas, the fighting has ended, and the work of taking prisoners and clearing the battlefield has taken its place.

Searchlights and vehicle headlights illuminated the battlefield as if it were daytime. The air was thick with the smells of gunpowder, blood, and the acrid odor of burning diesel.

Thousands of 1515 militants knelt on the sand, hands behind their heads. Most of them were ragged and their faces were filled with terror.

Revolutionary Guard soldiers, armed and on guard, methodically escorted the prisoners in batches to the temporary prisoner-of-war camp.

On the other side of the battlefield, medics are treating the wounded.

The main casualties were our own wounded and a few valuable prisoners.

As for the ordinary 1515 wounded soldiers, they only received the most basic hemostasis and bandaging, and then they were thrown into the prisoner pile.

Armored vehicles are moving between battlefields, and engineering units are clearing roads and recovering usable equipment.

Landmines or unexploded ordnance are frequently discovered, and bomb disposal experts proceed with extreme caution to handle them.

"Reporting to the general, preliminary battle results."

A staff officer saluted Afanti, saying, "We killed about eight to nine thousand enemy soldiers, captured more than two thousand four hundred, and the rest scattered. We also seized more than two hundred vehicles of various types and countless weapons and ammunition."

Afanti stood beside his command vehicle, looking at the battlefield that had just witnessed a bloody battle, his face expressionless.

"Our losses?"

"Sixty-seven dead, one hundred and sixty-three wounded, including thirty-four seriously wounded. Two armored vehicles were lost."

This exchange ratio is terrifying.

But Afanti knew that this was not entirely because his troops were so powerful, but more because of the element of surprise and the difference in equipment. More importantly, Song Heping had been fighting this 1515 armed force of more than 20,000 men for a whole day, and the enemy was also exhausted. He had gotten a great advantage.

Moreover, this 1515 armed force was completely unprepared to deal with a regular army armored assault.

"General, Song Heping's troops are approaching," the adjutant reported.

Afanti looked up and saw a convoy approaching on the southern horizon.

Leading the way were several modified armed pickup trucks, with heavy machine guns mounted on their roofs.

In the center of the convoy, an unassuming armored off-road vehicle stood out conspicuously.

Afanti straightened his uniform and walked forward.

　Asking for a monthly ticket!

　　
　
(End of this chapter)