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Chapter 284 All-Airspace Unmanned Combat Support Platform! (Second Update!)
"No!" Omar decisively shook his head in refusal, and then, under the gaze of the two, pointed to his chest with his right index finger:
"I am Iranian too!"

"And strictly speaking, I am your student."

"So, I can actually guess what Iran's top leaders are thinking about every day."

"That's precisely why I don't want to go back!"

"It's been over 30 years since 1979!"

"In the past 30 years, we haven't had much time for development. Apart from the war with Iraq, we've been fighting against ourselves."

"Smash the right brain with the left brain!"

"Under these circumstances, General Mehrabad, tell me, what use would I be if I went back?"

The objective statement, coupled with a series of questions, caused Mehrabad to slowly close his eyes. He sighed helplessly and then whispered:
"Omar, what if I insist on taking him back?"

Omar pointed to the door and said, "Go ahead!"

As he moved, Mohrabad and his companion noticed that the area outside the tent was already crowded with people.

These people were not gathered haphazardly, but stood on both sides of the road, with the shorter ones in front and the taller ones behind, forming a neat line.

Looking at these people, Mohrabad decisively turned around and walked towards them.

Standing before these people, he patted his chest forcefully and said loudly:

"I am Mohrabad, the commander of the Revolutionary Guard!"

"Now, those who are willing to return to Iran with me, step forward, and I will take you back to Iran."

"Reorganizing the new Hezbollah brigade will also elevate you to higher positions."

"Everyone, don't miss this opportunity!" After shouting, Mohrabad took half a step back, giving up the position in front of him.

Then they waited with great anticipation for someone in the crowd to step forward.

But no one stepped forward.

These people stared at Mohrabad with wide eyes, without saying a word, as if they could see right through him.

After feeling the gazes of these people for a moment, Mohrabad gently shook his head and turned to walk towards Omar:

“Omar, since you have already made your decision, I can’t interfere any further.”

"All I want to say is that Iran will always be a place for you to stay."

"If you can't make it here, you can take your people back to Iran at any time."

After saying what he wanted to say, Mohrabad turned to look at the people outside the tent, his gaze sweeping over them one by one, as if trying to remember them.

After spending two or three minutes looking at everyone present, Mohrabad, along with Abuyek, joined their security personnel and disappeared without a trace.

As soon as they left, Radria emerged from the crowd, turning back several times as she approached Omar:

"When they came to take you back, didn't they think of giving you anything?"

Omar didn't rush to answer; instead, he waved to the crowd standing outside the door and gave them a reassuring look.

The crowd received the signal and dispersed.

Within minutes, these people had vanished without a trace.

Only then did Omar finally raise his head and look at his partner:
"Do they have anything they can give?"

"If they had something to give, they wouldn't have to fight each other's ideas and keep changing their minds, ultimately digging their own grave."

"By the way, is there any progress on the intelligence I asked you to gather about Deir ez-Zor province?"

Mentioning intelligence, Radria quickly pulled open his clothes, took out a hard drive from his pocket, placed it on the table, and tapped it with his fingers as he said:

"There's no important information."

"The ISI, Türkiye, Kurds, Americans, and local Syrians all have their eyes on that land in the northeast."

"These guys are fighting fiercely inside right now."

"You hit me, I hit you, we hit each other until we couldn't tell each other apart, it was a complete mess."

"But the casualties were not serious."

"They could even fight each other in the morning, rest at the same time at noon, eat lunch prepared by the same person, and then continue fighting in the afternoon."

"Under this premise, I do not recommend that our people enter the battlefield."

Omar listened to Radria's suggestion, then shook his head and said, "It's not up to us!"

"We now need to prove ourselves to the Syrians and the Russians."

"Our Hezbollah brigade is capable of fighting, not only because of Iran, but also because of ourselves."

"Let's go!"

"Call the others in, I need to assign the combat mission!"

Radria turned and left, and within minutes he brought in eight people. These eight people stood next to the map, like guardian deities.

After tracing the map for a long time, Omar finally stopped at the intersection of the M20, Highway 7, and Highway 4:

"This is the center of the entire Deir ez-Zor province."

"To the southwest, you can go to Damascus; to the southeast, you can go to Iraq; to the northwest, you can go to Aleppo and Turkey; and to the northeast, you can go to the most important grain-producing region."

Listening to his explanation, the people present were all excited and turned their eyes to the spot he was pointing to.

This is a strategic stronghold.

Given its strategic importance, countless people would fight for control of this place during a war.

All they need to do is get in early, lie in ambush, and then they can ambush the others.

Perfect?

However, unlike their excitement, Omar's expression remained indifferent.

After the group's excitement subsided, he said calmly, "I don't plan to attack here!"

As he spoke, he slid his finger upwards, pointing to the housing area northwest of the three-way intersection.

That location has a unique marker on the map.

The sign of a mosque.

Below this mark, there is a string of numbers.

574.

This number represents the altitude.

The location of this mosque is the only high point in this large flat area.

If we take this place, or rather, hold it, we can have a commanding position to attack all the surrounding targets.

Having understood the significance of Omar's finger placement, Radria lightly licked her lips and shook her head.

"Whether we can take this place is questionable."

"But whether it's easy to defend once it's been captured is another matter entirely!"

"This is the only high point near the city, so whether it's America or those terrorists, they'll definitely bring heavy artillery."

“Especially America, they can call in air support directly.”

"With air support, taking down a place like this would be a piece of cake."

"That's why I don't recommend attacking here!"

After stating his decision, Radria looked up, wanting to see Omar's reaction.

Omar stood there, his face hidden beneath his beard, a mixture of astonishment, surprise, and delight.

His gaze locked onto Radria, and after a moment, he gently shook his head:

"You think too much!"

“That’s the only high point nearby, overlooking the entire city. If there were a cannon there, it could directly bombard the Iraqis, Russians, and Syrians.” “I’m not blind. I can naturally see the purpose of that spot.”

"I chose this spot because I wanted to use it to encircle and ambush reinforcements!"

Radria stopped in her tracks, turned her head, and looked at the person who had spoken with an incredulous expression.

Surround the spot for reinforcements.

That's a good approach.

He returned to the map, pressed his finger on the location of the mosque on the map, and then tapped the map with his finger:
"Yes, we can besiege the enemy's stronghold and attack their reinforcements."

"Without air support, whichever faction holds this position will be doomed."

"I'll arrange it here—"

…………

Deir ez-Zor province is a province that stretches along the Euphrates River.

The main city is Deir ez-Zor.

In the southwest of the city, a small battle is taking place over the only mosque in sight.

"I am Batman. Repeat, I am Batman!"

"We are located southwest of Deir ez-Zor, and we need fire support now."

"Remember, people with green smoke above their heads are terrorists."

After yelling into the phone, Captain Ben of the 13th Marine Infantry Platoon, America, put down the phone, turned around, and peered out from behind the bunker, using binoculars to observe the situation in the distance through the gaps in the bunker.

They are in high positions and have a full understanding of what is happening below.

After staring into the distance for a while, he put away his binoculars and gun, leaned against the wall, and began to breathe deeply.
"Fire support will arrive in about 15 minutes. I don't know if those guys will still be there in 15 minutes."

"Be content!" The second-in-command, Joa, also crouched in the corner, peeking through a crack at the distant battlefield.

The people fighting in the distance are ISI and Syrian opposition forces.

The two sides fought back and forth, but there were no casualties, which gave Qiao Ya a headache.

After looking at it for a while, he focused his gaze on the watch on his left wrist. Only then did he realize that about three minutes had passed since the time he had set.

It will take the Air Force more than ten minutes to arrive!

I'm so tired, I don't want to talk!
Qiao Ya rubbed her forehead and continued to lie there to rest, while observing the sky.

After looking up for what felt like the umpteenth time, something familiar finally appeared in the southeastern sky.

B1B bomber.

Upon seeing this, Ben immediately fired the flare he had prepared earlier at the two groups that were attacking each other.

When the signal flare hit the ground, it first emitted a pale white light, followed by a thick plume of green smoke rising into the air.

The smoke was particularly noticeable against the clear sky.

Even from tens of kilometers away, you can easily see this thing.

The bombers in the air received the signal, adjusted their positions, formed a standard triangular formation, adjusted their dive angles, and began to dive.

Diving to the bombing point, the lancer's cockpit opened, and the bombs inside rained down on the positions that had been under constant surveillance, as if they were free.

Boom boom boom!

A series of explosions rang out, and in just a few seconds, the street where the two sides were fighting for control was blasted into a flat wasteland.

The smoke and dust from the explosion continued to build, making it impossible to see clearly what was happening inside.

According to normal operational procedures, this group of people needs to assess the casualties at the scene before they can continue.

However, the fighting on site continued.

The six-man Marine Corps squad quickly took a few photos before moving on to the next location and then withdrawing.

They left the scene unharmed, found their hidden car, checked it, and found that no one had tampered with it. Only then did they get in the car and start it.

They marched towards the borders of Iraq and Syria.

Meanwhile, at the America temporary outpost camp on the Iraqi-Syrian border.

The Marine Corps' on-site commander was gesturing wildly in front of the person in charge of the forward camp:

"Contact the Air Force and tell them that future fire support time must be reduced to less than 5 minutes."

"You can do a lot in 5 minutes!"

"That's enough for someone to run away!"

"Therefore, the time must be compressed to within 5 minutes."

Faced with his outrageous request, the outpost camp leader raised his right hand and tapped his ear with the tip of his little finger.

Then he snapped his fingers and said, "No chance, unless headquarters deploys drones to the front lines."

"But the incident that caused such a stir a couple of days ago has made all the manufacturers capable of making drones go into hiding."

"Right now... all I can do is make a phone call for you!"

"There's nothing else we can do to help!"

Upon hearing this, the Marine Corps commander extended his hand to the camp leader:
"Give me the contact information of the person in charge, I'll ask them for it myself!"

…………

Construction site of the Ramadi outpost camp.

Eisent was lounging on the sofa, enjoying the air conditioning and drinking coffee, living a very comfortable life.

But just then, the phone on his desk rang.

It's a number from Qatar.

He answered the phone with a mixture of doubt and curiosity.

The next second, a slightly familiar yet unfamiliar voice rang in his ear:
"My dear Mr. Eisent, would you be interested in upgrading our weapons and equipment?"

This is the voice of Benjamin Mahan, commander of the Central Theater Command.

With a gulp, Eisent swallowed the coffee in his throat, quickly stood up, and shouted into the phone with great enthusiasm:

"General, what are your orders?"

The strong, resonant voice on the other end of the phone made the person on the other end chuckle.

Amidst the laughter, Benjamin's instructions arrived as promised:

"The plan you gave last time was very good and deserves recognition."

"I called you just to ask if you'd be interested in developing an all-airspace unmanned combat support platform!"

A standard sentence with varying lengths, containing a long noun pieced together from various other elements.

Rolling his eyes, Ben repeatedly translated the pieced-together idioms to make sure the other party meant no harm before quietly asking into the phone:

"that……"

"What exactly is this so-called all-airspace unmanned combat support platform?"

"This looks familiar!"

After hearing what he said, Benjamin's voice came through the phone again:
"Drone, understand?"

"The plan you gave us last time was a bit far-fetched, but it was actually very feasible. Experts in Nevada have confirmed it repeatedly."

"They say this thing works!"

"I've come across a way to make money, and I'd like to ask you if you're interested!"

"I think I can make a lot of money!"

(End of this chapter)