Go back in time and be a chaebol

Chapter 2491 Black Hawk Down (Third Update, Please Subscribe)

Taking advantage of the suppressive fire, the militants launched an attack, jumping off their pickup trucks and approaching the church with guns at their ready.

Bullets rained down on the stone wall, making clanging sounds, and stone chips kept falling.

Although their shooting was inaccurate, their numerical and firepower advantage still kept John and his men pinned down.

On the battlefield, firepower is paramount!

John lay prone on the wall, his gun spitting fire. His gaze was fixed on an armed man carrying a rocket launcher. He took a deep breath, regulated his breathing, and pulled the trigger just as the man was about to fire. The bullet struck the man precisely in the head, and the armed man fell to the ground with a thud.

"On the left! Enemies are climbing the wall!"

One of the team members shouted.

John turned his head and saw several armed men trying to climb the church wall using ladders. He immediately turned his gun and fired a burst of fire. Two bullets accurately hit two armed men in the chest. They fell off the ladder, crashed heavily to the ground, struggled a few times, and then lay still. But more armed men surged forward, charging at the church's defensive positions like madmen, disregarding their own lives.

One team member ran out of ammunition. He quickly pressed the magazine release button, the empty magazine fell out, and then pulled a new magazine from his tactical vest, inserted it into the rifle, pulled the bolt to chamber a round, and continued firing. The entire action was completed in less than two seconds. Another team member switched to burst fire mode, aiming each bullet at a single militant with extremely high efficiency, killing more than ten enemies in just a few minutes.

The battle was exceptionally fierce. Although the SAS members were all brave and skilled in combat and had accurate shooting, they gradually found themselves struggling against the militants' human wave tactics. Moreover, the militants even set up mortars. Although they were only 60mm mortars, when the shells fell like raindrops, even the rigorously trained SAS elites could only lie there cursing.

John's arm was grazed by shrapnel, and blood dripped down his arm and onto his gun, but he paid no heed and continued firing and giving orders. He glanced at his watch; the helicopter wouldn't arrive for another two minutes, and the number of armed men in front of him was increasing. Some of them had already broken through the outer defenses and rushed to the church entrance.

"Hold the gate! Don't let them in!" John roared, getting up and kicking a gunman who rushed into the church to the ground, while pulling the trigger. The bullet pierced the man's skull.

Just then, the sound of helicopter engines came from the sky. John was overjoyed and looked up to see three Black Hawk helicopters rapidly approaching, their Gatling guns in the pods on either side of the fuselage already aimed at the militants on the ground.

A hail of bullets rained down, felling the militants on the ground in a chorus of screams. Pickup trucks were hit and burst into flames; simultaneously, 70mm rockets were unleashed, creating a series of explosions. Seeing the situation was hopeless, the remaining militants abandoned their weapons and fled in panic.

At the same time, a helicopter landed smoothly in the open space in front of the church. John signaled to his team to escort Haberstam to the helicopter, while he and a few other team members brought up the rear to cover his boarding.

After one helicopter took off, another quickly landed, and the team members boarded one after another. John was the last to board helicopter number one. As soon as he boarded, the helicopter took off again, the engine roaring, and flew into the distance.

As the helicopter ascended, John sat by the cabin door and looked back. The church in the valley was engulfed in flames, the bodies of militants and burning pickup trucks were scattered everywhere, and smoke lingered in the air above the valley for a long time. He breathed a sigh of relief, his tense nerves finally relaxing. Only then did he feel the stinging pain from the wound on his arm.

Halberstam sat beside John, holding his hand tightly, his voice still slightly choked:

"Thank you, thank you for saving me. If it weren't for you, I'm afraid I would be dead."

John patted him on the shoulder, his tone calm but firm:
“Mr. Halberstam, it’s our duty. You’re safe now, and you’ll soon be able to go home and reunite with your family.”

Although it was a bit dangerous, no one was killed, which is undoubtedly a good thing!
The helicopter's rotors sliced ​​through the night sky, carrying the rescued hostages and exhausted but victorious SAS team members, flying into the distance. The night remained thick over the mountains of northern Lebanon.

Inside the cabin, some team members were resting in their seats, while others were tending to their wounds. No one spoke, but the exhaustion of the battle was evident in everyone's eyes.

Now, after a fierce battle, all they want to do is return to base, take a good shower, and get some sleep.

The helicopter convoy flew south along the evacuation route—crossing the valley ahead, another fifty kilometers would take them to the base. It was only a few tens of minutes, and the atmosphere in the cabin was relaxed. Halberstam, a former journalist, was already chatting with the team members, saying that when he returned to New York, he would not only write about his experience, but they would be the protagonists of that story.

These elite special forces members were filled with anticipation for this, after all, they too longed for fame.

Listening to his teammates chatting away, John, who was also in a relaxed mood, perhaps instinctively looked up at the valley.
There was no movement in the dark forest; perhaps I was just overthinking it.

Meanwhile, in the mountaintop forest, Hassan stared at the helicopter overhead, his eyes burning with hatred.

"Those damn Kafis..."

He then personally carried the RPG rocket; they had all learned how to use RPG-class rockets to shoot down helicopters in the training camp.

Although the accuracy is not high, as long as there are enough of them, they will definitely hit the target. This is a tactic taught by Vietnamese instructors, who, while in Vietnam, repeatedly shot down American aircraft with RPG rockets.

Suddenly, dozens of fleeting points of light appeared in the pitch-black forest.

That's not starlight, it's probably the flame from a missile launch!

It's not a missile!

It's an RPG rocket!
Not just one, but dozens!
Dozens of RPG rockets, trailing orange-red flames, shot out of the forest like countless venomous snakes lunging at the helicopter in the air.

The pilot of the first helicopter roared and slammed the control stick, causing the helicopter to tilt instantly, its wing almost scraping the right-side rock face. A rocket whistled past below the cabin, exploding in a burst of fire in the distant valley.

"Damn it, we've been ambushed..."

John clung tightly to the hatch handle to avoid being thrown out. He looked down and saw dozens of militants emerging from the forest, carrying RPG-7 rocket launchers and firing wildly into the air.

The RPG-7's flight speed was only 290 meters per second, and its accuracy in firing at aerial targets was not high. However, when dozens of rockets were launched simultaneously, weaving a dense net of fire in the air, any attempt at evasion seemed futile. John witnessed a rocket accurately hit the tail rotor of the second helicopter, instantly shattering it. The helicopter, like a kite with a broken string, spun and plummeted downwards. The sparks from the collision of the fuselage with the rock wall drew a tragic arc in the night before finally crashing into the valley with a deafening roar.

"Unit 2 has crashed! Repeat, Unit 2 has crashed!"

The co-pilot's final scream came through the communication channel, then was drowned out by a burst of static.

At this point, there was no time for grief—more rockets were approaching. The left side of the fuselage of aircraft number three was grazed by a rocket, and more militants surged up. They lay behind rocks, using the terrain for cover, and kept firing rockets into the air.

The RPG rockets in the air were like fireworks, dancing in the air and leaving fiery red trails. The two helicopters were like dancers in a net of fire, trying to avoid them, but there was no way to escape. Finally, the third helicopter, its tail section hit, was being piloted by its pilot as it struggled to make an emergency landing.
Just as aircraft number three was swaying and making an emergency landing on the open ground to its right, an even more terrifying sound suddenly erupted from the forest atop the mountain—the roar of a 14.5mm anti-aircraft machine gun, followed immediately by the firing of a 12.7mm machine gun. Dozens of dense red bullet tracks, like red whips, traced paths through the air, ultimately lashing out at aircraft number one in mid-air. John could even hear the incessant clanging of metal against metal, like the death knell of the Grim Reaper.

"The cabin has been hit! The hydraulic system has failed!"

Cold sweat beaded on the pilot's forehead, the control stick grew heavier and heavier, and he shouted:
"We must also make an emergency landing!"

"Find the nearest valley platform!"

John stared intently ahead, then turned to Halberstam and yanked him up:

"Hold on tight to me, no matter what happens, don't let go!"

The helicopter began to plummet rapidly. With a loud bang, the landing gear slammed heavily onto the platform, the fuselage bounced violently, and then slid forward until it came to a stop after hitting a huge rock.

"Quickly! Get out of the cabin!"

John pushed open the hatch and dragged Halberstam out. As soon as they landed, he heard a "click" behind him; the helicopter's engine had completely shut down, though the propeller was still slowly spinning.

The team members followed closely behind and quickly established a defensive perimeter.

John looked around and, after determining their location, gave the following command:

"Everyone, check your equipment! Report on casualties!"

At the same time, he shouted into the communicator, quickly checked his weapons, and inquired about the situation of the other two squads, who were not far apart.

"No casualties among the crew of Unit 1; two crew members sustained minor injuries!"

"Three people on Unit 3 sustained minor injuries, and one person was shot in the leg and is unable to move!"

……

(End of this chapter)