Go back in time and be a chaebol

Chapter 2492 Great Britain Turns into a Dead Eagle (First Update, Please Subscribe)
When the tail of the Black Hawk helicopter exploded in flames in the night sky, cheers erupted throughout the valley!

"They've fallen!... God help us! Catch those foreigners! Alive!"

Muhammad roared, his entire being in a state of extreme excitement. Through his binoculars, the flames of the crashed Black Hawk helicopter had stained half the valley red. He slammed the binoculars down on his deputy beside him:

"Tell everyone! Whoever catches an Englishman will be rewarded with $500 and three beautiful women!"

Just as his deputy was about to turn around, Muhammad grabbed him by the collar:
"Tell them not to shoot at vital organs! I want the coalition to watch their elites begging for mercy on television!"

Actually, that's not important. What's important is that he needs leverage. He knows very well that the coalition's attack on Lebanon is imminent, and he needs leverage to stay out of it.

One reporter is not enough.

Now that these British have come in, it's just right. If we can capture them, we can force the British to negotiate with him. He will release the hostages, but he will retain his territory and his army.

Before the words were even finished, the sound of engines roared from the distant valley—thousands of armed men, driving pickup trucks equipped with anti-aircraft machine guns, were like a pack of mad hyenas, kicking up clouds of dust as they rushed toward the crash site.

Over the past decade or so, Wuling pickup trucks have become a symbol in many hotspots because they can be used for both troop transport and weapon mounting. Wuling pickup trucks are the most popular among them because of their durability, reliability, and near-zero damage, making them highly sought after by armed groups around the world.

In Lebanon, armed pickup trucks have become a symbol of military power. The strength of a warlord is often judged by the number of armed pickup trucks he possesses.

Armored pickup trucks are most often equipped with machine guns, ranging from SG43 machine guns to PM general-purpose machine guns, and various types of anti-aircraft machine guns; they can carry everything.

The militants in the truck bed brandished rifles and RPGs, shouting slogans and occasionally firing wildly into the air, venting their fanatical emotions.

John had just secured Mark, a teammate who had been shot in the leg, to a rock when he heard the chilling roar of engines. He climbed to the edge of the platform, glanced through his binoculars, and gasped – a convoy of at least one or two hundred pickup trucks was closing in from three directions, the truck beds teeming with people like swarming ants, numbering at least a thousand.

"Attention all units, form a circular defense!"

John hissed into his throat:
"Anthony, you lead the men to guard the east flank, Charlie guards the west flank, and Mark is in charge of guarding the north flank. Use machine guns to block the mountain pass!"

The team members sprang into action, immediately setting up makeshift shelters at the landing site. Thomas dragged out the MAG machine gun from the helicopter hatch, secured the mount with an ammunition box, and aimed the muzzle at the eastern mountain pass; Miller, meanwhile, laid directional mines on the western side, pulling the fuses and attaching the wires to the rocks, so that any militants who stepped into the trigger range would be torn apart by a storm of steel balls.

John crouched down next to Mark and said to him:
"Your mission is to hold our only escape route and prevent them from cutting off our rear."

"Don't worry, boss!"

Mark nodded, cold sweat trickling down his forehead, but he gripped the machine gun handle tightly.

Meanwhile, John called for reinforcements from the base once again, while chaos reigned inside the British base.

Upon learning that the rescue team had been ambushed during its evacuation, the commander immediately dispatched a rescue force. Six Lynx helicopters carrying the support troops took off immediately. Although the performance of this helicopter was not as good as the Black Hawk, it was jointly developed by Britain and France and could be considered a British-made product.

However, they were exposed as soon as they set off. Scouts from the armed personnel near the base spotted the helicopter taking off and immediately reported it via handheld walkie-talkie.

"Boss! The British have sent reinforcements!"

An armed man on a motorcycle rushed up to Mohammed's command vehicle and shouted a report.

Muhammad looked up at the sky and said:

"Then let's bring the rabbit into our cage!"

He looked at the helicopter wreckage through his binoculars and suddenly grinned:

"Just a bunch of rabbits trapped in a cage."

He shouted the command:
"Use rocket launchers and mortars to deal with them! Don't attack without authorization!"

At Mohammed's command, ten pickup trucks rushed to the front of the convoy, and the militants in the truck beds carried RPG-7s, the exhaust flames of the rockets instantly creating a continuous trail in the valley.

"RPG!"

John yelled and lunged at Halberstam, pinning him against the crevice in the rocks, then shoved a Browning high-powered pistol into his hand, saying:

You must protect yourself!

Amid the successive explosions, these elite SAS soldiers could only try their best to keep their bodies low to the ground.

Even more deadly were the 60mm mortars. These lightweight mortars, weighing only 11 kilograms, were aid from a certain country. Although they weren't as conspicuous as RPGs, their numbers were no less than those of RPGs. Moreover, they had a high rate of fire, reaching up to 30 rounds per minute.

Unlike the Negroes in Africa who only use direct-fire RPGs, these armed men had mostly received training from foreign advisors in training camps and were extremely skilled in using mortars. The next second, mortar shells rained down like raindrops, the dense explosions shaking the mountainside, blasting a large hole in the helicopter wreckage, and sending fragments flying like knives.

Thomas's machine gun position was hit by a mortar shell, and his arm was cut by shrapnel, instantly staining his tactical uniform with blood.

"The breach is on the west side! They're charging in!"

Miller's roar came through the headset. John looked up and saw more than twenty militants, using the smoke and dust from the explosion, charging towards the western defensive line with AK-47s in hand. The moment they stepped on the directional mines, the scene of flesh and blood flying everywhere stunned those in front, but those behind immediately stepped over their comrades' corpses and continued their charge.

John grabbed three grenades, pulled the pins, and threw them one by one into the crowd. Amid the explosions, a number of the charging militants fell, but many more had already reached the cover.

"Close-quarters combat! Free fire!"

John turned and fired at an armed man charging at him. The moment the bullet struck the man's chest, he could even see the spray of blood erupting from his chest.

Halberstam, huddled in a corner with his knees drawn up, saw an armed man point a gun at John. He suddenly stood up and shot the armed man in the stomach. The armed man screamed and fell to his knees. John seized the opportunity to fire a follow-up shot, finishing him off.

"Good job!"

John shouted at Halberstam and continued fighting.

Muhammad, watching from inside the command vehicle, remained unperturbed. After observing the men who had charged forward fall, he calmly remarked:

"Fire with machine guns! Keep the mortars firing! Suppress them first!"

More than forty machine guns immediately adjusted their direction, aimed their muzzles at the British and opened fire wildly. Bullets rained down on the bunkers, and shrapnel and debris flew everywhere. Several team members were unable to dodge in time and were hit in the arms and legs. Their screams were particularly clear amidst the gunfire.

Meanwhile, mortar shells continued to rain down. Violent explosions echoed through the valley.

Although they were a highly trained elite force, they were forced to passively endure the attack when faced with such a disparity in strength.

John frowned; he knew that if things continued like this, everyone would die here.

He called for backup again.

"Headquarters! This is the Vulture Squad! We can't hold out any longer! Requesting air support! Coordinates..."

"Boss! Their reinforcements have arrived!"

The deputy, holding the walkie-talkie, shouted.

Muhammad sneered:
"Now is the perfect time..."

He picked up the walkie-talkie and shouted in Arabic:
"Let the British reinforcements into the valley, then attack the helicopters with crossfire!"

This is a trap!
However, the militants acting as bait were unaware that their attack was even more frenzied, continuing under the cover of machine guns, RPGs, and mortars.

Just when John thought it was all over, the roar of a helicopter came from the distant sky.

Reinforcements have arrived...

Hearing the familiar roar, John looked up sharply and saw four Lynx helicopters rapidly approaching, their rocket pods on either side already locked onto the militant convoy below.

"It's reinforcements! Our reinforcements have arrived!" John shouted excitedly.

The militants' convoy was thrown into chaos, pickup trucks scrambling to turn around and flee the battlefield. But the helicopter attack had already begun; rockets rained down on the convoy, blowing pickup trucks to pieces, sending flames and thick smoke billowing into the sky. Machine gun pods swept through, felling fleeing militants in droves, the valley filled with screams and explosions.

Almost instantly, the militants' attack was repelled. As the disorganized militants scattered, eight more Lynx helicopters entered the valley. As they slowed down and descended, the British soldiers on board did not notice that dozens of anti-aircraft machine guns, along with RPGs, were already aimed at them in the forests on both sides of the valley.

Suddenly, streaks of fire erupted in the tranquil valley—red tracer bullet trails formed whips in the air, these whips, like shepherd's lashes, lashed the helicopter fuselage. In the blink of an eye, a Lynx helicopter was shot down.

Meanwhile, the sky was filled with the contrails of RPG rockets, and the tracer rounds fired by the anti-aircraft machine guns left red and green trails in the air, while the RPGs produced bright fireworks.

The most dazzling fireworks were from the explosion when the helicopter was hit!

In the violent explosion, the hit helicopter burned, trailing black smoke and flames, and fell directly to the ground like a lead weight. Only then did the British realize that they had fallen into a trap.

(End of this chapter)