Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1297 Even God Isn't Helping

Inside the command center of the Baiji refinery, at 3:47 a.m.

When Song Heping, who was woken up in the middle of the night by the urge to urinate, opened the door of the tactical analysis room after using the toilet, the three main screens on the wall were flashing data streams of different frequency bands.

On the left is a meteorological satellite cloud image, in the middle is the distribution of electronic signal density in the war zone, and on the right is an overview image of drones obtained through special channels with a delay of about fifteen minutes.

Two analysts on duty were exchanging data in hushed tones.

"boss."

A young analyst from Musician Defense looked up. “The weather is changing. Thermal convection in the western desert is unusually active. Weather models predict that the Titrick region will be hit by a strong dust storm within three to four hours.”

"Sandstorm?"

Song Heping felt a slight jolt in his heart.

It seems the timing isn't working for the Americans anymore.

He quickly walked to the central screen, slid his finger across the touchpad, and overlaid the weather data with the war zone map.

A murky, yellowish band of cloud is slowly moving eastward from the heart of the desert, and its speed is increasing.

He squinted, his mind rapidly conjuring up a scene after a sandstorm had covered the battlefield—visibility reduced to zero, laser guidance failing, drones forced to be recovered, helicopters grounded, and early warning aircraft radar effectiveness drastically reduced…

"Did Kurt receive the warning?" he asked.

"The coalition weather center issued an orange alert two hours ago, but..."

The analyst paused for a moment, then said, "'Operation Balance Beam's' air assault plan is still scheduled for dawn."

Song Heping remained silent.

He walked to the window and looked southeast.

Although they were more than 100 kilometers apart, an unnatural, dim yellow hue could be vaguely seen on the horizon.

This is the glimmer of light from the vanguard of the sand wall.

"Hmph, they'll suffer a great loss," he muttered, more like stating a conclusion he had already foreseen to himself.

At the same time, at the "outpost" command center on the Titrick front.

Colonel Kurt looked at the weather report, his brow furrowed.

The dust storm warning level has been upgraded from orange to red, with maximum wind speeds expected to exceed 70 kilometers per hour and visibility potentially dropping below 20 meters.

"Sir, should the air assault plan be postponed?"

The operations staff asked cautiously.

Kurt's forehead was covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

His gaze fell on the battle map—

Those blue markers representing the Allied advance arrows had been stationary for thirty-six hours on the northern outskirts of Titrick.

During the Pentagon's video conference last night, the three-star general, though he didn't say anything harsh, clearly showed his impatience in his tone.

"Kurt, the president reviews the progress reports every week, and he hopes to see your battle report by the end of the week."

“We can’t delay.” Kurt gritted his teeth and finally said, “Tell all units to prepare according to the original plan. The sandstorm will affect us, and it will affect the enemy as well. Our equipment advantage still exists.”

When he said this, he deliberately ignored the fact that the Kold's armed forces had old equipment that was almost impossible to protect against dust, and also ignored the fact that thermal imaging and laser targeting equipment would be greatly reduced in a sandstorm.

Sometimes, the first person a commander needs to convince is himself.

The Pentagon, command center.

On the video wall, more than a dozen split screens display the situation in various hotspots around the world.

Titrick is just one of them, occupying a small area in the lower left corner of the screen.

"Kurt insisted on attacking according to the original plan."

An Air Force major general shook his head. "The meteorological department says this is the strongest dust storm in the region in five years."

“He wants to take a gamble.” The lieutenant general, seated in the center, took a sip of coffee. “If he wins, we’ll see the troops storming the city tomorrow morning. If he loses…”

"If we lose, we need a backup plan."

Another general chimed in, "We can't waste too much political capital on a city like Iligo."

Their discussion was calm and pragmatic, like they were assessing the risk-reward ratio of an investment.

The blue arrows and red defense circles on the screen are just data points and trend lines in their eyes.

As for the soldiers huddled in foxholes during the sandstorm, whether they were Kold's, Thunder mercenaries, or 1515 militants, they were just a part of the data in the eyes of these military bigwigs present.

At 5:20 a.m., the sand wall arrived.

At first, it was just a sudden increase in wind force, and then the distant horizon turned into a churning, murky yellow.

Within ten minutes, the sandstorm's leading edge engulfed the outskirts of Titrick like a tsunami. Visibility plummeted from 500 meters to 50 meters, then to less than 10 meters.

The world was reduced to the howling wind and the pounding of sand. A panicked cry came over the coalition radio: "We can't see anything! We can't see anything at all!"

An MQ-9 Reaper drone conducting forward reconnaissance suddenly lost its data link. The operator in the control center watched helplessly as the screen turned to static. The last image transmitted back was of the drone tumbling and falling in a raging storm.

"All air units, withdraw immediately!"

The air traffic controller's voice roared over the communications channel.

But it's too late.

Two AH-64 Apache helicopters, which were preparing for the dawn assault, made an emergency turn. The rotor of one of them rubbed violently against the sand during the violent turbulence, and the engine temperature alarm sounded shrilly.

The pilot managed to make an emergency landing on relatively flat ground, but the rotor blades were severely worn, and the multi-million dollar war machine was temporarily rendered scrap metal until it was repaired.

The most fatal blow was the withdrawal of the Sentinel early warning aircraft.

This early warning aircraft, which constantly hovers over the theater of operations to provide all-round battlefield awareness for the coalition forces, is in order to avoid encountering slow-moving, low-altitude threats that are difficult to detect in the sandstorm, such as those that may be carrying man-portable air defense systems.

Therefore, the Air Force had to order the early warning aircraft to retreat more than 100 kilometers to the northeast.

With its withdrawal, the coalition command system's "God's-eye view" disappeared.

Kurt stood in front of the huge screen in the "outpost" command center, watching the once vibrant and information-rich digital map turn gray piece by piece.

The blue friendly forces markers began flashing a "signal lost" warning, while the red enemy activity area became blurred due to a lack of drone reconnaissance.

"Sir, Alpha Company reports that they have lost radio contact with the two forward platoons!"

"Kold's 3rd Battalion's communications have been disrupted for more than twenty minutes!"

"The weather department has updated its forecast: the sandstorm is expected to last for six to eight hours!"

Bad news comes one after another.

Kurt felt his throat go dry.

His information-based combat system, centered on the "Sentinel" early warning aircraft, is an advantage he is proud of, but it is so vulnerable in the face of the forces of nature.

The only units he can directly command now are the few companies of Thunder Defense around him, and the artillery units that he can still contact via wired communication.

All of this was observed by Song Heping in the Baiji command center.

Baiji, 7:15 a.m.

"The sandstorm completely covered the battlefield."

The analyst pulled up the drone footage and zoomed in on the computer screen, then looked back at Song Heping and Jiang Feng.

Although the resolution was reduced due to the sandstorm, some clues could still be seen.

The reconnaissance drones that were dispatched were also severely hampered by the sandstorm.

Most of them have lost their footage, and only a small number of drones hovering low over the outer fighting zone of Titrick are still able to transmit some battlefield footage.

"The heat signatures on the coalition's forward positions are moving erratically... Here, and here, there are clear hotspots of fire."

Song Heping stared at the screen.

Images of the front lines flashed through his mind.

The soldiers huddled in their bunkers, their ears filled with the howling of the sandstorm, their eyes stinging from the sand, and only static noise coming through the radio.

The 1515 armed forces, with their rich experience in desert warfare, would never have let such an opportunity slip by unless they were incredibly foolish.

“I think… Ahmed is definitely going to make a move,” he said calmly.

As soon as he finished speaking, the heat map on the screen began to change drastically.

On the coalition lines, especially in the areas defended by the Kold's forces, dozens of small clusters of heat sources suddenly emerged from the city ruins, biting at the junctions of the coalition positions like venomous snakes.

"This Ahmed is quite clever..." Jiang Feng had to admit that there were capable people in the 1515 armed group. The extremist armed group that could rise rapidly in just a few years and take over most of northwestern Iligo was definitely not just for show. There must be some tricks up their sleeves and a few capable people.

"A typical infiltration and counterattack tactic."

Song Heping's finger traced several key breakthrough points. "Using the sandstorm as cover, small groups from multiple directions will focus on striking the coalition's command nodes and logistical lines. I reckon... Kurt should be feeling the pressure by now."

He walked to the tactics board, picked up a black marker, and drew several arrows in the north of Titrick.

“If I were Ahmed, I would set up ambush points here, here… and here. Defeated soldiers in a sandstorm are most likely to lose their way; they will stumble into the pre-designated kill zone like headless flies.”

"Should we share the analysis with the Americans...?" the analyst asked tentatively.

Song Heping shook his head: "No need. From the time the sandstorm hits to the time the enemy completes their infiltration, it will take at least forty minutes. Our data is delayed by fifteen minutes, analysis takes time, transmission takes time... By the time the warning reaches the front lines, the first wave of attacks will already be over. Besides, even if we send intelligence analysis to Kurt, would he believe it?"

He laughed as he said this.

As he watched the increasing number of firefights on the screen, Song Heping knew that his prediction was becoming a reality.

That's how war is—often you can see the outcome, but you can't change its arrival.

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(End of this chapter)