Mercenary I am the king

Chapter 1298 Infiltration and Counterattack

Titrick Front, 9:30 a.m.

The sandstorm remains fierce.

With visibility less than five meters, the gale was whipping up not fine sand, but small pebbles that were hitting the armor plates with a dense popping sound.

The "Old Market District" in the north of the city is a platoon-level position of the Kold's armed forces.

Sergeant Khalid covered his mouth and nose tightly with his scarf, but the sand still managed to get into his eyes, nose, and ears. He squinted ahead and could only see a swirling, dim yellow light.

The radio had long since failed, and the company commander's last order was "Hold the position," after which communication was cut off.

"Is anyone there?" he shouted to his side, but his voice was immediately swallowed by the wind.

Suddenly, an explosion came from the left front—

That's not a cannonball, it sounds like a hand grenade!

Then came the sound of automatic rifle fire, so close it was frightening.

Khalid instinctively lay down and blindly fired his gun in the direction of the sound.

The muzzle flash was just a faint point of light that flashed by in the sandstorm.

"They're coming up!" someone screamed.

A dark figure burst out from the sand curtain, the closest one being only three steps away from Khalid.

It was a man with a full beard, whose eyes shone brightly against his dust-covered face. He was shouting something, and his AK-74M spat out flames.

Khalid pulled the trigger, and the bullet hit the man in the chest, but the man threw a grenade before falling.

The blast wave knocked Khalid over.

His ears were ringing, and the world blurred into slow motion. He saw more shadowy figures surging in from all directions, saw his soldiers fall one by one in close-quarters combat, and saw people turn to run away only to be shot down from behind.

"Retreat! Retreat!"

Khalid roared, but he couldn't even hear his own voice.

The position collapsed.

The surviving Kold soldiers fled backwards like a flock of frightened sheep, completely disoriented in the sandstorm.

They crashed into abandoned buildings and stepped on improvised explosive devices; they ran into narrow alleys and were ambushed by crossfire; they even strayed into friendly fire and were mowed down by their own machine guns.

This is not a battle; it is a one-sided massacre.

Compared to the Kold's forces' defenses, Thunder Defense's positions were in slightly better shape.

Charlie's company held a position in a three-story concrete building, with all the windows blocked with sandbags, leaving only firing ports.

Commander Lieutenant Harris wore tactical goggles integrated with thermal imaging, and the world before him turned into varying shades of green.

"Four heat sources at ten o'clock, fifty meters away." His voice was transmitted to each floor through the wired communication system. "Machine gun team, suppress."

The M240B general-purpose machine gun on the rooftop began firing in bursts, the 7.62mm bullets penetrating the sand curtain and dispersing the heat sources that were trying to approach the building.

But soon, RPG rockets came from the side. Although most of them missed due to the shooter's obstructed vision, one of them hit the corner of the second-floor wall and blasted a large hole.

"Damn it, why do they have so many RPGs?" the deputy platoon leader cursed.

Harris did not answer.

He knew why—the sandstorm rendered the coalition's air superiority and artillery observation ineffective, allowing the enemy to boldly advance their anti-tank teams to extremely close range.

The modified pickup trucks known as "sandstorm ghosts" are even more unscrupulous. They take advantage of low visibility to quickly maneuver to firing positions, fire a few mortar or rocket rounds, and then run away, leaving no time to react.

"Company commander, the third platoon reports that there are a lot of heat sources on their flank, suspected to be an enemy infiltration unit!" the communications soldier shouted.

Harris's heart sank.

The fact that the enemy has infiltrated behind the defensive line means that, under the cover of the sandstorm, they have figured out the weaknesses in their defenses.

This battle is heading in the worst possible direction.

The "outpost" command center, 10:00 AM.

Colonel Kurt received the worst battle report since the start of the war.

"Kold's 3rd Battalion's defenses have completely collapsed, the battalion headquarters has lost contact, and the fleeing soldiers are attacking the second-line positions!"

"Charlie's heavy machine gun position has been destroyed, and all members have been killed!"

"A logistics convoy got lost in a sandstorm, strayed into enemy-controlled territory, and was ambushed. Of the twelve trucks, only three escaped!"

Each message felt like a hammer blow to Kurt's chest.

He felt short of breath, as if the air in the command center was being sucked out.

On the screen, the blue markers representing the coalition's defensive line are flashing, receding, and even disappearing in large areas.

"Order all units to consolidate their defensive lines and abandon the salient."

Kort's voice was hoarse. "The artillery is firing at the main approach route. Tell the Kolds that if they retreat any further, they'll be eating sand in the desert!"

But he knew that only heaven knew how effective this order would be in the sandstorm. Once panic spread, discipline would crumble.

All he can rely on now are the well-trained mercenaries of Thunder Defense.

"Sir, the 'Sentinel' early warning aircraft reports that the sandstorm will begin to weaken in two hours," the intelligence officer said.

"Two hours..."

Kurt repeated bitterly. Two hours was enough for the enemy to tear countless holes in his lines, enough for his troops to suffer unbearable losses.

Even God isn't on my side.

For the first time, Kurt began to doubt his own confidence.

The sandstorm gradually weakened around 2 p.m.

Visibility has recovered to about 100 meters, the sky is still a murky yellow, but the wind has subsided considerably.

The Allied soldiers peeked out from their bunkers and were met with a scene of utter devastation...

Corpses and equipment wreckage were scattered along the front lines, some vehicles were still burning, and black smoke twisted and rose into the dim sky. The process of taking stock of the losses was slow and painful.

The Kold's forces suffered over 1,100 casualties and missing persons, equivalent to the loss of an entire regiment of combat soldiers.

The most fatal thing was the collapse of morale.

Many soldiers refused to return to the front lines, while officers blamed and shifted responsibility among themselves.

Thunder Defense lost 23 experienced mercenaries and 41 were wounded, half of whom were seriously injured.

The loss of technical equipment is even more difficult to quantify—precision observation and aiming equipment was damaged by sand, communication equipment malfunctioned, and two helicopters were severely damaged and required major repairs.

Kurt convened an emergency commanders' meeting.

The meeting was held in an underground bunker, where the atmosphere was so oppressive that it was difficult to even breathe.

One of Kold's senior officers was extremely agitated: "My soldiers are not machines! They can't see anything in the sandstorm, but the enemy seems to have emerged from the ground! We need rest, we need reinforcements, otherwise there will be no one to hold the position tomorrow!"

Another leader of the Kold faction subtly suggested that other fronts also needed manpower, implying that Titrick should not become a bottomless pit.

The company commanders of Thunder Defense were relatively restrained, but the dissatisfaction in their eyes was obvious.

They're here to make money, not to fill in the gaps.

As Kurt listened to these remarks, the string of "retreat" in his heart was stretched tighter and tighter.

The initial plan—to quickly take over Titrick by leveraging information superiority—now seems to have completely failed.

The battle devolved into a city-wide war of attrition, the last thing he wanted to see, and the enemy's resilience and resupply capabilities far exceeded his expectations.

But he couldn't just give up like that.

He needs to give an explanation to the Pentagon, renew his contract with Thunder Defense, and also needs a "decent ending" to his own career.

"We need a counterattack."

Kurt concluded, his voice echoing through the bunker, "A limited but powerful counterattack to destroy the enemy's most critical stronghold, improve our defensive posture, and then... assess the follow-up actions."

He marked two locations on the map: the auto repair shop in the north of the city and the school complex on the west side.

These two outposts were like malignant tumors stuck to the coalition lines, and the mortars and snipers inside continued to cause casualties.

"Before dawn tomorrow, the Thunder's 'Alpha' and 'Bravo' teams, with their main forces supported by the strongest firepower, will remove these two thorns in our side. Operation codename 'Dawn Hammer'."

When he said this, he deliberately ignored several facts—the reason why these two strongholds were difficult to attack was because they were traps in themselves.

Ahmed may be waiting to deploy his final reserves and to see if the forces are still capable of carrying out such a complex coordinated attack after the devastating sandstorm defeat.

The meeting ended in a dull atmosphere.

Each commander left with their own thoughts; no one had much confidence in "Dawn Hammer," but no one openly opposed it either.

That's how war is sometimes—you know it's a foolish move, but you have to keep going for various reasons.

At the same time, at the Titrick underground command post.

Ahmed was also in a meeting, but the atmosphere was completely different.

Although the sandstorm counterattack came at a cost, with over 1,500 men killed and the infiltration team losing nearly half its strength, the results were brilliant.

The coalition lines were forced to retreat, the morale of the Kold'd forces was on the verge of collapse, and more importantly, Ahmed confirmed one thing—the coalition ground forces' combat effectiveness would be greatly reduced after losing air superiority.

"Infidels are afraid of death."

Ahmed said to the assembled leaders, “They wander around like blind men in the sandstorm, but our warriors can find them and kill them.”

On the table lay a hand-drawn battlefield sketch, marked with the positions of the coalition forces, their firepower configurations, and even suspected command nodes.

This information came from frontline observations, radio intercepts, and certain undisclosed sources.

"Another two thousand men have come from Mosul, all of them veterans who have fought in urban warfare."

One of the leaders reported, "There are also two vehicles of anti-tank missiles and three heavy machine guns."

Ahmed nodded repeatedly as he listened.

Baghdadi personally ordered that Titrick be held at all costs, which meant a steady stream of reinforcements and supplies.

More subtly, according to some indirect signals, it seems that some “regional friends” are not happy to see the Americans and the Kolds making too rapid progress in the area, and have turned a blind eye to the supply line from Mosul to Titrick.

War is never just a matter for soldiers on the front lines.

"They suffered a loss, so they will definitely want to get back at them."

Ahmed tapped his fingers on the map at the two fortified strongholds—the auto repair shop and the school.

"Kurt is a proud man; he won't accept defeat. I guess... he'll deploy his elite troops by dawn tomorrow at the latest to remove these two thorns in our side."

A low chuckle rippled through the crowd.

The two strongholds were fortified not only because of their fortifications, but also because they served as bait.

The repair shop has an underground network of tunnels leading to nearby buildings, and tons of explosives are buried in the school complex.

Once the main force of the coalition enters, there is no need to fight them at all; what awaits them is an earth-shattering devastation.

"Get all the brothers who can still move ready."

Ahmed's eyes gleamed in the dim light. "Tomorrow at dawn, we will not only hold our ground, but we will counterattack, pursue them, and drive them out of Titrick completely!"

He paused, his voice turning icy: "Tell the 'Die-hard Squad' to get a good rest tonight. Tomorrow, they'll either return victorious or go to heaven with the glory of martyrs."

The order was relayed.

The underground command post was filled with an atmosphere that was a mixture of fervor, exhaustion, and desperation.

Everyone knows that tomorrow's battle will decide everything.

They either completely crushed the coalition forces or were completely annihilated by them.

There is no third option.

　Second update, please vote for me!

　　
　
(End of this chapter)