Chapter 1454 - 1207: The Four-Hour Miracle

The gunfire also dwindled in the last few buildings resisting in the west of the city.

The highest commander of the 1515 armed forces in Daguge City— a big bearded man named Abu Omar was at this moment cowering in the basement of a building, listening to the increasingly close firefight and explosions outside, his face drained of color, leaving only a deathly gray.

The street outside was scattered with his people lying around, few of whom could still breathe.

Escape route?

Already sealed off by artillery fire.

Reinforcements?

Titrick's side hadn't even uttered a peep.

The radio contact earlier mentioned that the government army from Ozham was also launching large-scale shelling, seemingly poised for an offensive.

Meanwhile, the headquarters from Siria replied that reinforcements had been dispatched, but when approaching the border, they encountered fierce airstrikes from the US Air Force, unable to cross the border to reach Northwest Illiguo, telling Omar to hold on as reinforcements would surely arrive...

Surely arrive...

Haha.

It's simply coaxing a three-year-old child!

The situation over in Siria isn't very good either.

Since dawn, the Russian Army's Air Force has been repeatedly bombing the direction of the 1515 armed forces in Siria, Deir ez-Zor, with almost the entire Eastern Syria under a fierce attack by the government army and Wagner mercenaries...

Omar, blind, eats dumplings—he knows it in his heart.

It appears that this attack is fundamentally different from the past.

The offensive encountered is merely a part of a gigantic action plan.

What makes his liver tremble even more—the US Army actually cooperates with those militias to attack Dagula!

This is the most devastating news for Omar.

Before, the militia organization in the northwest, the Illiguo government army, and the US Army couldn't see eye to eye at all.

Now, not only have these previously unrelated armed forces joined forces into a single entity to exert force on 1515, but even the Russian Army from Siria seems to have joined in...

Careful thinking makes one extremely frightened!

This means the Americans, Russians, Kurd people, Persians, Illiguo local armed militias, and mercenary organizations...

These guys have united to annihilate the 1515 armed forces...

Allah...

Omar silently let out a powerless howl in his heart.

Ominous premonitions are like clouds drifting over the horizon, enveloping him in darkness with no trace of hope...

The last bit of his combat-ready troops rushed out, without even hearing a sound, they all perished on that open ground outside the city.

"It's over... all over..."

He murmured, his throat terribly hoarse.

The few loyal followers beside him stared at him, clutching guns in their hands, but the deadly glint in their eyes had faded, leaving only a blank waiting to die.

Omar gasped heavily, suddenly raised his head, with the last glimmer of struggle flashing in his turbid eyes, he trembled: "Go… get a piece of white cloth… wave it outside… we… surrender."

His men were stunned.

Surrender?

This group of people who usually keep "martyrdom" on the tip of their tongue, ready to perish together with people at any time, never thought this word would come out of their leader's mouth.

But seeing Omar utterly collapsed, and the overwhelming enemy outside, the instinct to survive ultimately overcame the futile fanaticism.

A younger armed member tremblingly pulled a relatively clean rag off a nearby corpse, found a broken mop stick, and clumsily tied it together, fashioning a makeshift, pitifully shabby white flag.

He held this thing, shakily walked to the entrance of the basement, went to the ground, and arrived at the building's door, extending the white flag outside, then with all his strength he waved it, and in trembling Arabic shouted: "Don't shoot! We surrender! We've surrendered!"

Not far away, a squad leader from the "Musician" camp was leading people to clear this area, seeing that wobbling piece of white cloth, he paused for a moment, then hoarsely yelled in the communication: "Cease fire! Cease fire! Something's happening! Second team, keep an eye, watch out for fake surrender!"

The gunfire ceased.

A few soldiers, relying on the cover, pointed their gun muzzles firmly at the young armed member holding up the white flag.

"Raise your hands! Let me see your hands! And then walk out!"

The squad leader gestured, making him walk out slowly.

The young man crawled out as he trembled, his face pale, muttering "Surrender" over and over.

The squad leader instructed men to hold him down and search his body, confirming no weapons, he roughly asked: "How many people are inside?"

"In… in… there are a dozen more… all out of bullets… really out…"

The young 1515 armed forces member stuttered.

"Is your commander inside?!"

"Yes… Our leader… Omar told me to come out and surrender… they want to surrender too…"

Upon hearing this, the squad leader spat on the ground, immediately reporting on the channel: "Command, there's an enemy waving a white flag in sector C, claiming leader Abu Omar might be inside, stating they want to surrender. Requesting instructions."

When the message reached Song Heping, he was watching the situation map of the entire Daguk.

Upon hearing "Abu Omar surrendering," not a ripple crossed his face, he simply replied into the microphone: "Handle according to standard procedures. Disarm, verify identity. If confirmed as Abu Omar, isolate and hold."

Soon after orders were given, Abu Omar and his last dozen remnant soldiers, with raised hands, grim-faced and sulfurous, filed out from the basement, were pressed down by soldiers like wolves, being thoroughly bound.

This guy was quite renowned in Northwest Illiguo, considered the backbone of 1515, in the past two years he was unbeaten against militias and government armies, so he was appointed to guard the northern gateway of Dagula.

Now this once arrogant extremist leader hangs his head amidst the captive crowd, lacking the courage to meet anyone's eyes.

Highest commander surrendered, nerves severed.

Omar was pressed by a mercenary from "Musician" defense with a gun against his head to broadcast the order to surrender collectively over the radio…

Half an hour later, the last few sporadic gunshots in Daguk City fell completely silent, leaving the whole city in eerie stillness, unnervingly quiet.

News of the completion of the first phase of Operation "Furnace" came, yet the command channel fell silent, with only this recently battered city silently smoldering.

Eight o'clock in the morning.

Baghdad, US Joint Command Headquarters.

On the giant electronic sandbox, the glaring red dot representing Daguk shifted to blue.

A room full of senior officers and intelligence officers stared at the newly decrypted battle report on the main screen, not a single word uttered.

"Verified? Really under four hours? Only lost less than two hundred of our own?"

An Air Force officer took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes vigorously, "They fought against over fifteen hundred desperate men defending the city! And with heavy weapons! This… is this scientifically possible?"

Colonel Kote stood at the back of the crowd, the coffee cup in his hand long cold.

His mind flashed to the previous meeting with Song Heping, full of the smell of gunpowder.

At that time, he even doubted if any officer from the PLA with such a low rank had the ability to command large troop formations?

After reaching cooperation terms, he was even maliciously hoping to see the collaboration between the White House and Song Heping turn into a mess like burnt pumpkin pie.

But now, this battle report slapped him hard across the face like a big slap.

Four hours to take the strategic town Dagula.

This surely wasn't luck.

"Everyone."

A Lieutenant Colonel responsible for analyzing battlefield imagery spoke dryly, switching the screen to an overhead view outside Daguk City.

"According to the last data returned by 'Global Hawk' and KH-11… Dagula can basically be considered 'cleared' cleanly. Look at this artillery coverage, then at these airstrike points, targeting the crucial spot, destruction rate nearing one hundred percent… Since when did these militias become so formidable?"

An intelligence analyst beside him said: "Supposedly, the 'Liberation Forces' militia has a secret base on the Persian Plateau where they've trained for a year, the base owner is Song Heping. Plus, the first to breach the urban area were two mercenary units at battalion level specifically transferred from Africa by Song Heping, from UAV footage, the combat strength is indeed formidable…"

A collective intake of breath was heard in the command room.

Kote slammed the coffee cup hard onto the console.

"Send a congratulatory message to Song Heping."

He instructed the communications officer, "Meanwhile, command all reconnaissance units to refocus south, keeping a close eye on the Hulmatu to Titrick line. I want to know what those 1515 bastards plan to do next."

He lowered his voice a bit, "Also, elevate the surveillance level on Song Heping and his core team to the highest. I want to know what his next move is, even if he farts, I want to smell it."