Chapter 1543 - 1253

The bulletproof SUV jolted wildly over the bumpy dirt road, the modified suspension system emitting a dull groan.

Sanders clenched the steering wheel tightly, his sharp gaze scanning the rear-view mirror.

In the back seat, medic "Patch" was kneeling in the cramped space, desperately pressing on the wound of a young mercenary's abdomen.

Blood kept seeping through his fingers, flowing down the anti-slip patterned floor.

"Hang in there, rookie! We're almost there!"

Sanders yelled to the back seat, his foot pressing the gas pedal a bit deeper.

In the mirror, the wreckage of the destroyed pickup burned far behind them, its thick black smoke standing like a tombstone on the wasteland—

the brutal evidence of Mans Squad's ambush half an hour ago.

By the time Sanders arrived with reinforcements, the 1515 Armed militants' attack had temporarily ended, leaving behind a scene of devastation.

The original six-member water retrieval team now had three dead, one critically injured, over half lost.

"Boss! Movement on the hillside at three o'clock!"

A hoarse warning came from the rear vehicle "Wild Bull" through the radio.

Almost at the same time as hearing the warning, Sanders' peripheral vision caught a faint glint behind the hillside to the right front.

"Those guys are still around, watch out!!"

He sharply turned the steering wheel, maneuvering the vehicle in a zigzag route.

"Da-da-da-da—!"

Scattered machine gun bullets swept in from afar, kicking up a string of dust on the dirt road to the vehicle's right.

Bullets hit the modified armored car doors, making a "bang bang" dull thud.

"Wild Bull! Suppressive fire!"

Sanders barked into the radio as the vehicle jolted hard, rolling over a shell crater.

The M2HB heavy machine gun in the rear vehicle's cargo bed instantly roared with a deep, terrifying fury.

"Dong! Dong! Dong! Dong!"

The 12.7mm large-caliber bullets, like the Grim Reaper's scythe, instantly splattered the mud and gravel along the edge of the hillside, silencing the intermittently firing PKM machine gun.

"Cleared! Seems like stragglers."

Wild Bull briefly reported.

Sanders didn't relax, his nerves taut like a drawn bowstring.

The route back to checkpoint 4 was less than five kilometers, yet it felt like a death road leading to Hell.

The 1515 militants emerged like Ghosts from every corner of the wilderness, taking a few shots and then fleeing, with a clear purpose—to delay, deplete, and prevent them from safely returning to their stronghold.

"All units, alternate cover retreat! Wild Bull, you go ahead, I'll follow behind! Maintain vehicle distance, watch for IEDs!"

Sanders issued a command, tactical gestures clearly transmitted through the vehicle communications system to the other car.

The two battle-scarred bulletproof SUVs began moving in a standard tactical formation.

Wild Bull's vehicle accelerated ahead, while Sanders slightly slowed down, with the shooter on the roof turning the M240 universal machine gun nervously, the gun barrel pointing towards potential threat areas on both sides.

A tense atmosphere filled the air.

Sanders could hear his heart pounding heavily in his chest cavity, as well as the increasingly weak groans of the wounded in the back seat.

He glanced at the GPS, noting there were only two kilometers left.

Suddenly, behind a low shrub to the front left, another figure stood up with an RPG rocket launcher!

"RPG! Left side!"

Sander's pupils constricted sharply, instinctively slamming the brakes while swerving hard right!

"Whizz—"

The rocket dragged a conspicuous trail as it whistled past the SUV's left front wheel, exploding violently not far behind, the blast wave jolting the vehicle fiercely.

"FUCK!"

The rooftop gunner "Scarecrow" cursed in anger, nearly simultaneously turning his gun as the rocket missed.

"Da-da-da-da—!"

A long string of precise shots turned the RPG gunner who hadn't yet reloaded, along with the bushes behind him, into a sieve.

"Confirmed kill!"

Scarecrow's voice trembled with survival's relief.

Sanders gasped for breath, steadying the direction once more.

"Good job."

He briefly complimented, pressing the gas pedal again.

"Last kilometer! Everyone stay alert!"

When the contour of checkpoint 4, filled with sandbags and blast-proof cages, finally appeared at the horizon, everyone silently breathed a sigh of relief.

But Sanders' heart remained unsettled.

The spotlight on the checkpoint's watchtower was already lit, scanning the deepening twilight wasteland, the sentries had already noticed the unrest outside.

Tonight was bound to be restless.

"Thunder-4, Shepherd here, requesting entry! Repeat, Shepherd requesting entry, carrying wounded!"

Sanders grabbed the radio, calling the checkpoint.

"Thunder-4 received, open the door! Quickly!"

The urgent voice of the stationed personnel came through.

The heavy steel gate slowly opened, the bulletproof SUV's tires screeched on the rough concrete ground, and Sanders had already jumped out before the vehicle fully stopped.

"Quick! We've got a critically injured person in need of immediate treatment!"

His shout echoed within the relatively enclosed courtyard.

Several waiting mercenaries and the lone team medic hurriedly carried the wounded from the car, quickly transporting them to the makeshift medical point on the ground floor of the main building.

Watching the wounded soldier being carried away, Sanders finally felt a slight release in the tension that had gripped his shoulders.

Inside the main building, under the dim emergency lights, the atmosphere was so oppressive that it was hard to breathe.

The young mercenary, who had been shot in the abdomen, was carefully placed in a relatively secure corner of the wall.

His face was as pale as paper, his breathing weak and rapid, and the thick blood-stopping bandage was almost instantly soaked by the continuously seeping blood, taking on an ominous dark red color.

The wounded soldier's consciousness was already beginning to blur, his lips murmuring inaudible words.

Sanders squatted down, checked the wound, and frowned deeply.

The situation was worse than he had imagined; the bullet might have hit the internal organs. Even though first aid was administered, it wouldn't suffice...

Surgery must be done immediately, otherwise...

He patted the cold cheek of the wounded soldier: "Hang in there, kid. The helicopter is on its way to take you home."

Saying that, he stood up and looked around.

Checkpoint 4, this outpost rebuilt from an abandoned border post, seemed like a lone boat in a raging sea at this moment.

The two-story concrete main building was the last fortress, with a fragile ring-shaped defense formed by anti-explosion cages, sandbag walls, and barbed wire around it.

"Radio operator! Bring the radio!"

Sanders shouted loudly.

"Yes, sir!"

A mercenary with a buzz cut sprinted forward with an AN/PRC-155 man-pack radio on his back.

"Connect to the Baghdad Company's duty room using the emergency channel, priority Alpha (highest)."

Sanders spoke quickly, pulling out a waterproof card with worn edges from the magazine pouch on his chest, which displayed complex identification codes and backup frequencies.

"Understood!"

The rookie squatted, placing the radio on relatively stable ground, his fingers swiftly manipulating the keyboard and knobs, producing slight clicking sounds.

Soon, the speaker of the radio emitted a static noise peculiar to encrypted signals, which then decoded into a clear, yet slightly electronically delayed female voice.

"This is Baghdad Thunder. Please state your identity and request."

The female voice was calm and professional, as if from another peaceful world, starkly contrasting the deathly atmosphere enveloping the checkpoint.

Sanders took the handset from the rookie's hand, speaking loudly: "Eagle's Nest, Eagle's Nest, this is Thunder-4 Checkpoint, codename 'Shepherd'. Identity verification code: 01TFNSW. Repeat, 01TFNSW."

After a brief pause, the faint sound of keyboard typing came from the other end of the radio.

"Verification successful. Please report the situation."

"At local time 21:45, I was ambushed 5 kilometers northwest of Checkpoint 4. Currently have one critically wounded soldier, with unstable life signs, in urgent need of medical evacuation. The condition of the wounded soldier is grave, unable to withstand the jostle of land transfer. Request immediate dispatch of a medical helicopter to my location. Coordinates: Grid 38S MB 45132 87659. Landing zone is the internal courtyard of the checkpoint, cleared and marked. Can be identified with smoke grenades or IR strobe lights. Warning: The landing zone has only light weapon defenses, area threat level... high. Repeat, threat level high."

Sanders spoke quickly, but each word was clear and distinct, ensuring the message was conveyed accurately.

"Received, Shepherd. Verifying available aerial assets. Current airspace condition is complicated, reports indicate sporadic anti-aircraft fire possibly present in that area. Can you confirm if temporary air control or enemy anti-aircraft suppression capabilities are available at your location?"

"Negative, Eagle's Nest. We lack effective anti-aircraft weapons and suppression firepower. Only light weapons and a small number of M72 LAW anti-armor rockets. Request priority dispatch, and strongly recommend that the medical helicopter be armed with escort or employ a low-altitude penetration entry method."

Sanders emphasized, needing to make sure the rear is fully aware of the extreme danger at the front.

"Understood. Coordinating 'Dagger' flight squadron, estimated time of arrival (ETA), approximately 45 minutes. Please ensure the safety of the landing zone, and be ready with signal markers. 'Dagger-21' will establish direct contact with you, frequency 122.5 MHz. Keep the communications open."

"45 minutes... received, Eagle's Nest."

Sweat beaded on Sanders's forehead.

In 45 minutes, under conditions of enemy obscurity and heavy personnel losses, anything could change in an instant.

"We will hold the landing zone. Please hurry! Repeat, please hurry!"

"Order confirmed, Shepherd. Use recognition code 'Blue 6' when 'Dagger-21' calls in. Maintain channel cleanliness. Eagle's Nest out."

The call ended, and Sanders handed the handset back to the radio operator, just about to order everyone to check ammunition, reinforce fortifications, and prepare for the helicopter's arrival when suddenly, the single soldier radio on his shoulder broke the brief silence with the urgent and tense voice of the perimeter sentry.

"Sir! We have a situation! Towards the East, approximately 150 meters, a civilian pickup truck appeared on the dirt road, Toyota Hilux, old model, moving slowly!"

Sanders's brows tightened instantly, and he immediately grabbed the single soldier radio to respond: "Forward Outpost One, describe the vehicle condition! Any observed occupants? Load condition of the vehicle?"

"The rear compartment of the vehicle is covered with dark canvas, cannot confirm the internal load! Only one driver is in the cabin, but... his movements are stiff, hardly observing the road conditions! Observing through night vision goggles, the window color is unusually dark, suspected to be armored! Feels... very suspicious, sir! Not like lost civilians!"

The sentry's voice was laced with uncontrolled tension.

Sanders's heart sank heavily.

This description was all too typical.

"Everyone take note! Non-scheduled vehicle approaching! Asymmetric threat warning! Take your positions, enter defensive posture! Forward Outpost One, continue observation, initiate 'tripwire' protocol, sharpshooter ready!"

Sanders issued orders rapidly while sprinting out of the room like a cheetah, racing up the shaky concrete stairs towards the rooftop observation platform.

The combat boots made urgent creaking sounds stepping on the stone-filled dusty stairs.

He was just about to reach the second-floor stairwell corner, without a moment to step onto the final few steps leading to the rooftop, when the single soldier radio suddenly exploded with the sentinel's near-screaming howl, filled with despair and horror:

"VBIED! It's a car bomb! He's accelerated! Charging towards us! Open fire! Open fire at will!"

It was the voice of the duty squad leader.

"Damn it!"

Sanders growled low from deep in his throat, ramming open the rusted iron door to the rooftop with his shoulder, rushing out.

Under the dim twilight, through the green-tinged vision provided by the panoramic night vision goggles, he saw the heart-pounding scene—

The pickup truck, which had been crawling before, was now roaring hysterically from the engine, spewing thick black exhaust from the tailpipe, the headlights flaring up like the fierce eyes of a wild beast, suddenly brightening, two stark white beams of light tearing through the deepening night sky.

This thing was charging headlong towards the relatively weak east wall of the checkpoint with a determined posture, at full speed!

The speed peaked in just two or three seconds!

"FUCK! Suicide truck!"

Sanders screamed as he rushed to the rooftop railing, raising his SOPMOD-M4 carbine, and pulled the trigger repeatedly targeting the windshield where the driver was located.

Bam bam bam—

Bam bam bam—

The bullet impacts sparked wildly.

"Reinforced with steel plates! SHIT!"