Chapter 1620 - 1297: Even God Won't Help

Bayji Refinery Command Center, 3:47 AM.

Song Heping, who was woken up by nature's call in the middle of the night, pushed open the door of the Tactical Analysis Room, where the three main screens on the wall flashed different bands of data streams.

The left screen showed a weather satellite cloud map, the center showed the electronic signal density distribution in the battle zone, and the right displayed a drone overview obtained through special channels with about a fifteen-minute delay.

Two on-duty analysts were quietly exchanging data.

"Boss."

A young analyst from "Musician" Defense looked up, "There's a change in the weather. Hot convection in the western desert is unusually active. The weather model predicts a severe sandstorm will hit the Tetric region in three to four hours."

"A sandstorm?"

Song Heping felt a slight shock.

It seems like even the heavens aren't on the Americans' side.

He quickly moved to the center screen, sliding his fingers over the touchpad to overlay meteorological data with the battle zone map.

A murky yellow band of cloud was slowly moving eastward from the desert interior, its speed increasing.

He squinted, quickly envisioning the scene after the sandstorm engulfed the battlefield — zero visibility, laser guidance failure, drones forced to return, helicopters grounded, and early warning radar efficiency sharply reduced…

"Did Kote's side receive the warning?" he asked.

"The Alliance Army Meteorological Center issued an orange alert two hours ago, but…"

The analyst paused, "The 'Balance Beam' operation's air assault is still scheduled for dawn."

Song Heping said nothing.

He walked to the window, gazing southeast.

Even over a hundred kilometers away, he could vaguely see an abnormal yellowish hue on the horizon.

This was the faint light of the sand wall's approach.

"Hmph, they're going to suffer a big loss," he murmured, as if stating a conclusion he'd already foreseen.

At the same time, on the Tetric front line, at the "Outpost" Command Center.

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

The sandstorm warning level had been upgraded from orange to red, with expected maximum wind speeds exceeding seventy kilometers per hour, and visibility possibly dropping to below twenty meters.

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

The operations staff officer asked cautiously.

Kote's forehead was covered in fine sweat.

His gaze fell on the operations map —

Those blue markers representing the Alliance Army's advance had already stalled in the northern suburbs of Tetric City for thirty-six hours.

During the Pentagon's video conference last night, although the three-star General didn't use harsh words, his tone was clearly impatient.

"Kote, the President expects a progress report every week, hoping to see that battle report from you by this weekend."

"We cannot delay," Kote gritted his teeth, eventually saying, "Inform all units to prepare as planned. The sandstorm affects us, but also the enemy. Our equipment advantage still exists."

When he said this, he deliberately overlooked the old, almost dust-proof equipment of the Kurd Armed, and the fact that thermal imaging and laser targeting equipment would be significantly compromised in the sandstorm.

Sometimes, the first person a Commander needs to persuade is himself.

Pentagon, Command Center.

On the video wall, multiple screens displayed the situation in various global hotspots.

Tetric was just one of them, occupying a small screen in the lower left corner.

"Kote insists on attacking as planned."

An Air Force Major General shook his head, "The Meteorological Department says this is the strongest sandstorm in the area in five years."

"He's taking a gamble." The Lieutenant General sitting in the center sipped his coffee, "If he wins the gamble, we can see images of the troops entering the city by tomorrow morning. If he loses…"

"If he loses, we need a backup plan."

Another General chimed in, "We cannot expend too much political capital on one Illiguo city."

Their discussion was calm and pragmatic, as if evaluating the risk-return of an investment.

The blue arrows and red defensive circles on the screen were merely data points and trend lines in their eyes.

As for those soldiers crouched in foxholes during the sandstorm, whether Kurd people, Thunder Mercenaries, or members of the 1515 Armed group, they were nothing more than parts of data to these military officials.

At 5:20 AM, the sand wall arrived.

Initially, there was a sudden increase in wind force, followed by the distant horizon turning into a churning murky yellow.

Within ten minutes, the sandstorm front overwhelmed the outskirts of the Tetric City positions like a tsunami. Visibility plummeted from five hundred meters to fifty meters, then dropped below ten meters.

The entire world was simplified to the roar of the wind and the omnipresent sound of sand grains striking.

Terrified shouts came through the alliance army's radio: "Can't see! Can't see anything!"

An MQ-9 "Grim Reaper" drone, conducting reconnaissance at the front line, suddenly lost its data link connection. The operator at the rear control center watched helplessly as the screen turned to static, the last transmitted image showing the drone tumbling and plummeting within the violent airstream.

"All airborne units, retreat immediately!"

The air traffic controller's voice screamed in the communication channel.

But it was already too late.

Two AH-64 "Apache" helicopters, preparing for a dawn assault, made emergency turns. The rotor of one helicopter violently scraped against the sand during severe turbulence, and the engine temperature alarm blared piercingly.

The pilot barely managed to crash-land the helicopter on relatively flat ground. However, the rotor blades were severely worn out, rendering this war machine worth tens of millions of US Dollars temporarily useless until repairs could be made.

The most lethal blow was the retreat of the "Sentry" early warning aircraft.

This plane, which constantly hovered over the battle zone providing comprehensive battlefield awareness to the alliance army, had to retreat hundreds of kilometers northeast to avoid being ambushed by the low, slow-moving threats that are hard to detect during a sandstorm, such as those potentially carrying man-portable air-defense systems.

With its retreat, the "God's eye view" of the alliance command system vanished.

Kote stood in front of the large screen in the "Outpost" command center, watching the originally vivid, information-rich digital map gradually turn gray block by block.

The blue allied markers began to flash the "signal lost" warning, while the red enemy activity areas became blurry due to the lack of drone reconnaissance.

"Sir, Alpha Company reports they've lost radio contact with two forward platoons!"

"Kurd's third battalion's position has had communication interrupted for over twenty minutes!"

"Meteorological department update: the sandstorm is expected to last six to eight hours!"

Bad news piled up one after another.

Kote felt his throat dry.

The informatized combat system centered around the "Sentry" early warning aircraft, which he had always taken pride in, proved so fragile against the forces of nature.

Now, all he could directly command were a few companies from Thunder Defense nearby, and those artillery units that could still be contacted through wired communication.

And all of this was observed by Song Heping in the Bayji command center.

Bayji, 7:15 AM.

"The sandstorm has completely covered the battlefield."

The analyst zoomed in on the drone footage on the computer screen and turned to look at Song Heping and Jiang Feng.

Though the resolution dropped due to the sand's effect, a few clues could still be seen.

Affected by the sandstorm, the deployed reconnaissance drones were severely disrupted as well.

Most had lost their feed, and only a few low-altitude drones circling over the outskirts of the Titrick firefight area could still transmit some battlefield images back properly.

"The thermal signals on the alliance's forward positions are moving chaotically... here, and here, obvious combat hotspots are emerging."

Song Heping stared at the screen.

Scenes from the front line appeared in his mind.

Soldiers huddled in shelters, their ears filled with the roar of the sandstorm, their eyes battered by sand making it hard to keep open, and only static noise on the radio.

With their rich combat experience in desert areas, the 1515 Armed, unless utterly foolish, would never let such an opportunity slip by.

"I think... Ahmed is surely going to take action." He said calmly.

As soon as he said this, the thermal signal map on the screen began changing dramatically.

On the alliance's front lines, especially the areas defended by Kurd's forces, dozens of small clusters of thermal sources suddenly surged from the city's ruins, like poison snakes biting into the seams of the alliance's positions.

"This Ahmed is quite clever..." Jiang Feng had to acknowledge that there were talents within the 1515 Armed Organization, which managed to rapidly rise and conquer most of the northwest of Illigo within a few years. Extreme armed groups like this, which are not just rumors, always have a few tricks and a few capable people.

"Typical infiltration counterattack tactics."

Song Heping's finger slid across several key breakout points, "Using the sandstorm for cover, small groups, multiple routes, focusing on striking the alliance's command nodes and logistics lines. I estimate... Kote should already be feeling the pressure."

He walked to the tactical board, picked up a black marker, and drew a few arrows north of Tetric City.

"If I were Ahmed, I would arrange ambush points here, here... and here. The routed soldiers in the sandstorm are most likely to lose their way, and they'll stumble into the pre-set kill zones like headless flies."

"Should we share the analysis with the Americans..." The analyst hesitantly asked.

Song Heping shook his head: "No need. From the sandstorm's arrival to the enemy's completion of infiltration deployment, it takes at least forty minutes. Our data lags fifteen minutes, the analysis takes time, and the transmission takes time... By the time the warning gets to the front line, the first wave of attacks would have been over. What's more, haha, even if we send the intelligence analysis to Kote, would he believe it?"

At this, he laughed himself.

Watching as more and more combat hotspots appeared on the screen, Song Heping knew his predictions were becoming reality.

War is like this — often, you can see the ending but cannot change its arrival.