Chapter 1789 - 1371: On the Brink of Battle_3

After he finished speaking, he stood up, hands supported on the edge of the console:

"Remember, the mission of this operation is only one: liberate the city with the minimum cost."

Samir was the first to respond: "The Tenth Division is ready."

Abu You followed up: "The Kurd forces will adhere to discipline."

Naxin was silent for a moment.

In the background from his side, you could hear someone quickly reporting in Persian.

"The Holy City Brigade will carry out the blockade mission."

He finally spoke: "But the night vision equipment airdrop must be on time. If I don't see parachutes by two o'clock, my reconnaissance unit can only remain in place until daylight."

"The C-130 has already taken off." Jiang Feng interjected: "Expected to reach the drop zone at 1:50. You can open your radio and switch to the backup frequency, the pilot will directly contact you."

Lastly, the representative from the government army in Baghdad responsible for refugee evacuation and resettlement, Khalid, expressed:

"The government army will strictly adhere to international law and the rules of engagement. The civilian reception center is ready and can be utilized at any time."

"Great." Song Heping lowered his head to check the time: "All units act according to the final timetable. Communication silence starts six hours before H-hour, only emergency channels remain open. The last collective communication is fifteen minutes before H-hour."

He scanned the four screens: "May your Allah bless you all. But, as an atheist, I believe on the battlefield, the only thing that can truly protect you are your brothers beside you and the weapon in your hand."

"Gentlemen, see you at H-hour."

The screens simultaneously went dark.

In the command center, the tense atmosphere felt like it had released a tension wire, but was immediately pulled tight again.

Staff started working faster, and the radio carried voices of various units confirming orders.

Song Heping turned and said to Jiang Feng: "You keep an eye here, I'm going out for some air."

"The rooftop?"

"Yes. Ten minutes."

Pushing open the rooftop fire door, the desert night wind felt like a cold splash on the face.

The night temperature had already dropped to 12 degrees, but the wind's speed had increased.

Song Heping walked to the edge of the roof, the rough and cold surface of the concrete railing felt like the bones of some large animal.

He looked north, in the direction of Tikrit, completely dark without a single light.

The 1515 Armed was smart, they implemented strict lighting control, and the whole city seemed to have sunk to the ocean floor.

But he could imagine the scene there.

Sandbag fortifications piled on narrow streets, the windows of buildings all sealed leaving only firing holes.

Snipers might hide in the shadows of any rooftop, and broken-down cars parked by the road might be filled with explosives.

Those century-old buildings, the inner walls likely already hollowed out, turned into layered defensive fortifications.

Including civilians.

Over thirty thousand people, mostly elderly, women, and children.

They hid in basements, air raid shelters, or just rooms they thought were safe.

Some might have been out of food for days, some might be holding sick children helplessly.

And all this would be engulfed in a storm of steel and flame in forty hours.

The wind carried other sounds.

Not the sound of the wind, but deeper, more rhythmic mechanical noise.

It was the diesel engine roar distinctive of armored units maneuvering at night in the distance.

The sound came from the east, it should be Samir's Tenth Division adjusting their position one last time.

Occasionally, there was the crisp clang of metal collisions, possibly tanks attaching extra armor.

"Old squad leader."

Jiang Feng also came up.

"It's all arranged."

He said: "The discipline team's personnel have been selected, all veterans, they understand the nuances of enforcing battlefield law. The US Army's JTAC team has already set off, by helicopter to the frontline, then infiltrate on foot."

Song Heping didn't respond, continuing to look north.

"Jiang Feng."

After a long time, Song Heping suddenly spoke: "What do you think Tikrit will be like after this battle ends?"

Jiang Feng took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

"I don't know, old squad leader." His voice was calm and sincere: "I'm not a politician, nor a Prophet. All I know is that war brings nothing worth celebrating."

"What we can do is very simple."

After a pause, he continued: "Make sure our troops pull the trigger, advance, occupy. As for what happens after the battle..."

He shrugged helplessly: "That's something for the living to worry about."

Song Heping remained silent for a long time.

The wind blew from the depths of the desert, carrying sand grains and a rust-like scent.

Perhaps it was the uncleaned bloodstains on the distant battlefield, perhaps the remnants of abandoned armored vehicles, or maybe just the memories embedded in the land itself.

This land remembered too many wars.

Assyrians, Persians, Arabs, Mongolians, Ottomans, British, Americans...

Now it's our turn to experience it.

"You're right." He finally said: "I was overthinking. A soldier's task is not to solve all problems but to do his job well in his own patch."

He turned around and heavily patted Jiang Feng's shoulder.

They were old comrades who had fought side by side for more than a decade, many words didn't need to be spoken.

Returning to the command center, the staff were still working, the radio was still communicating, and the map on the screen wall was still updating in real-time.

And the most striking thing was the giant red countdown timer on the wall.

The numbers had just adjusted:

40:47:19

After forty hours, forty-seven minutes, and nineteen seconds, this ancient city with a two-thousand-year history will face yet another baptism of blood and fire.

Twenty-two thousand people will launch assaults from four directions simultaneously, tank treads will grind over streets, shells will tear the sky, snipers' crosshairs will lock onto every breathing target.

Now is the last quiet moment.