Chapter 1896 - 1407: Accepting Delta's Surrender

In the underground command post of the Tenth Division, the air was so heavy it seemed like it might drip water.

The fluorescent light tubes emitted a low hum, and the indicator lights of electronic equipment flickered like graveyard fireflies in the dim space.

Samir stood in front of the tactical map, his hands propped on the table edge, listening intently to the noise outside.

A few minutes ago, the US Army F-16 sorties had precisely destroyed the last three air defense radar sites on the perimeter.

According to protocol, after destroying the air defense sites, the next step would be the bombing of key targets.

Although the Tenth Division had already been dispersed around the outskirts of Mosul, stretching the distance between various combat units and utilizing the terrain as much as possible—even scattering some infantry units into nearby villages as concealment.

But as a seasoned Illiguo militia operative dealing with Americans for over a decade, Samir knew the level of US military technology.

A force of a few thousand would find it hard to completely hide under the Americans' keen scrutiny.

Everyone was prepared for the bombing.

Yet, nothing happened.

"How long has it been since the last round of bombing?"

Samir asked, his voice echoing off the concrete walls.

"Fourteen minutes, General."

The communications officer, eyes fixed on the monitor, responded, sweat beading on his forehead.

Song Heping sat on a folding chair in the corner, his gaze passing through the bustling staff in the command post, landing on the live images of the troops on the main monitor wall.

These were images updated just ten minutes ago, showing the radar sites still engulfed in fierce flames.

"Could they really have given up?" Samir turned, his face full of disbelief: "This isn't the style of the US Army."

"Perhaps Washington realized the price was too high." Song Heping rose slowly and walked to the tactical map: "Destroying us is easy, but the consequences they cannot afford."

"What consequences?"

"Political consequences."

Song Heping's finger traced the location of the US Army joint task force base on the map.

"The media is already speculating whether the White House is preparing to militarily intervene again in the Illiguo civil war. Now on the internet and in the news media, this place has become the focus. Once it escalates, the scandals that come out would be enough to make Obama and the Donkey Party unable to cope."

Samir shook his head: "I don't believe in those politicians' logic. On the battlefield, the advantageous side never retreats due to public opinion."

"That's the case in conventional warfare." Song Heping said calmly: "But what I'm fighting isn't a conventional war."

The command post suddenly fell silent.

Everyone's eyes focused on Song Heping.

"You mean—"

"No need to ask more." Song Heping smiled: "In short, remember one thing, we won the bet again this time."

Samir narrowed his eyes.

In his eyes, Song Heping had always been a god-like existence.

His boss could always turn impossible things into reality.

A young officer suddenly stood up from the communications station: "General! The frontline observation post reports that the US aerial formations have completely withdrawn from our air defense zone. Repeating, we are now detecting no US aerial units."

Samir quickly walked to the communication station, taking the headset: "All units confirm?"

"All units confirm, General. Northern second, fourth, and seventh observation stations; southern radar remnants cross-verified. The sky is clear."

Samir took off the headset and exchanged a glance with Song Heping.

"This doesn't make sense." Samir muttered.

"Quite the contrary." A faint hint of a smile appeared on Song Heping's lips: "It makes perfect sense. Follow me."

Escorted by several guards, the two climbed the concrete steps.

The heavy anti-explosion door slowly opened, and the cold dawn light and air rushed in together.

The night was still above, stars twinkling.

In the distant positions, the soldiers of the Tenth Division poked their heads out of the bunkers, their expressions a mix of confusion and vigilance.

No engine roars, no explosions, everything was eerily quiet.

"Too quiet."

Samir took a deep breath, still smelling the scent of smoke and dust in the air.

"See, wasn't I right?" Song Heping looked towards the western sky: "I bet the call is coming soon."

As if to confirm his words, the satellite phone began vibrating at this moment.

Glancing at the screen, Song Heping knew it was Simon.

It seemed Washington had sent this Central Intelligence Agency director to clean up the mess.

"Song." Simon said: "You must have guessed I would call you."

Song Heping nodded slightly: "Yes, you are the most suitable person to clean up the mess."

Simon quipped: "I'll take that as a compliment. How did you deduce that I would be the one to coordinate this matter?"

"Reasonable inference." Song Heping responded calmly: "The sudden halt in conventional military operations usually means a political resolution is brewing. And right now, besides the Central Intelligence Agency, who else could get in touch with me?"

Simon fell silent for a moment before speaking again.

"President Obama considered your... proposal. After an emergency national security meeting, the White House agreed to your three conditions."

"My conditions are simple." Song Heping said coldly: "And very reasonable."

Simon continued: "First, we will not hold any individual or organization accountable for this incident, provided that all hostile actions cease immediately and all detained personnel are released."

"Misu and Blake?" Song Heping asked.

"Included." Simon answered concisely: "Second, regarding the handling of leftover US military equipment, it can be done according to 'surplus material disposal procedures.' Specific details require negotiation by both parties' technical staff."

Song Heping noted the use of "surplus material" instead of "armaments," a typical bureaucratic wording that saves face while making practical concessions.