Chapter 1349
Infiltration Operation
Chapter 1349 Infiltration Operation
At 3 PM, in the airspace above Buckswest.
The UH-60 Black Hawk helicopter flew swiftly southeast towards the Bakta Green Zone at an altitude of 600 meters, defying the heatwave.
Below the fuselage, the desert, baked by the scorching sun all day, emitted distorted halos of light, with a few tenacious camel thorns occasionally flashing by in the field of vision.
The cabin was filled with a pungent smell of disinfectant, blood, and burnt flesh.
The medical monitor emitted a regular and monotonous "beep" sound, and every slight fluctuation in the waveform on the screen affected the nerves of everyone in the cabin.
Song Heping's gaze fell on the figure wrapped in bandages on the stretcher.
Old Masoud's condition is more dangerous than when he was found two hours earlier by the desert road.
Typical flame burns, accompanied by cyanosis characteristic of inhalation injuries.
Each difficult and labored breath from the old man caused an ominous hissing sound from his chest, like a broken old bellows.
"Blood oxygen saturation has dropped to 85 and is still decreasing."
The accompanying "musician," a defense medic, spoke with a tense voice as he carefully adjusted the ventilator's parameters, his forehead covered in fine beads of sweat.
"There are clear signs of pulmonary edema. Are there burn and trauma specialists on standby in Bakhta?"
"Duke mobilized the best medical evacuation team in the war zone."
Song Heping looked out the porthole at the gradually emerging city skyline; the defensive fortifications in the Bakda Green Zone gleamed coldly in the sunlight.
He raised his finger to the army doctor.
"At most ten minutes, there should be hope!"
Old Massoud is miraculously alive.
Although they were engulfed in flames inside the armored vehicle, they were not completely consumed by the fire.
When Abuyu and his commandos used fire blankets to extinguish the remaining flames on his body, the old man was already unconscious, with weak vital signs, severe burns to his respiratory tract, and extensive burns on his body.
There was no specialized equipment, and no sterile environment.
All that could be done was to use a field knife to puncture the cricothyroid membrane and use a rigid airway found in the first aid kit to create a life-saving channel for the elderly man to maintain minimal ventilation.
The process was brutal, but there was no other choice.
The life-saving temporary ventilation tube has now been replaced with a proper endotracheal tube, which is connected to a portable ventilator.
Whether Masoud can survive the upcoming infections and organ failure remains to be seen.
"Old squad leader."
Jiang Feng suddenly spoke up, breaking the silence in the cabin: "This coup... can we really suppress it?"
Song Heping glanced at him, then turned his gaze back to the desolate land rushing past the window.
"A coup d'état is often just the beginning."
He said coldly, "Rashid controls the officials within the Autonomous Council, but that doesn't mean he's taken over the entire Kolde Autonomous Region. They're not a monolithic entity; the other major families are all watching and waiting. It's still uncertain who will emerge victorious..."
Suddenly, the pilot's announcement came through: "The green zone landing area is cleared; prepare for landing."
Bakda, Green Zone, Coalition Tactical Command Center.
The huge electronic screen wall was divided into more than a dozen live feeds.
Armed convoys speeding through the streets of Erbil, soldiers digging fortifications on the outskirts of Kirkuk, drone footage of 1515 armed personnel gathering in the direction of Mosul, and dust raised by mechanized forces faintly visible on the Turkish border.
Major General Duke stood in front of the screen, his coffee long since cold.
The door slid open, and Song Heping walked in.
“He’s still alive.” Duke didn’t turn around, his eyes still fixed on the screen. “The medical team is performing surgery to treat the burns and lung damage. But the situation is extremely serious. Even if he can pull through this, the next 72 hours will be crucial. He won’t be able to perform any duties in the short term.”
"Where is Little Massoud?"
Song Heping walked to the screen and focused his gaze on the satellite thermal image of Erbil.
"The signal was last seen at the entrance of a women's vocational school in the old city of Chengnan, and then it disappeared."
Duke finally turned around and picked up a newly printed briefing from the console.
"It seems he has found the perfect hiding place..."
"It's good that you're not dead."
Song Heping smiled, took a bottle of mineral water, unscrewed the cap, and took a big gulp.
“Even if he is caught, he will not die. Barzani will use him as a bargaining chip to secretly blackmail old Massoud—if he is still alive, he will be forced to 'voluntarily' hand over some power.”
Duke walked towards the huge war zone sand table, and the red dot of the laser pointer landed precisely:
"The current situation is very complicated. News of this coup seems to have spread very quickly. Rashid now basically controls Erbil city and its suburbs, with about 8,000 security forces and internal guard brigades directly under his command. But note that the loyalty of many of these troops is based on the chain of command rather than political identity."
Song Heping said, "Can't you speak in plain language? It's just that many soldiers and officers simply obey orders and don't know what exactly happened, let alone that Massoud was assassinated by Barzani."
Duke looked helpless after being mocked by Song Heping.
Although he was a major general in the U.S. Army, he now needed the help of the man in front of him.
He moved the spotlight toward Kirkuk: "Barzani is currently here with three brigades and is constantly mobilizing troops from various places. Rashid has pinned the blame for the assassination of the president on Abuyu through the media he controls. It is expected that these troops will launch an attack on Abuyu's brigade by dawn tomorrow at the latest."
The light spot shifted south: "In the direction of Mosul, the activity frequency of the 1515 armed group has increased significantly. At least two regimental combat groups are patrolling in the direction of Mosul and Baiji, waiting for an opportunity, presumably wanting to take advantage of the chaos."
Finally, the light returned to the Erbil region:
"The families within the Kold's inner circle, such as the Talabani, Khalaf, and Osman families, have all learned of the coup, but none of them have made a statement. They probably don't know if old Massoud is still alive, or if young Massoud is still alive. These old foxes are watching and waiting for the balance of power to tilt, or waiting for a bargaining chip that they can bet on."
Song Heping approached the sand table, placed his hands on the edge, and scanned every terrain marker and troop symbol. His brain rapidly integrated the information, assessing the weight and cost of each possibility.
"Are you sure Torhan is one of your men?" he asked.
"Yes, he was the first one to tell me about the coup, and now Torhan controls the media's transmission towers and signal sources."
Duke pointed to the blueprints of the Erbil TV Tower on the screen, saying, "If we could get in touch with him and broadcast the news and images of Masood Omar al-Masood being alive and receiving treatment to all of Koldistan, the lies of Barzani and Rashid about 'the leader's death and legal takeover' would instantly be exposed. This would be enough to shake the neutrals and could even tear the coup group apart from within."
Song Heping said, "Then why don't you just contact him directly and have him release the message?"
Duke shook his head: "It's not that simple. Torkhan is not a determined person. Without Massoud personally speaking to him and giving him orders, this guy simply doesn't have the guts to stand up against Rashid and Barzani. If we want him to be willing to take the risk, we must have someone from our side go and persuade him in person."
Song Heping glanced at Duke: "Judging from your tone, you want me to go there myself?"
"Only you can take on this task."
Duke's gaze fell on Song Heping's face. "In the Northwest, no one has higher prestige than you. Even I probably don't have your persuasive power."
"Don't flatter me. Don't you have an office over there? Just send someone over to find him." Song Heping sneered.
“You are the best candidate.” Duke shook his head and said, “You have extensive experience in unconventional operations, and… your official background is obscure. In case of failure, Washington has ample room for denial.”
This is a typical example of realpolitik logic.
Song Heping was already used to it.
“I can carry out the mission,” he said, his tone unchanged, “but it requires overall coordination. Barzani’s primary strategic objective right now is undoubtedly the Abuyu Brigade in Kirkuk. He needs this biggest organized threat to deter others and consolidate his power. Once the Abuyu Brigade is defeated, all the onlookers are likely to side with the stronger party.”
Duke nodded: "We agree. How long do you think Abuyu can hold out on his own?"
“Without external support, I estimate it will take seven days.” Song Heping tapped his finger on Kirkuk’s location. “But with support, it will take much longer, and we may not necessarily lose.”
"What are you planning to do?" Duke asked.
“Create multiple layers of pressure.” Song Heping took the laser pointer and drew three arrows around Kirkuk. “I will have Samir’s ‘Liberation Forces’ conduct a tactical feint from the northwest, making it appear as if they are cutting off the main road from Erbil to Kirkuk. At the same time, hire the ‘Musicians’ battalion to carry out harassment operations in the hilly areas to the southeast, specifically targeting the coup forces’ logistics supply lines and reconnaissance units.”
Duke stared at the sand table, weighing the risks: "But mobilizing these two forces to reinforce the Abuyu Brigade in the Kirkuk direction will inevitably weaken your conventional defenses in Mosul, Hurmatu, and Baiji. The 1515 militia will never let this window of opportunity pass."
“So we need someone to temporarily hold the northern front for us,” Song Heping continued.
"Who? The government army? They can't even maintain order in their own capital now."
"The Persian Holy City Journey"
This word made the air in the command center freeze instantly.
Duke slowly turned around, staring intently at Song Heping, his face darkening.
"Do you know what you're talking about?"
"very clear."
Song Heping met his gaze and said casually, "I know you are sensitive about the Persians, but the Persian Holy City Brigade has deployed at least two reinforced brigades of combat power on the western border of Iligor, with their vanguard less than 100 kilometers from the outskirts of Mosul. They are the most suitable candidates. Otherwise, why don't you send someone over and try?"
You've opened Pandora's box!
Duke lowered his voice even further, “Let the elite of the Persian Revolutionary Guard into the Northwest? The Pentagon and Capitol Hill will be in an uproar!”
"They've been worshipping Yiji for a long time, didn't you know?" Song Heping sneered. "Don't pretend you don't know anything, stop deceiving yourselves."
Duke remained silent. He knew that Song Heping's words were very realistic.
Apart from some special forces, some logistics units, and some air force personnel, the U.S. military has very few ground troops left in Iligo.
Without relying on Song peace and the Persians, it would be impossible to suppress the 1515 armed forces.
This is the most basic reason why we sought to discuss cooperation with Song Heping in the first place.
“I need authorization from the highest level,” he finally said.
"We don't have time to wait for authorization."
Song Heping glanced at his watch. "Barzani's advance troops may have already set off. Every hour of delay increases the danger to Abuyu and gives the neutrals more reason to side with the coup plotters."
Duke sighed.
As a soldier, he abhorred bringing geopolitical calculations into military operations; but in his position, he had to weigh the far-reaching consequences of every decision.
Song Heping's plan is extremely risky.
Although a certain number of Quds Force soldiers had entered Baiji before.
But this time it's two reinforced brigades...
It is easy to ask God but difficult to send Him away.
Once these Persians enter, it will be extremely difficult for them to withdraw.
However, disagreeing would be tantamount to allowing Barzani and Rashid to completely seize control of the Kordi regime, which would be a fatal blow to the United States' Middle East strategy.
"I authorize you to proceed with the deployment."
Duke finally made his decision: "Mobilize the 'Liberation Forces' and your 'Musicians' defense mercenaries to operate according to your plan. I will personally have 'informal communication' with the command of the Holy City Brigade to try to reach a temporary border defense agreement. But you must make it clear: the Persians' activities must be strictly limited, and they must not be allowed to enter any Kold'd region."
"Don't worry," Song Heping said. "They are limited to activities in places like Mosul and Baiji, and will not go to the Kordi Autonomous Region."
"As for the mission in Erbil..."
Duke returned to the console and brought up the complex building structure and security layout diagrams.
“This is the complete set of blueprints for the national television and communications center. Torhan will stay there. The Security Bureau has about fifty personnel stationed in the area, working in three shifts. This is their duty roster and patrol routes. These are known blind spots in the surveillance. You can sneak in and make contact with him.”
Song Heping quickly browsed the scrolling data on the screen.
Infiltration route, backup plan, emergency assembly point, evacuation route...
All the details quickly formed a three-dimensional action plan in his mind.
“Where is Masood’s hiding place?” he asked.
“I have investigated, and the last place he disappeared was the women’s vocational school run by Fatima.”
Duke pulled up a street view image and some brief information.
"This woman is a veteran of the Socialist Party, with deep influence at the grassroots level in the south of the city, and has a long-standing relationship with the Masood family. But this also means that Rashid is likely to list that area as a key search area as well."
“I will go there first to see if I can find Masoud, since old Masoud is currently in a coma, and if necessary, I can have young Masoud appear on camera.”
Song Heping noted down the address and characteristics.
"Leave it to me, I'll handle it."
Duke took a reinforced tactical tablet from the safe and handed it to Song Heping:
"All encrypted communication protocols, one-time identification codes, and emergency contact frequencies are included. There is also an assessment list of Barzani and Rashid's inner circle and potential swing voters: green indicates potential candidates, yellow indicates candidates need to be observed, and red indicates candidates need to be eliminated."
Song Heping took the tablet and quickly swiped the screen.
The list is detailed, covering multiple levels including politics, military, business, and tribal communities, with each person's background, inclinations, and weaknesses concisely marked.
The power structure within the Koldeid Autonomous Community is now laid bare in the form of data.
"When should I leave?"
"An hour later, a C-130 will take off from Bakda military airfield. You will conduct a high hop low open (HALO) infiltration in the designated airspace, avoiding all ground checkpoints and radar-intensive areas."
Duke glanced at the time. "Your team members? What kind of setup do you need?"
"Four people, not too many, too many would be too conspicuous. I will lead the team myself."
Song Heping already had a plan in mind.
"I will arrange the personnel; they will be there within an hour."
Duke extended his hand. "Good luck, Song. I'll be here waiting for your good news."
Two hours later, in the airspace east of Erbil.
The four Rolls-Royce AE 2100D3 turboprop engines of the C-130J Super Hercules transport aircraft roared deafeningly, their massive blades tearing through the air.
Inside the cabin, the lights were dimmed to a dark red.
Song Heping and his team were fully equipped and sitting with their backs against the bulkhead, conducting the final checks before their jump.
Parachutes, oxygen masks, altimeters, GPS locators, weapons, ammunition, supplies...
Every step was repeatedly confirmed.
Song Heping glanced at the multi-function watch on his wrist and switched it to countdown mode.
The red lights inside the cabin began to flash.
The pilot's voice came through the internal communication channel:
"Arrived at the starting airspace, altitude 8,500 meters, wind speeds are strong at high altitudes. Reaching the drop point in 30 seconds. Oxygen preparation, final checks!"
The team members checked each other's parachutes and oxygen connections.
Song Heping took a deep breath; the oxygen inside the mask was icy cold.
He looked out the porthole and saw a vast, dark desert below. On the distant horizon, the lights of Erbil were like faint, struggling spots of light in the darkness.
"Ten seconds!" the pilot shouted.
The rear cabin ramp slowly descended, and a violent, low-temperature airflow rushed in instantly. Even wearing a thick parachute suit, one could feel the biting cold.
Outside the cabin, the stars in the night sky seemed almost within reach.
The red light turns green.
"Jump! Jump! Jump!"
Song Heping was the first to jump out of the cabin, and a strong feeling of weightlessness instantly enveloped his entire body.
Immediately afterwards, Jiang Feng's other three elite mercenaries from his company leaped out one after another.
They were like five black pebbles, falling into the boundless night.
Free fall.
All I could hear was the whistling wind.
The ground rapidly expanded in the field of vision, gradually becoming clearer from a blurry patch of color.
Song Heping maintained a standard diving posture, using the altimeter and GPS navigation to precisely adjust his direction.
At the designated altitude, he deployed his parachute.
The immense impact brought the descent to an abrupt halt, and the descent slowed to a gentle drift.
Through the night vision goggles, the earth appeared as a dark green world.
Below, the outline of the planned landing site—an abandoned farm—is faintly discernible.
Further away, the city lights of Erbil illuminate the landscape.
He maneuvered the parachute lines, precisely landing on what appeared to be a flat, barren area.
With feet on the ground, roll over to dissipate the force and quickly detach from the parachute.
Almost at the same time, four other parachutes also landed safely not far away.
The night breeze rustled through the wild grass.
In the distance, there were the barking of wild dogs, and further away, the faint sound of vehicle engines.
Song Heping used a series of tactical hand signals.
The team quickly assembled, put away their parachutes and made simple burials, then formed a warning formation and silently disappeared into the darkness, heading towards the city and the center of the storm.
Second update, another 10,000 words today. Please vote with monthly tickets! Give me lots of monthly tickets! They'll expire if I don't vote now.
(End of this chapter)