Chapter 1982 - 1440: Face-Up Cards

At the same moment, Mosul East Suburb, the Illigo Army Tenth Division barracks.

At this point, the room was brightly lit, with a massive electronic sandbox occupying the center, densely marked with terrain elevations, road networks, village distributions, and known armed force bases.

Song Heping stood in front of the sandbox, hands on the table edge, body leaning forward in an offensive stance.

Beside Samir, brows furrowed, fingers traced a dangerous arc on the sandbox: "Song, the situation we feared the most has happened. Starting at one o'clock in the morning, our signal intelligence unit detected unusually frequent radio communications. The Dulaim tribe in Anbar Province, the Jabur Tribe in Saladin Province, and two Sunni militia groups in Nineveh Province are all mobilizing their people."

There were six more officers in the command room, each responsible for the security command of six transportation routes.

Everyone's face was as overcast as the sky before a storm.

"What's worse is this." Samir pulled up another piece of intelligence: "An informant at the Siria border reported last night from ten to two in the morning, at least three groups of 1515 remnants crossed the border into Illigo, with a total number estimated at around 450 people. They carried heavy weapons, witnesses saw a pickup truck mounted with a ZU-23-2 anti-aircraft gun."

A repressed gasp sounded in the room.

The ZU-23-2 is a Soviet-designed 23mm twin-barrel anti-aircraft gun, and in flat firing, it can easily tear apart lightly armored vehicles, being a killer weapon for road ambushes.

A young captain couldn't help but speak: "Mr. Song, maybe we should postpone the transport? Even if we delay three days, let this storm pass..."

"Delaying is meaningless."

Song Heping straightened up, picked up a laser pointer from the table.

The red dot roamed across the sandbox, accurately stopping at several key nodes.

"If a mole gets the intelligence once, they can get it a second time, because it must be an inside job. Delaying will only give the opponent more time to prepare, allowing them to bury the IED deeper and fortify the ambush positions more sturdily."

He turned to Samir, his gaze sharp as a scalpel: "You said earlier that you could deploy up to 4,000 men?"

"Yes, but that's the limit." Samir spread his hands in a bitter smile: "There are still six primary checkpoints around Mosul that need guarding, Baghdad refuses to deploy troops from other divisions for support, saying they're guarding against Kurd Autonomous Region suddenly declaring independence. I've even included the gendarme and logistics guards into the escort sequence; I really can't spare more men."

Song Heping stared at the sandbox, silent for a full minute.

In the command center, only the low hum of the air conditioning system, the sound of server cabinet cooling fans, and the faint commotion from the distant military camp could be heard.

The soldiers were making the final preparations before dawn.

"Add another 4,000 men." Song Heping suddenly said.

Samir was stunned, thinking he heard wrong: "What?!"

"Pull out another 4,000 men from your Tenth Division." Song Heping's tone was calm yet incontrovertible: "By any means necessary, squeeze out these 4,000 men. Heavy weapons are prioritized for allocation, all stock of PKM machine guns, 82mm mortars, and RPG-7 rocket launchers should be brought, and ammunition will be issued in double basic load."

"This... this violates the Ministry of Defense's staffing regulations!" Samir's voice rose in excitement: "And we don't have enough troop transport vehicles! Most of Tenth Division's motor vehicles are under repair; usable armored Hummers are no more than thirty..."

"I will solve the vehicle problem."

Song Heping had already picked up the satellite phone, quickly dialed a number.

During the brief wait to connect, he looked toward Samir.

"Samir, regulations are written for peacetime. On the road of war, there are no regulations, only life and death."

The call connected.

"Abu You, this is Song. I need you to arrange something, prepare two hundred Toyota Hilux pickups, diesel four-wheel-drive versions, must be delivered to the Tenth Division barracks by 5 p.m. today. Yes, all need modifications. Cargo beds need PKM machine gun mounts welded, front windshields with bulletproof steel plates added, rear beds with additional fuel tanks."

He paused and said, "Tell Chairman Masoud that he owes me a favor, and should repay it. If there is any loss to the borrowed vehicles, I will pay three times the market price."

After hanging up, he looked at the dumbfounded Samir: "This business is no longer a matter of money. Robbin and Lemont aren't looking at whether we can make a profit from this arms deal, but whether we're qualified to continue playing on this chessboard."

He walked to the window and abruptly pulled open the heavy bulletproof curtain.

On the military camp playground, the searchlights tore the night into fragments.

Hundreds of soldiers were doing the last equipment checks, the metallic clash of disassembling and assembling firearms, the roar of vehicle engines, and the shouts of officers intertwined into a prelude to war.

Dust flew in the light, like a slowly descending golden sandstorm.

"Think about it, what's the situation in Illigo now?"

Song Heping did not turn around, his voice reflecting off the glass.

"The government army controls the major cities, but what about outside the cities? The Anbar Province desert, the Saladin Province hills, the Diyala Province valleys, over three hundred tribes each governing themselves, over ninety militia groups carving out territories, 1515 scattered but not destroyed, Kurdish people could stir for independence again at any time, Iran's Holy City Brigade is infiltrating, Americans want to leave but are unwilling, Turkish people are watching the northwest oil fields, Russians are eager at the Siria border..."

He turned around, his gaze sweeping across every face in the command center.

"In this kind of place, reputation isn't signed on a contract; it's earned through battles."

Every word Song Heping spoke was like a bullet nailing into the air.

"If today we delay transportation because of fear of attacks, tomorrow everyone will know that Song Heping's goods can be stolen. If today we lose even one truck of weaponry, the day after, all clients, including the Illigo Ministry of Defense and the Kurdish Autonomous Government, will doubt our capability. In this industry, once you lose your reputation, you're permanently out."

Samir took a deep breath and wiped the sweat from his forehead: "But even increasing to eight thousand, the pressure is tremendous. If the intelligence is true, every route might face double or even triple the enemy..."

"That's why we need to change the rules of the game." Song Heping returned to the sand table, and the point of the laser pen began to move quickly, drawing complex arrows and circles on the sand table: "Not passive escorting, but proactive battlefield cleaning. Twelve hours before the convoy sets off, deploy advance reconnaissance teams to investigate all potential ambush points along the way, checking all structures, high points, culverts, and abandoned vehicles within five hundred meters on both sides of the highway."

"That requires a lot of manpower, and we're already short on troops..."

"Adding the Kurdish soldiers provided by Abu You will be enough, and we must compensate with air power."

Song Heping said: "Your Tenth Division has two armed Mi-17 helicopters, use them all, but not just for simple air patrolling. Each helicopter carries an eight-member special operations team, equipped with snipers, demolition experts, and communication specialists, establishing a forward reconnaissance line twenty kilometers ahead of the convoy, and I'll personally lead the team. If a suspicious target is found, either disperse or..."

He didn't finish, gently making a beheading motion with his hand.

Everyone understood the meaning behind that gesture.

In Illigo, sometimes the simplest solution is the most effective.

"And—"

Song Heping continued, the laser pen stopping at three transportation hub locations on the sand table.

"The six routes should not fight independently. Establish three rapid response bases here, here, and here, each equipped with an eight-hundred strong mobile unit, with armored vehicles and mortars. If any route is attacked, the nearest mobile unit must arrive to support within thirty minutes."

Samir quickly calculated the troop deployment in his mind, beads of sweat seeping from his forehead.

At this moment, he felt unprecedented pressure.

"With this deployment, our command system becomes extremely complex, communication channels will be severely congested, and the logistics supply line will be extended threefold." He pointed at the sand table and said: "If multiple locations are attacked simultaneously, the command center won't be able to effectively coordinate."

"Then fight several isolated local battles." Song Heping's voice was eerily calm: "Samir, during the Mosul campaign, you fought street battles with the 1515; back then, what did you face? Thousands of desperate lunatics driving suicide trucks, strapped with explosive vests, willing to die just to drag you to Hell with them. How did you withstand it back then?"

He patted this Illigo brigade commander's shoulder: "This time the opponents are many, but each with their own ghostly motives. Tribal militants want weapons, not to fight to the death; the 1515 remnant has combat power but limited numbers; those militia groups are more likely here trying their luck. As long as our first wave of counterattack is ferocious and fast enough, eliminating their fiercest force, the others will hesitate, observe, starting to calculate their own casualty costs."

Just then, a communications officer hurriedly walked in and handed an encrypted message to Samir.

After reading, Samir's expression changed from solemn to ash-gray.

"Latest intelligence, northwest of Baghdad." His voice was a bit hoarse: "'Justice League' and 'Allah Brigade', two militia groups, are amassing en masse, estimated total of over fifteen hundred people. They're well-equipped, intelligence shows six trucks with Iranian plates entered their camp yesterday, possibly delivering anti-tank missiles."

The command center was dead silent.

Unexpectedly, Song Heping laughed.

"Good news." He said.

"Good news?" Samir could hardly believe his ears.

"If all enemies were hiding in the shadows, then we'd truly be worried."

Song Heping picked up a red marker from the table, quickly drawing something on the edge of the sand table map.

"But now we know who they are, roughly where they are, and what they want. This is an open confrontation."

He finished the last stroke and stepped back.

The officers gathered round, seeing a complex combat matrix diagram added to the edge of the sand table.

Six transport routes marked with blue solid lines, twelve high-risk ambush zones marked with red circles, three rapid response bases marked with yellow triangles, and two helicopter patrol routes drawn with green dashed lines.

The elements connected with different colored lines forming a three-dimensional defense-response network, just like a meticulously woven spider web.

"Six the following morning, depart as usual." Song Heping put down the marker and looked around at everyone: "Notify all participating units, this isn't a transportation task, but a battle. The opponents are everyone in northwest Illigo who covet these arms, tribal militants, militia groups, terrorist remnants, and possibly 'unofficial operatives' from some countries."

He paused, letting each word seep into the silence:

"What we're going to do is not sneakily transport goods to Baghdad, but boldly announce to everyone—from today, on this road, there are new rules."

After the order was issued, the barracks instantly transformed into a bustling war machine.