"Captain, there's suddenly no movement outside..."
In the hospital, a "Satan" mercenary reported the situation to Charles.
"I know."
Charles was also full of doubts at this moment.
More than ten minutes ago, the surrender broadcast outside had stopped, and even the occasional cold shots had disappeared.
He couldn't even see the people anymore.
It was as if the guys who had been besieging the hospital and attacking him had disappeared in an instant.
Now, he really wanted to send someone outside to see what was going on.
But on second thought, that Song Heping was as cunning as a fox. What if this was a trap?
After weighing the pros and cons, Charles decided to stay put and wait for reinforcements.
After all, the advantage of time was on his side.
Colonel Hart's support troops were already on the way and were expected to arrive in forty minutes.
As long as they held out for forty minutes, they and his men would be safe.
He didn't know when it started, but Charles suddenly had an instinctive fear of Song Heping, and his tactics had completely reverted to a conservative approach, which was completely contrary to his previous style of doing things in Africa.
"Tell everyone to hold their positions. As long as we keep them out for forty minutes, these guys will definitely be surrounded by the Peacekeeping Forces!"
Charles's abacus beads almost bounced off his face. His mindset, which had been on the verge of collapse, was once again filled with confidence.
He felt he could do it again.
Standing in the shadows outside the hospital, Song Heping's gaze was as sharp as a hawk.
He scanned every corner of the distant hospital.
All the core members of the "Musician" company were holding their breaths, waiting for his next command.
This was the first task they had gathered for since leaving Illiguo, and everyone was incredibly excited, eager to relive that perfect coordination and exhilarating quick assault.
"Are you ready?"
Song Heping asked in a low voice on the communication channel, his tone filled with undeniable authority.
"Ready!"
Everyone responded in unison, their voices low but full of strength.
Song Heping nodded, his gaze sweeping over each one of them.
He knew the upcoming battle would be tough, but he believed in his team and his tactics.
"Ferrari, Henry, give them some appetizers."
At his command, the tear gas launchers on the two nearby UN armored vehicles fired in unison, shooting out strings of flames.
One tear gas canister after another was launched, accurately breaking the hospital windows and landing inside.
"Damn it!"
Charles smelled it immediately.
The pungent and familiar smell made him instantly recognize what had entered.
"Tear gas!"
He yelled as he covered his mouth and nose with a field scarf.
"Captain, our gas masks are all in the vehicles!"
"We should have brought them down!"
"Who would have thought we'd need it in this damned place!"
Several of his subordinates were in a frenzy on the channel.
"Everyone calm the hell down, wet your masks and use them with the field scarves, it will hold for a while!"
Charles wasn't an idiot.
He was a professionally trained special forces veteran with years of combat experience.
Knowing how to use simple protective measures to avoid tear gas attacks was basic knowledge.
He knew.
But he also knew that given the current firing density and the concentration of tear gas inside, ordinary medical masks and field scarves wouldn't hold out for long.
In a few minutes, they'd probably have to rely on themselves and their team.
"Damn you, Song Heping!"
Charles, like a trapped beast, had been cornered.
He even felt an impulse to grab his gun and charge out to have a death match with Song Heping.
But doing so was meaningless. There were snipers at both the front and back doors; a subordinate had just had his head blown off by a 7.62 caliber sniper bullet after showing his face in the window for barely a second.