"Abandon the vehicles! Everyone! Take as much water, food, and weapons as you can! For the severely wounded..."
Song Heping scanned everyone, his gaze carrying a hint of reluctance.
"How do we handle the severely wounded?"
The medic, nicknamed "Doctor" in the special forces platoon, swallowed hard and squeezed out this question through clenched teeth.
"Carry them!" Song Heping said resolutely, "Use stretchers! Dismantle the car doors! Take apart the car canopies! Anything that can be used as a stretcher, dismantle it! Assign a group to take turns carrying them! Everyone else, protect the flanks! Our target is that Wind Erosion Rock Area to the south! Quick! Move!"
His shout was like a thunderclap, instantly awakening everyone numbed by the scorching heat and despair.
The instinct to survive overwhelmed their fatigue.
The soldiers burst with their last reserves of energy, frantically unloading everything useful from the trucks, roughly dismantling car doors and canvas canopies to make makeshift stretchers.
The groaning severely wounded were carefully placed on stretchers. The lightly injured gritted their teeth, gripping their rifles tightly.
Song Heping took one last look at the twelve immobilized trucks. Under the scorching sun of the Sahara, they would quickly turn into scrap metal and markers, guiding the pursuers.
There was no need to think much to imagine that Mrs. M and her subordinates, sitting in the Q level operation room by the Thames River in London, would order the SBS special squad and the GNA armed forces to spare no expense to ensure they are left behind in Libya.
The number of pursuers behind them was probably not calculated in thousands, but in tens of thousands.
At such a time, anyone would have likely collapsed long ago.
The more heroic would directly aim at their temples and end it, sparing themselves the humiliation.
The more cowardly would have been prepared to surrender long ago, begging Mrs. M for mercy in exchange for a way out.
But Song Heping was neither.
The more desperate the situation, the more fighting spirit he had.
By nature, he liked to fight against the heavens.
To struggle against destiny.
Just like when he retired and returned home, his father passed away, the home was bare, with a younger brother and sister to provide for.
For survival, he went to the Illiguo warzone.
Isn't it all about defying fate?
At this very moment, the fighting spirit in Song Heping's nature was once again stirred up.
Don't admit defeat!
Don't accept setback!
Fight to the end!
Even in death, it must be on the path of assault.
This is the blissful life of a real man!
"Boss, even if we don't abandon any wounded, we might not be able to cross this desert..."
Even the usually reticent Disaster Star, who never wasted words, couldn't help but voice his concern at this moment.
"They have enough logistical support, water, food, ammunition... we..."
"Don't question my decision." Song Heping left no room for argument with Disaster Star, "What I need now is absolute obedience and execution! Disaster Star, we've been comrades for a long time, but remember, don't question my decisions at times like this, don't waste my time!"
Song Heping pointed south.
"I remember there's an oasis forty kilometers from here in that direction."
"That's right!"
General Haftar's eyes lit up.
"It's the Kurtan Oasis!"
"Yes, this desert is not impossible to cross, it is possible. Once we reach the oasis, we can replenish our water, maybe even find some food!"
Song Heping was very confident in his choice.
Seeing the slightly doubtful look in General Haftar's eyes, Song Heping quipped, "What are you worried about?"
"Worrying about..." General Haftar looked around, "Ammunition... our ammunition is almost depleted."
"You've read 'On Protracted War' many times, but you haven't grasped its essence." Song Heping teased, "During the Anti-Japanese War, the guerrillas led by great leaders were at a disadvantage in both numbers and equipment. Do you know where their ammunition came from?"
"Self-reliance..." General Haftar replied hesitantly, like a timid student afraid of getting the answer wrong.
"You only got half of it right." Song Heping chuckled and hummed a tune, "No guns, no cannons, the enemy delivers them to our doorstep..."
With that, he hesitated no more, raised his HK417, pointed towards the Wind Erosion Rock Area in the south, lurking in the heatwave like a monster's fangs.
"Follow my command, move out!"
This exhausted group left behind their last means of mobility, as if a pack of desperate lemmings migrating in the desert, plunged into the boundless sea of sand, heading towards that unreachable glimpse of hope, beginning a trek destined to be bloody.
Behind them, the roar of engines was like the Grim Reaper's hideous laughter, drawing ever closer.
An hour later.
The scorching wind of the Sahara Desert carried along choking sand, slicing like a knife across Song Heping's cracked cheeks.