The meeting at the Damascus command post ended amid a tense and pragmatic atmosphere.
The plan is set, all that's left is execution.
There's no time for cheering or hesitation; once the gears of war turn, they can only be fueled by blood and steel, roaring forward.
Song Heping and the chef barely paused.
An elite team of Wagner guards and several liaison officers from the Silia government army were already on standby in the building's underground garage.
The vehicles were several Toyota Land Cruisers equipped with light armor and heavy machine guns, and a truck responsible for transporting extra ammunition and communications equipment.
The engines rumbled softly, the exhaust pipes emitting a slight heat wave.
"Depart, Halab."
Song Heping opened the car door, concise and direct.
The convoy drove out of the underground shelter, charging onto the streets of Damascus shrouded in the night.
The atmosphere in the city was heavy, checkpoints were everywhere, civilian vehicles were few, with more military vehicles and armed personnel being mobilized.
In the distant skyline, in the south and east directions, weak flashes occasionally streaked across the night sky, unclear if they were artillery fire or lightning, but the dull thunder — or rather, the more deadly sound of explosions.
Song Heping leaned back in the seat, closing his eyes to rest, but his brain was racing, repeatedly simulating various scenarios that Halab might face and every detail of the Otaba plan.
He had already devised a general combat plan for the Halab defense battle, but anything thought up in the command post could only be a rough outline; details must be adjusted based on specific situations after seeing the frontline firsthand.
The chef sat beside him, wiping his iconic short-barreled assault rifle, his face somber, occasionally glancing through the car window to the south, where his brothers were about to fight desperately.
"Song,"
The chef suddenly spoke, his voice hoarse, "If Halab can't hold, my thousand brothers crossing over will be like buns thrown to dogs, there's no returning."
He's referring to the Wagner mercenaries with those thousand brothers.
Actually, Wagner's remaining forces in Silia are not many; aside from some still stationed in Damascus for defense tasks, these thousand are all the forces the chef can muster.
Their mission this time was to act alongside 500 government army Special Forces, departing from the eastern side of Damascus when Song Heping and the chef left, arriving at Mismiye and then turning southward, passing Shekhan to directly insert into Otaba at the fastest speed, to raid the international mercenary camp and logistical assembly point there, killing the enemy to the greatest extent and destroying supplies.
As long as Otaba's camp is destroyed, the "Victory Front" attacking from the north on Halab will immediately feel surrounded and their support supply will fall behind.
In this way, not only will the offensive be restrained, but there might also be concerns about being encircled and withdrawn.
However, the entire insertion distance reaches 120 kilometers, which certainly isn't a simple task.
Song Heping's order to the leading Wagner commander was — avoid combat along the way, directly insert into Otaba!
To ensure the success of this action, the chef called Tartus, finding an Air Force senior officer who had a good relationship with him, allowing an Il-20 to take off and fly over the southern sky of Damascus to provide ground intelligence for this insertion force.
But even so, the risk factor of this operation is still very high; once the "Victory Front" sees through the intention, mobilizes troops from elsewhere to encircle or fails to successfully eliminate the enemy at Otaba, the insertion force itself will face the risk of being encircled and wiped out.
Yet, all military actions carry risks.
Especially when already at a disadvantage, without taking risks, there's no way to turn the tables.
Song Heping didn't open his eyes, answering lightly: "That's why Halab must hold, and must keep the entire main force of the 'Victory Front' tightly engaged there, making them unable to split their strength; otherwise, once they can split their troops, the insertion force will risk having their retreat cut off."
With this said, he then opened his half-closed eyes to look at the chef: "Chef, we have no retreat in this battle. Wagner doesn't, the Silia government army doesn't either."
The convoy sped along the main road leading south, the closer to the frontline, the more shocking the scenes along the way.
Even though it was already night, there were still more and more refugees fleeing north, their faces filled with fear and exhaustion.
After nearly two hours of bumping, the smell of gunpowder in the air grew stronger, the continuous sound of explosions and dense gunfire became clearer from afar.
Halab, finally reached.
This city was once the agricultural and trade center south of Damascus, but now has become a battleground akin to a meat grinder.
The convoy didn't enter the city center but drove directly to the entrance of a reinforced underground command post located in the north of the city.
Above the command post was originally a school, now bombed to merely ruins, cleverly serving as camouflage.
Just after getting off, a wave of sound and vibration rushed over.
The rumbling of heavy artillery shook the ground slightly, the staccato sound of machine guns like popping beans resounded not far away, intermixed with the rapid-fire of assault rifles and the huge explosions of rocket bombs.
In the air, besides the smoke, Song Heping also smells a faint scent of blood and something like the odor of burnt corpses.
A Colonel of the Silia Government Army has been anxiously waiting at the entrance.
Seeing Song Heping and the chef, he immediately salutes, his face showing a mix of exhaustion, tension, and a glimmer of hope: "Mr. Song! Colonel Yevgeny! You're finally here! Things are very dire here!"
"Take us inside, talk as we walk."
Song Heping strides towards the underground entrance, the chef carrying a gun closely behind, and the Wagner escort team quickly disperses, occupying the key defensive position at the entrance.
The underground command post is dark and damp, the large sand table surrounded by staff officers, with the sound of radio conversations, shouting, and keyboard tapping rising one after the other, creating an atmosphere so tense it's about to explode.
"Mr. Song, the Victory Front and the Islamic State punks have gathered at least two brigades of forces, primarily attacking the eastern and southern suburbs."
The City Defense Commander is General Jamal, one of the commanders who participated in the Damascus online military conference earlier.
His hair is slightly disheveled and mostly gray, his expression exhausted and brows furrowed.
"They have many tanks, primarily T-72s and T-55s, and even a few remodeled T-62s. Our anti-tank missiles are too few, the rocket launchers have a short range, making it hard for soldiers to approach, usually getting gunned down by their machine gun fire during the approach. Now, multiple points on the perimeter defense line are showing signs of collapse... our losses are significant... the rebel forward units have already approached the industrial park at the city edge..."
Song Heping steps to the sand table, his sharp gaze sweeping over the arrows and symbols representing the forces of both sides.