The frigid night wind cut across the vast desert in northwest Illinois like knives, lifting tiny grains of sand that pelted painfully against their faces.
Song Heping reached up to tug at his tactical scarf, shaking off the dust that had settled on it.
According to an agreement with a tribal militia they had first contacted, Song Heping personally led the team, choosing this cold night to quietly cross the border.
With him were Samir, Naxin, and an efficient support team.
The core of the team consisted of the silent and reticent "Sand Fox" squad, Persian special forces soldiers, along with some of the most loyal and elite "Liberation Forces" militiamen.
They carried limited basic supplies and urgently needed medical materials as they once again set foot into this ominously dangerous desolate land.
In a leeward sand valley near the designated coordinates, the scene was both grim and sobering.
The dense crowd clumped together, far exceeding the agreed numbers, at a rough estimate no less than a thousand.
A few dilapidated pickup trucks, motorcycles, and camels dotted the scene, accentuating the ragtag appearance of the group.
Among the crowd were a large number of women, children, and the elderly, their clothes tattered, faces gaunt, each etched with the exhaustion of their long journey, bewilderment about the future, and an abiding, penetrating fear.
While there were also quite a few young men with old rifles and wary eyes, overall, it looked more like a massive refugee group struggling to survive under the shadow of death than an organized fighting force.
Samir took a deep breath of the icy air, stepped forward, and called out in Arabic. Soon, an elderly tribal chieftain was helped forward by his kin, walking shakily.
The old man's cracked hands clutched Samir's tightly, like holding onto a lifeline, tears streaming down his face before he even spoke: "Thank Allāh! Thank you... thank you for still being willing to take in us homeless folk! 1515... those desecrators! They've killed many of us, burned our villages, taken our remaining cattle and grain, violated our women... we simply can't survive anymore... although... although we know you are backed by the Persians, and we had our differences in the past... but... but now we only want to live..."
Samir reassured him: "Elder, the past sectarian differences and grievances should all be set aside! Allah above all! Welcome to join the Liberation Forces!"
"Weren't we told this was all militia people? Why does it look more like a refugee camp..."
Not far away, Naxin, standing next to Song Heping, couldn't help but express his concerns: "This kind of group probably doesn't have much combat capability..."
This was meant for Song Heping beside him.
Song Heping certainly understood that integrating this complex, diverse group was an exceedingly complicated and challenging task.
However, this was just the state of things in Illinois.
If you want to recruit warriors, their families need to be protected, otherwise, no one would risk their lives for you.
"Naxin, this is not something you should worry about, your duty is to integrate the combat personnel, I will look after the elders and children."
"Samir!"
He beckoned to the busy Samir.
Samir hurried over: "Boss, any instructions?"
"This is no place to linger, quickly gather the team and leave at once, if discovered by the US Army or 1515 Armed, we're all doomed."
Taking along so many old, weak, women, and children, if a real fight breaks out, it's sure to be at a disadvantage.
"Understood, I'll handle it right away."
"Naxin."
"Here."
"Immediately dispatch a few Sand Fox squad members to serve as vanguard one kilometer ahead of us."
"Understood!"
Ten minutes later.
This enormous refugee caravan began moving towards the Persian Border.
Time was life; every second of delay meant unforeseeable risks.
They were just over thirty kilometers from the border.
Walking, at a speed of five kilometers per hour, they could cross the border into safety before dawn.
Song Heping had already contacted Avanti to have Revolutionary Guard personnel waiting to assist at the border.
Once across, they would be completely safe.
However, less than two hours after departure, the Sand Fox squad leader responsible for vanguard surveillance suddenly sent an urgent message through the encrypted individual radio:
"Eagle's Nest, Eagle's Nest, this is Sand Fox One. Respond if you can hear! Over."
"Eagle's Nest receiving, Sand Fox One, go ahead. Over."
Song Heping immediately stopped, pressed an earphone to his ear to respond, the tension in his heart winding tight to the breaking point.
"About one kilometer southeast ahead of my group, we've spotted unknown convoy lights and extensive engine noise! Judging they are not part of our unit! The others are moving at high speed! Over!"
The communications jarred everyone who heard it as a heavy shock.
"Samir!" Song Heping calmly gave an order: "Order everyone to halt! Find cover on the spot! Maintain absolute silence! Sand Fox One, continue surveillance, report details! Over!"
The order was quickly relayed in low voices.
The vast desert plunged into an eerie silence, only the icy wind's wailing over the tops of the dunes sounded, like the cries of the dead.
Thousands crouched or lay behind the cold dunes in panic, even the children's cries were stifled by adults, as an oppressive tension and fear filled the air, as if at any moment, devastating artillery fire could tear open the night and rain down mercilessly.
Minutes later, in this unbearable stillness, Sand Fox One's voice came again.
This time, there was a hint of evident perplexity: "Eagle's Nest, Eagle's Nest. Something is... peculiar. The other convoy doesn't seem to be heading directly toward us. They're moving northeast, and... and there's the sound of intense gunfire coming through! I repeat, there's gunfire! They seem to be in pursuit of something, or... they're being attacked by something? Over!"