In the valley.
Rose felt his lungs burning.
Every breath was like swallowing a scorching coal, the AN/PRC-163 tactical radio on his back felt like a red-hot iron, rubbing against his sweat-soaked tactical vest.
A piercing pain came from his right leg—a 7.62mm bullet had passed through it a few seconds ago, taking away a fist-sized chunk of flesh.
"Ten meters... to go..."
He clenched his teeth, dragging his injured leg forward with difficulty over the pile of rubble.
Bullets kept whizzing past him, sparking off the rocks.
He knew clearly that he had become the top priority target for the "Musician" defense mercenaries.
A bullet suddenly hit his left shoulder, causing Rose to stagger, but miraculously he didn't fall.
He looked down at his wound, fresh blood was gushing out from the edge of the bullet-proof plate. This piece of ceramic armor had already stopped at least three bullets, but now, like himself, it was at its limit.
"Rose! Hurry!"
A comrade's shout came from behind, immediately drowned by a burst of intense gunfire.
Rose didn't need to look back to know that those brothers he had lived with around the clock were sacrificing their lives for his final ten seconds.
He took a deep breath and threw himself forward with all his might, finally grabbing the rough surface of the granite with both hands.
"I'm up! I'm up!"
Rose shouted into the radio, his voice hoarse from blood loss.
Song Heping's eyes sharpened on the cliff top.
"Concentrate fire on that rock!"
He ordered into the microphone.
"Stop him from sending the signal at any cost!"
In an instant, at least six rifles simultaneously aimed their barrels.
Bullets rained down on the granite surface like a storm, with debris and sparks flying everywhere.
Curled on one side of the rock top, Rose clung tightly like a lizard, his trembling hands removing the radio from his back.
His fingers were already stained with blood, but thanks to rigorous training, he still operated the equipment with rock-steady precision.
"Mayday! Mayday! This is Green Berets, Team 'Crow', Seventh Task Force..."
Amidst the gunfire, Rose's voice stood out distinctly.
"Coordinates XX°XX'N, XX°XX'E... Requesting immediate air support... Repeat, requesting immediate..."
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three bullets hit his back almost simultaneously.
The first pierced his right lung, the second broke his spine, and the third penetrated directly through his back.
Rose's body jolted violently, blood spurted from his mouth, splattering on the radio display screen.
Yet unbelievably, his fingers continued to move.
Using muscle memory, he completed the final frequency adjustment and transmission procedure.
The green indicator light on the radio lit up—the signal had been sent.
"Mission... accomplished..."
A faint smile appeared at the corner of Rose's mouth, and his body slowly slid down beside the rock. At least fifteen bullet holes were scattered across his torso and limbs, with blood pooling into a dark red lake beneath him.
Song Heping put down his binoculars, his face ashen.
"The signal was sent," he said into the radio, "Execute Plan B."
Meanwhile, at Usseda Air Force Base.
Piercing alarms echoed throughout the flight squadron.
Two pilots—Major Anderson and Captain Williams—dashed toward the tarmac at top speed.
The ground crew had completed the preheat of the F-15E "Strike Eagle" fighter jets, the roar of the two F100-PW-229 engines was deafening.
"Confirmed receipt of the Green Berets' distress signal." Lead pilot Anderson said to the tower while fastening his seatbelt, "Heading 145, full speed ahead."
The two fighter jets accelerated down the runway, the small diameter bombs (SDM) and two JDAM precision-guided bombs under their wings shimmering in the morning light.
With the afterburners engaged, the jets soared nearly vertically into the sky.
"Estimated time of arrival 18 minutes," Williams checked the tactical display, "Hope they can hold out until then."
Soon, the two "Strike Eagles" took off swiftly against the morning light, piercing into the sky.
A few minutes later, just as the F-15E squadron approached the border, the radar warning receiver in the cockpit suddenly emitted a sharp alarm.
"Warning! Warning! Ground fire-control radar lock-on!"
The electronic warfare system's synthesized female voice urgently reported.