Northwest Illinois, 15 kilometers south of Bara Town, unnamed highland beside the highway.
The temperature has dropped to three degrees Celsius.
Jiang Feng slowly lowered the AN/PVS-15 binocular night vision device mounted on the edge of the periscope pit, using his right hand, clad in tactical gloves, to vigorously rub the stiff and aching muscles around his eyes due to maintaining a fixed observation posture for several hours.
Beside him, lying close to the ground, are Samir, the leader of the Liberation Forces, and front-line liaison officer sent by Abu You Brigade, Abu You himself.
The three form the highest command group of this mixed unit.
Behind them, and within the shadows of the hills stretching nearly two kilometers in an inverted "L" shape, over eight thousand soldiers silently lurk.
This is virtually all the mobile forces the Liberation Forces militia organization and Abu You Brigade can muster, a full-scale mobilization.
They are equipped with light weapons including AK-74M assault rifles, PKM machine guns, RPG-7V2 rocket launchers, 82mm mortars, and a few precious "Kornet"-EM anti-tank missile systems.
Everyone's gaze is fixed towards the southwest, on the number 7 highway connecting Mosul to the border.
Tonight, everyone's mission is singular — to escort Song Heping, codenamed "Ghost," and the nine-member Russian SSO special operations squad, assisting them to safely withdraw to Northwest Illinois and then head north to the secret camp in the Persian Plateau.
They have been lying in wait for over sixteen hours.
The limits of the human physiological clock are being tested.
Except for the never-ceasing wind and occasional indistinct barking from far away, be it wild dogs or wolves, the entire ambush area is frighteningly silent.
"Jiang."
Samir's voice is pressed extremely low, with a hint of undisguised anxiety.
"We haven't heard from the Boss for over seven hours. His satellite phone remains silent, and the last scheduled contact window closed three hours ago. Can they still reach the rendezvous point on time? Could it be..."
Jiang Feng turned his head and glanced at him, quietly sighing in his heart.
Samir has also been with Song Heping for over two years, having heard from his old squad leader that Samir is somewhat aspiring, hence he had given him some military command training.
Although later, Samir left the Musician Defense and indeed, with his abilities, pulled together a team amidst the chaos in Northwest Illinois and became the leader.
But by now, his military command skills and psychological qualities still fall short.
But what else can be done?
That's the difference between people.
Song Heping was only a sergeant when he came out of 203, but now he commands teams of tens of thousands with ease, while Samir, having been a leader for so long, has improved but not by much.
Easily gets anxious, lacks self-confidence, and still misses the big picture.
These are not learned merely by a few lessons or books; they require gradual accumulation of experience and lessons from actual combat, and importantly, talent.
Effort determines the lower limit, talent determines the upper limit.
"Stay calm, Samir. My old squad leader is no fool; his purpose for gathering all forces here is not just to meet up with them or to guard against possible US air pursuit, so simply."
Jiang Feng raised his finger towards the southwest: "Look at the map. Less than thirty kilometers west from here is the invisible border line. Imagine if the SSO squad barely escapes their pursuers, crossing the border with most of their ammunition exhausted… At this moment, if those Mad Dogs from 1515 Armed get wind of it and lay a heavy ambush on the other side… what are the consequences?"
Samir was slightly taken aback: "You mean… Boss thinks the 1515 Armed will ambush them at the border?"
"It's not a judgment; it's a certainty."
Jiang Feng said: "The Americans suffered a huge loss at Latamira, losing a vital chemical weapons warehouse and being forcibly driven out by the Russian Air Force. With their behavior, they won't just swallow this humiliation. Direct military intervention is too risky; the northwest is not their territory now and they don't have personnel there. So using the 1515 Armed, who have a blood feud with my old squad leader, becomes the optimal choice. Buckdadi, that old dog, will certainly pounce like a shark smelling blood if the Americans toss him a meat-laden bone and hand over the SSO squad's location."
Samir took a few seconds to digest Jiang Feng's judgment, then immediately raised a new question: "Logically, I agree. But the feedback from the dozen observation posts and intelligence sources we deployed near Mosul, Abij, Sinjar, and the border over the past 24 hours is consistent — troop movements within 1515's controlled area are normal, with no signs of massive gathering or forward deployment. If they truly were to set an ambush, according to the time estimate, there should already be advance units entering the preset positions."
Jiang Feng's brows slightly furrowed, this is also the only unresolved doubt in his heart.
"I also can't fully explain this. There could be several scenarios: first, there's a delay in the orders or information from the Americans; second, Buckdadi is hesitating for reasons unknown to us; third, which I worry most about, they might be employing more covert maneuvers and deployment methods that we have yet to grasp."
He shook his head, as if trying to temporarily cast aside these uncertainties.
"But regardless, I trust my old squad leader's strategic judgment. If he asks us to wait here, then we must wait here and prepare for the worst scenarios. His past battle records prove that he never fights a battle he isn't confident in."
Just then, a barely audible sound of footsteps accompanied by the faint noise of gravel grinding came from the direction of the communication trench behind their command position.
A scout, camouflaged with face paint, silently moved next to Jiang Feng.
He is the reconnaissance squad leader of the "Liberation Forces," codenamed "Mountain Cat."
"Report."
"Mountain Cat's" voice carried a hint of urgency, "Five minutes ago, our insider in Mosul City used the emergency channel to relay the news—around 11:50 PM, multiple important strongholds in the city showed signs of abnormal personnel gatherings and vehicle ignition. The scale... far exceeds routine patrols or small-scale deployments."
A sharp light flashed in Jiang Feng's eyes: "Confirm the reliability of the intelligence? Can you assess the specific scale and equipment?"
"The intelligence channel's reliability is extremely high. The insider believes this is definitely not a routine operation. More crucially, around the same time, our observation posts at the southern checkpoint of Abij City, the western exit of Sinjar City, and the main highway nodes of Tal Afar all reported witnessing several convoys leaving the towns, direction... preliminarily determined to be the border with Siria…"
Samir, lying next to him, swallowed: "They... really moved?!"
Jiang Feng did not immediately respond to Samir, and his right hand quickly pressed the send button on the portable tactical radio, his voice calm and swift: "To all reconnaissance squad groups, ascertain the specific scale of 1515's troop mobilization, main equipment types, exact marching routes, echelon composition, and final tactical objectives at all costs. Repeat, highest priority, I need real-time intelligence!"
"Reconnaissance Group 1, understood."
"Reconnaissance Group 2, received."
"Technical listening station activated..."
A series of brief confirmations echoed in the encrypted channel.
An invisible and efficient intelligence network fully awakened in the Northwest Illinois night.