บท 3: Chapter 3: Crossfire
Big Beard slapped the shoulder of Hansen in the baseball cap heartily, then raised his gun and began to suppress the gunmen across the street with continuous bursts of fire.
Hansen dragged someone up from the ground and started running toward the buildings on the left side of the highway under the cover of other US Army soldiers.
The person being dragged didn't look like he was from the military—he wasn't wearing a uniform or any insignia, just a bulletproof vest and carrying a pistol, his complexion pale as if he were a civilian official from the Green Zone.
Ding ding ding—
More and more stray bullets hit the car, reminding Song Heping that if he didn't leave now, it would be too late.
He decided to run into the cluster of buildings to hide.
As long as he could hide in those complex mud houses for about ten minutes, he guessed that US Army reinforcements would have arrived.
"Ah Guan! We…"
As he watched the situation outside, he reached back to pull Ah Guan but felt a hand that was wet.
A foreboding thought rose again, and Song Heping suddenly turned around to find his hand drenched in red.
Blood!
Ah Guan was gone…
Gone so suddenly, he didn't even have a chance to grunt, his eyes not yet closed.
A stray bullet had pierced the cabin and hit this unfortunate man's head.
The thin sheet metal of the civilian vehicle's body could not stop a 7.62 mm caliber warhead.
Watching his friend die right beside him, Song Heping felt a clump of irritation in his throat, which was incredibly uncomfortable.
Ah Guan had not had an easy life. In his thirties, he had been married twice; he had two daughters with his ex-wife and, in pursuit of a son, divorced and remarried, only achieving his wish for a son two years ago.
An ex-wife and current one, three kids, and elderly parents above…
Now, everything was over.
The pillar of the family was broken.
With no time to grieve, Song Heping turned to escape from the damned truck.
Just as he poked his head out, several bullets flew over his scalp, hitting the vehicle and sparking small sparks, startling him back into the cabin.
Bullets were flying everywhere, and in his ears, he could hear the sounds of warheads hitting the ground, boring into the soil, or striking the vehicle with a dinging noise.
It seemed like there were shooters all around him.
He had no idea where the enemy was.
Maybe they were everywhere.
"Damn it!"
Song Heping cursed coarsely to embolden himself, then suddenly sprinted out and ran as fast as he could.
You absolutely cannot be timid or fearful on the battlefield.
The more you are afraid, the more likely bullets will find you.
Song Heping didn't choose to run in the same direction as the soldiers from Country M.
They were running to the right; he chose the left.
The soldiers were the targets of the attackers, he wasn't, following Hansen and Big Beard was like courting death.
Song Heping felt the thirty meters to the buildings as long as three kilometers as he ran.
As he ran, he continually prayed in his mind to his parents' spirits in heaven to bless him!
I can't die, I absolutely can't die!
His brother had just started college, his sister was in her first year of high school, both waiting for him to send money back home.
If he were gone, they wouldn't even be able to afford their tuition.
If he were gone, they would have to depend on others for food.
Before his dad died, he had instructed him, as the eldest sibling, to act as the father.
So he couldn't die.
No!
He had no right to die!
Thirty meters, just a few seconds, Song Heping ran breathlessly.
Song Heping was lucky and successfully made it to the local residential area, hiding behind a wall corner.
Before he could catch his breath, bullets reached him.
Bang bang bang—
The sudden gunfire startled him, and he instinctively ducked his head.
This duck probably saved his life.
Several bullets hit the wall behind him, directly chipping off a chunk of hard-packed earth.
Because the point of impact was so close, the spattering earth stung Song Heping's face.
Song Heping didn't dare look for where the enemy was; instead, he quickly stood up and kept running.
Luckily, the houses here were closely packed, with less than four or five meters between buildings.
Right ahead of Song Heping was a household with a wooden gate.
Fear unleashed his amazing strength, allowing him to crash through the door, himself and door slamming into the interior.
Just as he got up from the ground, he heard the hurried footsteps approaching through the alley behind him.
The attackers didn't seem to intend to let him go, as they had already followed him.
There was no time to hide inside the house.
Looking around, he spotted a large water jug in the courtyard and quickly hid behind it without giving it much thought.
In a cursed place like Baghdad, where it hardly ever rains, water is a precious resource, so many homes have a large water jug for storage.
Water has one advantage, it can block bullets, so hiding behind the water jug was not a bad choice.
Song Heping quickly pulled out his Beretta 92F pistol, which now was his most reliable ally.
However, holding the gun in his hand, he couldn't help but smile bitterly.
The attackers were armed with AK47 assault rifles, while he only had a pistol, completely outclassed in terms of firepower.
A fight would be a huge disadvantage!
Fortunately, the courtyard was small, and in close combat, a pistol might still encounter some luck.
If he was ruthless enough, perhaps there was still a way out.
Just as he was holding his breath and waiting for an opportunity, the footsteps suddenly stopped.
The air in the courtyard instantly became tense.
Due to tension, beads of sweat from Song Heping's forehead dripped onto the ground with a patter.
Outside the gate of the courtyard, a gunman wearing an Arabic robe and mask, holding an AK47 leaned against the wall; he stealthily pulled the pin off a Soviet-made RGD5 grenade and tossed it into the courtyard.
Clang clang——
The grenade rolled into the center of the courtyard.
With one glance, Song Heping's hair stood on end.
"Fuck!"
He quickly curled up his body, trying his best to take cover behind the water jug.
Boom——
Seconds later, the explosion blasted.
Even with mental preparation, the shockwave across his face felt like a slap, causing a stabbing pain in his eardrums and his head filled with the ringing as if gongs and drums were being played, an indescribably exhilarating sensation.
The water jug, impacted by the explosion, surprisingly didn't shatter but was left with several small holes, with water hissing out of them.
What Song Heping didn't know was that he had once again narrowly escaped death.
Soviet grenades are notoriously powerful, but the RGD5 had a smaller yield.
It had a kill radius of only 15 meters and contained only 110 grams of explosives, primarily relying on shrapnel to kill.
If the militants had thrown a Soviet-made F1 or an older model RGD42 grenade, Song Heping wouldn't have survived without serious injuries.
Before the echo of the explosion faded, the armed militants had already rushed in, guns raised.
Song Heping knelt behind the water jug, not yet recovered from the out-of-body sensation.
The militant spotted the large water jug at a glance.
A sinister smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, as he turned the gun barrel planning to empty his magazine.
At the critical moment, unexpectedly, an unexpected event occurred.
Perhaps King Yama wasn't ready to claim Song Heping that day.
From the doorway of the mud house, another AK47 stretched out and opened fire on the militant.
When the militant turned to retaliate, he realized it was too late.
Bang bang bang—
The AK47 at the door fired first.
The masked militant was hit by multiple bullets in an instant.
At less than ten meters, the 7.62 caliber warheads effortlessly pierced through his body, chillingly efficient.
As the militant fell, almost as a reflex, he also pulled the trigger toward the door.
Bang bang bang—
Bullets flew across the small courtyard, dust billowing from the walls.
A few seconds later, the gunfire stopped abruptly.
Song Heping regained his strength and cautiously moved out from behind the water jug.
The sight before him was practically absurd.
The militant who had been pursuing him lay on the ground, not yet dead, his body twitching as blood flowed below him, forming a small stream.
Carefully moving closer, Song Heping saw that the man had been hit in the neck, probably severing a blood vessel, and blood was gushing out like a fountain.
Yet the militant, not dead yet, saw Song Heping approach and reached out for the assault rifle that had fallen to the side.
"This guy's really tough…"
Song Heping kicked the assault rifle away, feeling an inexplicable anger, thinking, do I owe you a massive debt? Why are you so dead set against me?
Watching Song Heping kick away his rifle, despair flashed in the militant's eyes, he gasped, tilted his head, and died.
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