A Man Like an Eagle

The men burst into laughter, and the oppressive, tense atmosphere dissipated considerably. The new recruits looked at Chen Ge with intense curiosity, some with eyes full of scrutiny and doubt. In the Falcon Special Assault Battalion, Chen Ge was the only foreigner—a Chinese—and the person with the most unique standing. The battalion commander and deputy commander, several company commanders, and a host of veteran fighters were all like brothers with Chen Ge. They had nothing but high praise for his capabilities and had given him plenty of nicknames. Hammer Brother! Artillery King! Kung Fu Master! A man like an eagle! He was called a man like an eagle because of his extraordinary eyesight, which allowed him to spot incoming drones from incredible distances. Was he really that formidable? Circlip, a new recruit in Assault Team One, asked the veteran fighter Piano in a low voice, "Piano, is Sledgehammer's gunnery really that good?" Piano slotted a magazine into the pouch across his chest, clapped Circlip on the shoulder, and said solemnly, "His gun can be used like a sniper rifle. I've seen it with my own eyes plenty of times—he put rounds right through the windshields of speeding pickups two and a half to three kilometers away. Brother, respect him, because on the battlefield he can save your life." Before the words had even settled, Trench, standing atop a pile of rubble, lowered his binoculars and swung his left hand forward in a sharp chopping motion. "All units, target is the Asphalt Plant. Move out!" Engines roared into life as tanks and infantry fighting vehicles ground forward, their tracks churning up black mud mingled with severed human remains. They rolled toward the Asphalt Plant, followed closely by Company Two, Company Four, and Company One. Company Three, having the largest headcount, split into two wings to thrust straight toward the mineral powder silos north of the Main Mixing Tower, cutting off any Ukrainian relief forces attempting to reinforce from the Champagne Winery to the south. Four 2S7 Pion self-propelled guns deployed thirty kilometers to the rear opened fire, delivering precision strikes against the upper floors and rooftop of the Main Mixing Tower. As the 203 mm shells crashed down, the sturdy structure—which had just absorbed a Kinzhal missile and dozens of 122 mm and 152 mm shells—finally gave way with a thunderous roar. Roughly ten meters of the building collapsed, leaving it under twenty-five meters tall. The detonations were deafening, sending plumes of flame and smoke billowing into the sky. Chen Ge could even see mangled limbs hurled high into the air by the blast. The three-kilometer open field east of the Asphalt Plant had originally been heavily mined by the Ukrainian forces. Last night, before the Second Assault Group and a battalion of Chechen Akhmat forces launched their attack, combat engineers had cleared a three-hundred-meter-wide safe corridor through the minefield. Yet the Ukrainians were no pushovers. The moment the artillery barrage subsided, they poured out of the basements and launched swarms of drones, diving en masse toward the Falcon Battalion. The Falcon Battalion had come prepared. Handheld Harpoon-3 and Stupor anti-drone jamming guns directed electromagnetic pulses at the incoming craft, while the machine guns mounted on the tanks and IFVs opened up at full throttle. Roars and rattles tore through the sky as guns barked and explosions echoed. Over half of the thirty-odd incoming drones were swatted down, but four FPV drones relied on sheer speed to break through the defensive screen, diving straight toward the lead tanks. Trench shouted anxiously, "Concentrate fire! Protect the tanks!" More than two hundred men fired in unison. Chen Ge blended right into the ranks, giving no one a reason to suspect that his shots were the ones scoring precision hits on the drones. Pop, pop, pop! His 16.5-inch HK417 barked four times. Four FPV drones were struck and went down in bursts of flame. He had actually hit three of them; the fourth had been finished off by the coaxial PKTM machine gun of a T-72B3 tank. The drone swarm failed to inflict serious casualties on the Falcon Battalion. The tanks and fighting vehicles remained unscathed, sending mercenary morale soaring as the push accelerated. "Speed up! Brothers! Charge and tear apart every enemy in your sights..." Before Hailstone could finish his cry, the 125 mm smoothbore guns of the four T-72B3 tanks fired in a unified thunderclap. High-pressure propellant gasses blasted from their muzzles, sending sheets of mud spraying in all directions. A string of explosions erupted across the ruined eastern perimeter wall of the Main Mixing Tower ahead. Holding the outer defensive line were more than two hundred Wagner veterans and over four hundred K-soldiers of the Second Assault Group. After a full night of fierce combat, they were thoroughly exhausted, freezing, starved, and sleep-deprived. Seeing the Falcon Battalion arrive was like reuniting with kin. Excitedly popping their heads out of the battered trenches, they raised their arms and cheered. "Praise the Lord! The reinforcements are finally here! Suka blyat, right now I just want to gorge myself on a pot of borscht, down five cans of meat, eat eight loaves of white bread, take a hot shower, and sleep for three days and three nights!" "Are you crazy, brother? Why not call two women over to keep you company while you're at it?" "Hahaha! Congrats on crawling out of hell, boys! Damn Ukraine, damn these trenches, and damn this rotten weather!" "That's the Falcon Hunting Team! The elite unit that raided the Klishchiivka Heights a few days ago! Prigozhin awarded them Platinum Star Medals in person!" "The Falcons are fierce. They ought to be able to take down the Asphalt Plant!" Under the watchful eyes of the Second Assault Group's veterans and K-soldiers, the Falcon Battalion bounded over the trench fortifications and charged into the eastern sector of the Asphalt Plant. As Chen Ge passed a communication trench, he glanced down at the knee-deep mud pooled at the bottom, then looked at the line fillers slumping against the trench wall—drenched in muddy water, their spirits entirely crushed. Reaching into the utility pouch at the small of his back, he pulled out a pack of Soft Blue cigarettes and tossed it to a young man with a gash across his cheek. "You did well. Hard work, boys. Have a smoke." A dozen or so K-soldiers stared blankly at Chen Ge, their hearts awash with mixed emotions. They had grown accustomed to days of contempt and scorn. This sudden affirmation and greeting caught them completely off guard. The feeling of being treated like human beings, of being acknowledged, shattered their defensive walls in an instant. The K-soldier clutching the Soft Blues pressed his lips together, his voice choking up. "Thank you... What's your name, sir?" "No need to thank me. I'm Konstantin, callsign Sledgehammer. Good luck to you." Chen Ge gave a casual wave, vaulted over the trench in a single leap, and pressed on toward the eastern sector of the plant, with Big Bear, Lightbulb, Manhole Cover, and Night Cat right on his heels. In the trench, the K-soldier poked his head up and watched Chen Ge's tall, retreating figure, murmuring softly, "Konstantin? Sledgehammer?" He tore the pack open, passed cigarettes around the group, pulled a lighter from his pocket, and flicked it on. A middle-aged K-soldier with a tattoo on his neck took two deep drags, blew out a thick plume of smoke, and smacked his lips in appreciation. "Not bad at all. Chinese cigarettes?" The K-soldier beside him adjusted his helmet, looking puzzled. "Why did I get the feeling that Sledgehammer looked like a Chinese guy?" Not an inch of Chen Ge's skin had been exposed. With his tactical balaclava and goggles on, none of the convicts had realized he was a foreigner. "How could you tell?" "His eyes! They're black! Even through the goggles, I could see his eyes were black. And he gave us Chinese smokes!" The men froze, all leaning out of the trench to stare after Chen Ge's back. The famous Falcon Hunting Team actually had a Chinese soldier in its ranks? ... Four hundred meters east of the Asphalt Plant, the Falcon Battalion reached their forward limit. Taking cover behind the rubble of the plant's collapsed perimeter walls, Ukrainian forces opened up on them with savage ferocity. Light and heavy machine gun rounds cracked and whined through the air. The Falcon mercenaries stayed tucked behind the tanks and armored vehicles as much as possible, extending their rifles to return blind, spray-and-pray fire. Whether the shots hit or not, firing back was what mattered. The stylish, precise aiming seen in movies virtually never happened on a real battlefield; exposing even an inch more of your body meant taking one step closer to death. Boom! The four tanks fired in sequence, knocking out enemy firing points one by one. Yet the Ukrainian troops kept cropping up wave after wave, their numbers seeming to multiply rather than dwindle. Clearly, there were underground utility trenches beneath the perimeter wall area! Ice Man signaled with his hand and yelled, "Suppressing fire! Assault Groups One, Two, and Three, on me!"