Mercenary Black Mamba - Chapter 251
Jamal hadn’t forgotten his duties. Firstly, he had to protect his master’s wealth, and secondly, he had to increase his master’s wealth. The problem was that his master had disappeared after throwing aside the backpack. The items in it were obvious. It wouldn’t be that heavy unless there was gold. If the wealth landed in the hands of those b*stards because of his negligence, it would mean trouble.
At an early age, Jamal had chosen to become a terrorist because he was passionate. Thanks to his master, he had snapped back into reality. He had felt empty as though he had woken up from a midsummer night’s dream. Why did he believe that killing and torturing others was a pathway to heaven? He considered himself pathetic for spending eight years in a madman’s organization. Once again, he was grateful to his master for introducing him to the wheel of life.
Whether or not the Hind, which his master had defeated, sent an SOS to the Brigade’s headquarters, the Third Airborne Brigade was bound to rush in. Brigadier general Massud was an Alawites with a temper. He should be on his way by now.
Kindall B-zone was one of the routes into the valley. It would become an invasion route if the Third Airborne Brigade brought along tanks. Jamal was determined to relocate the backpack filled with gold.
“When am I going to move all this? Should I be thankful that the backpack’s safe since it was buried under those rocks?”
Jamal sighed at the sight of the mountain of rocks. The rocks, which had shattered from the ANO’s bombardment, shielded the backpack. His liver shrunk at the b*stards’ heated cannonade and accurate sniping. He was well aware of the Aloadin warriors’ combat power. He suddenly found his master rather impressive for destroying them.
Jamal took one hour to move all the rocks. His palms were sore, and his back ached since he had done so in a hurry.
He tried lifting the backpack, but as he had expected, it didn’t move. Even a donkey would have struggled with such weight. His master was certainly not a human being since he had run around with it on his back. He wasn’t Ddu-bai-buru-pa. The only way to move it was to divide the load.
A yellow light radiated when he opened the bag.
Jamal inhaled. It was the first gold bar he had ever seen. There was a vast difference between imagining it and seeing it for himself. The backpack was full of documents, shimmering gold, and stacks of dollars, which sum was inestimable.
Jamal unconsciously looked around. His heart raced unnecessarily. As expected of Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa, he didn’t care and had thrown the large sum away like it was a pebble. Where could he move it? His mind raced.
Aha! The raccoon’s cave!
He suddenly remembered. In Kindall D-zone, which was slightly higher than Kindall B-zone, there was a raccoon’s cave that only he knew. Last winter, he’d caught a raccoon, built a fire by the cave’s entrance, and eaten it. Raccoons were sly and chose the most unpredictable places as its emergency exit. To carefully spot the emergency exit, he had to smoke in its hideout. It was the only time he had truly enjoyed himself, all while living a life embracing messed-up virtues.
The raccoon’s emergency exit was inconspicuous and didn’t get wet even when it rained. It was the best place to hide the backpack. Jamal divided the weight into amounts that he could carry and moved back and forth. He managed to complete the task after crossing a distance of 700 meters, seven times.
Jamal, who had fallen asleep due to exhaustion, woke up to an explosion. The sea of fire and the dark-red pillars of fire, which filled the valley, had to be his master’s work. Jamal rapidly pressed on the camera’s shutter.
Familiar with the terrain, he climbed up the cliff’s side and continued to take long-distance photos. The problem was the severity of the explosion. Mushroom clouds soared endlessly, and pillars of fire filled the valley. Of course, the ground shook. It was an earthquake. There was a dam upstream. He grew concerned for his master’s safety. He desperately prayed, but the dam exploded. An unimaginable amount of water poured out.
His master was in the currents, which seemed like it was swallowing the world. Jamal’s reasoning skill vanished from his mind. He could only stare blankly at the currents overcoming the entire valley. There was nothing he could do.
“Master isn’t human. He’s Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa.”
Jamal gritted his teeth. Sir Ddu-bai-buru-pa was Allah’s apostle. Even natural disasters couldn’t break him. Who else could he trust if he didn’t trust his own master? Jamal captured a few photos and turned around. His job was to protect his master’s wealth and to wait for him.
“Hurry up!” Massud shouted into the communications device.
The leading tank struggled as it had fallen into a pool of mud. Two T-62’s were busily attempting to pull it out with ropes.
“Ugh, this damned rain!”
Massud blamed the innocent sky. He’d departed immediately after receiving orders to move quickly from the Presidential Palace, but problems surfaced everywhere. The Third Airborne Brigade stationed in Smad was originally tasked to defend Aleppo. Their attempts to depart the day before had been delayed due to the Muslim Brotherhood’s attacks.
He’d sent ahead two precious Hinds, but they had not been responding. The problem was the muddy road. A trip that would have taken less than two hours to Kaparja had extended indefinitely. Massud, who had lost two precious helicopters, was in a rush. In Black Mamba’s perspective, the plan to provoke the Muslim Brotherhood was a godsend.
With three tanks lumped together, the entire battalion had to be on standby. He grew frustrated since the advance was delayed because of the First Tank Platoon. Their primary weapon, the T-62, was causing problems.
A tank platoon usually consisted of four units. That way, they could move in two units and switch between offensive and defensive roles while on the move. Despite possessing four T-62 tanks and four T-55 tanks, the Third Airborne Brigade formed three units. It was due to a lack of parts and maintenance problems.
Massud turned to look at the BMP-1. It was a fighting vehicle that had nothing desirable in terms of mobility, transportation capacity, and firepower. Its weak defense was the only reason why he held it back from leading. Massud wasted time, unable to do anything.
The concept of infantry fighting vehicles had originated from the Soviet Union. The first product they had developed was the BTR-152, which earned the stigma of a metal can. The Western world and the Eastern Bloc had only laughed at the BTR-152. Unwilling to stand down, the Soviet Union had introduced the BMP-1 in 1966, which utilized cutting edge military technology. From then on, the BMP-1 solidified the concept of infantry fighting vehicles.
The Soviet Union had been concerned about their advanced technology leaking. Since the Soviet Union had been reluctant to send the BMP-1 abroad, only Syria and Egypt possessed the vehicle in the Middle East. The Soviet Union had provided the BMP-1 to Syria and Egypt for testing during the 1973 Yom Kippur War.
In the Valley of Tears Battle, allied Egyptian and Syrian forces had raided the Israel forces. The main character of the battle was the BMP-1. The U.S. had been taken aback by the performance of the infantry fighting vehicle, which name was made known in the Valley of Tears. It was also the reason why the U.S. had actively pursued the development of infantry fighting vehicles.
Massud was temperamental, but he was not an idiot. The enemy was a small number of elites, but they were strong enough to break through Aloadin’s Lodgings. It was obvious what kind of weapons the small special forces units would use. It was most likely RPGs and recoilless guns with a wide-area suppressing shell. He had no choice but to let the tanks lead to prevent any more of his subordinates from being sacrificed.
Five kilometers away from Kaparja Valley, the soldiers in the stuffed trucks were all forced to get down. While tanks and armored vehicles could climb the mountain, trucks could not. Over 1,800 soldiers gasped for air as they chased after the tanks.
The Third Airborne Brigade’s troops persisted through the rugged terrain and approached the entrance of Kaparja Valley. Massud, who had sent six tanks ahead, was full of confidence. The enemy’s combat power was strong but relative. RPGs and recoilless guns wouldn’t be able to even penetrate the T-62’s front armor, what more its side armor. It was a hindrance to the special forces units.
“How much longer do we have to travel until Aloadin’s Lodgings?” Massud asked the observer who sat on the cupola.
“We have 500 meters left, sir. We only need to turn the corner ahead.”
“Push forward. We’re going to run those b*stards over and crush them to death.”
“Yes, sir. Forward! Agh!”
A powerful explosion swallowed the screams of the front tank operators ahead. The valley shook.
“Damn, something’s happened. Hurry up!” Massud shouted into the communications device.
A mushroom cloud soared high into the sky. A problem would certainly arise. Six tanks and three infantry fighting vehicles emitting black smoke rushed into the valley.
“Wait, what is this sound?”
Massud tilted his head. A hammering sound among the loud sound of running tanks shook the valley.
“They must be in the middle of a battle. Driver, speed up.”
Massud sent down an order to hell.
Suddenly, the sound became louder. Massud shook his head. It was neither the sound of explosions nor the sound of the wind. Suddenly, he grew anxious and wondered if he had underestimated the enemy. Massud started shouting at the front machine gunner.
“What is this sound?”
“I don’t know, sir. There are no problems in sight.”
“Stop for now. Make sure to guard all sides. Hassan, send some scouts into the valley.”
Massud decided to be careful for now. His wariness kicked in too late. The grim reaper appeared right under their noses. The observer screamed.
Suddenly, a yellow wall of 20 meters high greeted the Third Airborne Brigade. Massud’s mind turned blank.
“Oh, Allah!” The front tank operators and infantries screamed in unison when they discovered the yellow-colored water wall.
“Mette bu a rabhi!” Massud yelled into the communications device until his throat turned hoarse.
The soldiers crammed in the tank’s cupola started chattering like woodpeckers.
After grasping the situation, the tanks and armored vehicles emitting black smoke retreated.
The marching line immediately turned chaotic. The infantries that were following them jumped everywhere like spiderlings. Several soldiers were crushed under the tank’s caterpillar as it reversed.
Kaparja Valley was shaped like a gourd. It had a narrow entrance but a wide middle. The currents, which had lost most of its momentum in the middle of the valley, regained its velocity near the entrance. The 300,000,000 tons of water was a catastrophe in itself.
Both tanks and humans moved very slowly before the approaching doom. Massud’s insides burned, but there was no way out. He could only scream like a mad person.
The water wall leaped to its feet.
The water dragon’s roar buried Massud’s scream.
A large mass of water moving at 150 kilometers per hour crashed against the machines and humans. The 42-ton T-62 medium tank was flung like a piece of paper. The T-55 also flashed into the air before falling upside down. The BMP-1 was not excluded. Rocks weighing between two and three tons, which were swept away by the currents, struck the tanks and armored vehicles.
Dozens of tons of tanks rolled around in the water like cans kicked with one’s feet. The soldiers didn’t get to scream before they were devoured by the currents. Kinetic energy was directly proportional to mass and squared in proportion to velocity. Whether the source of impact was water or a car, the material had nothing to do with the damage.
The soldiers were shocked to see 100s of tons of cars running at full speed. A horrifying display of bodies disintegrating into nothing took place.
The valley kept vomiting out a lot of water. The basin-shaped valley entrance turned into a lake. 1,000 soldiers from the armored personnel carriers and special forces units sank 10 meters below the water depth. The armored personnel carriers and 1,800 elite soldiers didn’t manage to shoot a single bullet before they were swallowed by the water.
The devil’s water, which swallowed the mighty Third Airborne Brigade in 10 seconds, searched for lowlands until it flowed nonchalantly into the region of Ad Dana. Nature was inherently indifferent. Humans personally interpreted these actions and made a big deal out of it.
There was a saying that went, a fire left behind burn marks, but water did not. There was nothing left in the valley where 300,000,000 tons of water had swept past. Aloadin’s Lodgings’ (Ruman) outer barbed wire fences, the remains of the burnt facilities, the remains of the explosives facilities, and 1,000s of corpses had all disappeared without a trace. The biological and chemical weapons storage facility, which had burned down, similarly vanished without a trace. The devastating remains of Berkut and almost 2,000 corpses were also swept away. All that remained in the open valley was a combination of rocks and logs.
The natural disaster didn’t stop at that. One minute later, the valley shook violently. The cliffs had been withstanding the bedrock’s fall. The cliffs couldn’t bear the shock of the currents moving at 150 kilometers per hour.
Several places in Kaparja Valley collapsed. The ground’s surface vibrated, and a roar echoed. The spectacular scenes continued, but no one saw it. No, countless dazed eyes watched on. They were the 800 soldiers from the Third Airborne Brigade who had barely escaped and survived the water dragon’s mouth. There was also another witness—Jamal, who had observed Black Mamba’s bizarre activities from start to finish. Jamal, who was a loyal servant, did not hesitate to press on the shutter.
Bonipas had called Black Mamba a natural disaster. It was a rhetorical comment, but Black Mamba had indeed caused a natural disaster. It was the result of sheer chance and coincidence. Kaparja Valley, which had existed for 100s and 1,000s of years, disappeared. The large sum of money and time, which Assad had invested in, vanished without a trace. There was a common saying that went, while humans plotted, the heavens were what made it possible.
Those who were affected by the Ruman plan were Assad and the CIA. Was it retribution for burning 15,000 of his citizens with napalm bombs? Assad received tremendous blows as Syria’s dictator. He lost the ANO and the special forces whom he’d placed high expectations on. The biochemical bombs, which he’d invested a large amount of money on, burned and disappeared. The missile field, which would be the cornerstone of the supreme Syrian plan, was blown away.
The Third Airborne Brigade, which composed of the Alawites faction, also disappeared. The mortality rate alone amounted to 4,000 people. The cumulative material and physical damages added up to a loss of 4,000,000,000 dollars.
The CIA’s ambitious Socrates Project faltered in its advancement. They’d lost their chance to push France out from the Middle East and didn’t manage to monopolize the oil routes. It was a bone-aching loss.
With losses, there were also gains. Black Mamba’s brutality provided Turkey and Israel with intangible gains. The threat of indiscriminate terrorism, including biochemical bombs, were circumvented. France had earned incalculable gains.
Ultimately, the beneficiaries of his actions were the citizens of France, Turkey, and Israel. If Black Mamba had not erased Aloadin’s Lodgings and the biochemical bombs, they would have been victims to the ANO and Horazan’s indiscriminate terrorism and biochemical bombings.
For whom did Black Mamba ring the bell?
Dong-bang-bull-pae, was he truly the savior, or was he Asura? Was he an apostle of God or the Angel of Death?
 The fourth Middle East war, the cause of the first oil crisis.
 “God, what is that!”
 Make an emergency escape!
 “Hurry and flee!”
 “God, help us!”