In less than fifteen minutes, they disappeared as if they had never appeared. Only burning vehicles, bodies, four captives tied by the roadside, and chaotic footprints in the snow were left behind.
Lieutenant Crawford lay in the snow, listening to the distant sound of faint sirens.
His leg hurt terribly, but something else hurt more—the feeling of being completely defeated and humiliated.
They were not bandits.
They were an army.
And London knows nothing about it.
Same day, 2 PM, London, Department of Defense briefing room.
The meeting room was filled with smoke, and the ashtray was already piled high.
The wall's projection screen showed aerial photos of the ambush site on the A9 Road: three armored vehicles burned into skeletons, bodies covered in white sheets in the snow, and captive positions marked with yellow circles.
