A massive roar echoed in his ears, followed by the sensation of a powerful gust of wind blowing toward him.
Qusay snapped awake instantly. He didn't know when he had actually fallen asleep. Turning his head, he saw a massive helicopter landing right beside him.
With two massive rotors at the front and back, and a waterproof lower design for water takeoffs and landings, finished in dark green military camouflage—wasn't this a Chinook?
Qusay was as excited as if he were seeing his bride-to-be.
Looking over, he saw that Marwan had also fallen asleep at some point. He immediately gave him a sharp pinch; if he stayed asleep, he might blow their cover in a moment.
After waiting all night, he had thought they'd failed. Who would have guessed that as soon as dawn broke, the target would deliver itself right to them?
The remaining soldiers crawling in the grass swallowed hard in excitement. The captain's plan really worked.
"Nierhe, hold on," Hades whispered. "The helicopter is here. We'll be rescued soon."
Due to excessive blood loss, Nierhe's face had turned pale. He was holding on purely by sheer will. Who would have thought they'd actually see a helicopter?
According to the prearranged plan, they began to use the cover of the reed beds to slowly approach the helicopter from the rear.
Sihadesang steadily landed the helicopter next to the crashed Cobra and waved to the two compatriots not far away.
"Thank allah, save my brother!" Qusay stood up and shouted loudly.
As Marwan was helped up, the blood-red stain on his chest was clearly visible, looking gruesome and alarming.
Step by step, they slowly walked toward the helicopter.
Kusnie opened the hatch. The lower half of the door served as a boarding ramp. He quickly stepped down, intending to help the two men on the ground.
Marwan was truly like an actor, playing the part of an injured Iranian pilot to perfection. If he hadn't known Marwan was perfectly fine, even Qusay would have thought he was supporting a critically injured pilot whose life was in constant danger.
Kusnie had completely let down his guard; these two appeared to have no flaws.
Kusnie was actually very willing to rescue his compatriots; he had just been being cautious.
He supported Marwan's right arm, exchanged a few words with Qusay, and they walked toward the helicopter together.
Only now did Qusay realize the importance of learning multiple languages. He had known Iraqi since arriving in this world, and he also knew Chinese, English, Japanese, and some French, but he didn't know a word of Iranian.
Having just learned a few phrases yesterday, he had to make do with what he knew now. His speed and tone were a bit off, but no major flaws were exposed. Kusnie thought he was just incoherent because he was worried about his brother's injuries—for example, he had already said "Quickly, save my brother!" five times.
Kusnie could only repeatedly comfort him, saying, "Don't worry, once we're on the helicopter, we'll take him to a rear hospital immediately. Your brother will be fine."
But this unlucky pilot seemed to have been greatly traumatized and continued to ramble incessantly.
Kusnie wasn't surprised. Pilots were the favored sons of heaven, but they also faced immense pressure, especially when shot down by the enemy; it was an intense psychological process.
After being shot down, many pilots would develop phobias and could no longer fly. Some could only return to the cockpit after psychological treatment. Only a very few could step back into the cockpit immediately after being shot down; such pilots were definitely aces who struck fear into the hearts of their enemies!
For these two, the best outcome after returning would be a transfer to ground crew.
Stepping onto the ramp, the three entered the rear cargo hold. Kusnie moved to close the hatch.
"Wait, I have some companions who need to come with us on the helicopter."
The previously weak and injured pilot suddenly seemed like a different person. He pulled out a pistol and aimed it at Kusnie.
"What are you doing?" Kusnie hadn't reacted yet.
*Bang!* A gunshot rang out. Kusnie was hit in the chest and fell. He died without even knowing how he had been killed.
At the same time, Qusay lunged toward the forward cabin.
Hearing the sound of the pistol, Qusay cursed inwardly. Was Marwan being a bit too bloodthirsty? Controlling the target would have been the best outcome; if everyone was killed, who would fly the helicopter?
Using the gunshot as a signal, the Sidewinder special forces members who were still approaching stood up and ran forward quickly.
Sihadesang knew he had been tricked. Hearing the commotion in the rear cabin and seeing the soldiers rushing up outside—even though they wore Iranian uniforms—there was no doubt they were Iraqis in disguise.
It was too late for regrets. Sihadesang pulled the collective lever, and the sound of the rotors instantly grew louder. The landing gear left the ground. He planned that as soon as they took off, he would perform a banking maneuver to throw the two Iraqis in the cabin out!
"Stop, land." At that moment, he heard a voice in Iraqi in his ear.
It so happened that Sihadesang understood Iraqi. He looked up and saw a young man in an Iranian pilot's uniform pointing a gun at him.
The Chinook was large, with a direct passage between the forward cockpit and the rear cargo hold. The area between the two pilots was also quite spacious, enough for a person to stand.
Qusay rushed into the cockpit in a few strides, wanting to control the pilot. Fortunately, there was only one pilot in the cockpit, saving him the dilemma of which way to point his single pistol.
He pointed his pistol at the unlucky pilot and said, "Stop, land."
It wasn't that he didn't want to speak in Iranian; he just didn't know how.
On the battlefield, one must strictly follow discipline and show no personal feelings! Sihadesang knew that if he hadn't sympathized with these two brothers, he wouldn't be in this passive position. He became furious.
Just then, Marwan also squeezed into the cockpit, and both of them pointed their guns at the pilot.
By now, the Chinook was two or three meters off the ground.
"Quickly, land!" Marwan said in Iranian.
Sihadesang looked at the two men beside him and then at the twenty-odd soldiers on the ground. He knew he had no more chances. He had only two choices: either obey their orders or take them all down with him!
A burning look suddenly appeared in Sihadesang's eyes. "Long live allah! Long live Khomeini! Long live the great Republic of Iran!"
With that, he moved to violently shove the control stick, intending to crash and die along with the two men on board!
Besides being a calm pilot and the captain of the Chinook, he was also a religious fanatic. In his eyes, death was not something to be feared.