Chapter 15
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Operation Eagle Claw. 3
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A Delta Force operator's portable AT-4 rocket pierced through the sandstorm and slammed into the oncoming truck.
FWOOSH~~~~
KABOOM! BOOM! BOOM!!!
The truck driver, mistaking it for a recon unit's vehicle, had panicked at the warning shot and already fled into the sandstorm.
But then.
From the direction of the exploded truck.
After the rocket's blast, a massive crimson inferno—far beyond the initial explosion—erupted skyward with a deafening roar.
KABOOM! BOOM! BOOM!! SHWOOOOOSH~~~!!!
In an instant, searing heat washed over the Delta Force operators lying prone far away, firing their suppressive shots.
Colonel Jellico, watching the scene, spat out another curse.
"Damn it! It's a fuel tanker!"
The source of those approaching headlights was a fuel truck.
Meaning, civilians—if you looked closely.
In the end, Jellico had ended up attacking civilians. Now, he couldn't even predict what disaster might strike next.
He turned his head, scanning the surroundings.
Ahead, the exploded fuel tanker spewed flames as it burned.
Behind, the aerial tanker and the bisected Stallion helicopter were engulfed in fire.
Lt. Col. James, the deputy team leader nearby, said with a hollow expression.
"What do we do now? Not only did the helicopter and tanker blow up, but we've gone and killed civilians too."
After a moment of silence, Colonel Jellico asked.
"What happened? The cause?"
"The pilots say sand got into the air intake system and caused the issue. Stupid Navy bastards. They've spent their lives flying comfortably over flat oceans, so they're freaking out over some sand."
"How are the rest of the helicopters?"
"We've found another bird with similar issues to the one that malfunctioned. Looks like we can't get them airborne again in this situation."
The minimum requirement for the op was six oversized transport helicopters.
But now, only four were flight-ready.
Even if the mission succeeded in this state, there wouldn't be enough helicopters at Desert One to evac the hostages and operators.
And it was questionable if the remaining birds could even make it to Tehran.
Worst of all, in a scenario where secrecy was paramount, unidentified personnel—likely Iranian civilians—had already spotted the unit.
The plan to slip into Tehran undetected while the enemy was off-guard was now in ruins.
After agonizing over it, Jellico finally steeled his resolve.
"All operators, including the helicopter pilots, board the C-130s."
"Sir? You mean we're scrapping the—"
"Mission's impossible like this. No choice."
"But the remaining helicopters aside, what about our fallen comrades..."
The deputy couldn't bring himself to say "their bodies."
But if they'd been burning for over ten minutes in that inferno, even bones might be unidentifiable.
"We can't search or recover bodies through those flames. At least get the survivors back home safely. I'll take the heat for the failure."
Lt. Col. James nodded at the fury on his commander's face.
"Understood, sir."
He immediately took over and radioed the order.
All personnel, board the transports. Pilots too. We're abandoning the helicopters. Evacuating to HQ.
For Operation Eagle Claw, the operators had flown hundreds of kilometers—only to board the transports again without accomplishing a thing.
They even left behind five of the large helicopters they'd arrived in, abandoning eight comrades' bodies amid the burning wreckage of the chopper and tanker.
The transport carrying the operators raced across the dry lake bed, battling fierce winds.
RUMBLE RUMBLE RUMBLE~~~!!!
Soon, its massive frame lifted into the air.
The tanker followed the transports back the way they'd come.
In their wake.
The remains of trucks and transports lit up the area in flames.
Hours passed like that, until dawn began to break.
VROOM~~~!! VROOM~~!!
A half-dozen trucks, military vehicles, and APCs churned through the sandstorm toward the smoldering wreckage.
The site where the operators had already departed.
The arriving trucks, APCs, and military vehicles surrounded the burning transport debris.
A Revolutionary Guard officer hopped out of one and berated his men.
Move it! Find traces of the enemy! Hurry!
At his barked orders, Guardsmen poured out of the trucks and vehicles, rifles at the ready, and began scouring the area.
As dozens bustled about.
The officer approached the helicopters the Delta operators had left behind.
They looked intact on the outside.
But countless scratches and gouges marred the windshields and surfaces from piercing the sandstorm.
Seeing them, the corner of his mouth curled up.
"Dumb bastards. They got a real taste of the Iranian plateau's sandstorms."
He didn't know who they were, but abandoning perfectly good helicopters meant they'd bolted in terror.
Then, shouts from the searching men.
"Over here! Bodies!"
The officer whirled toward the sound.
Guardsmen with rifles pointed at a corpse sprawled on the ground, well away from the flames.
Half-charred, it lay motionless face-down.
Even at this distance, the heat kept them back—anyone alive couldn't just lie there.
Confirming the body, the officer sneered.
"God has delivered divine punishment to those who invaded our republic."
The nearby Guardsmen laughed and chimed in.
"That's right!"
"God protects us!"
"Everything by His will!"
"God punished the American scum invading our land!"
"Hooray~!!"
As the men grew excited.
The officer rallied nearby troops.
"There'll be more bodies. Gather every last one—bones if that's all that's left. We'll hang them, decapitate them, tear them limb from limb in Tehran's central square. Show the world what happens to those who invade our soil!"
Hooray!!
God is with us!
Iran forever! Islamic Republic forever!!
Chop the bodies and scatter them across Tehran!
The hyped-up Revolutionary Guards fired their rifles into the air.
RATTA-TAT-TAT~~!! BRRRRAT-TAT-TAT~~~!!
Emptying magazines in turns amid the frenzy.
Meanwhile, one operator scanning the area frowned at a small sandstorm brewing over the lake bed.
"A sandstorm that small?"
As he squinted at the approaching swirl.
Suddenly, crimson flames and rocket trails erupted from it en masse.
FWOOSH FWOOSH FWOOSH~~~!!
Dozens of Hydra rockets screamed out at supersonic speeds, streaking straight across the sky.
The startled operator turned and screamed, but the rockets—twice the speed of sound—overtook his cry, raining down on his cheering comrades.
"Enemy!!"
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM~~~!!!
Dozens of rockets detonated around the trucks, military vehicles, helicopters, and burning debris where the Guards clustered.
"Argh!"
"Where?! Aaaagh!!"
"Ambush!"
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM~~~!!!
"Take cover! Argh—"
The Hydra barrage ignited fires everywhere, thick dust clouds shrouding the devastation.
And moments later.
WHUP WHUP WHUP WHUP~~~!!
Roaring rotors unleashed a waterfall of downdraft, sweeping the dust clouds aside.
Where the dust cleared in an instant.
A Hind attack helicopter hovered a dozen meters above the ground.
Lucky survivors who dodged the barrage gaped up in terror.
And then.
"Wait, those are air force markings."
"Why are our own air force—"
"You idiot motherfuckers! We're on the same side! We're the Islamic Republic Revolutio—"
At that moment, the hovering Hind's chin-mounted autocannon roared to life.
BRRRRRRT~~~!!!
Thousands of large-caliber rounds per minute shredded the dust clouds, sweeping everything.
THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD~~~!!
"Gaaah!"
"Help!"
"You mad bastard!"
"Run!"
"Traitor! Trai—Gack!!"
The cannon shells poured down, ripping apart men, vehicles, rocks—anything in their path.
Helicopter cockpit.
Hovering, he surveyed the area.
Below, shattered trucks, APCs, and vehicles littered from the blasts. A few intact ones dotted the scene, spared by luck.
And soldiers rising where the dust had cleared.
Hassan's voice came over the headphones.
Revolutionary Guard. Looks like they rushed over after a report.
"Figures. After all that chaos? Ignoring it would be the real problem."
Over there.
The line of helicopters, and beyond, the smoldering transport and chopper wrecks.
Can't let them live.
"Valuable bargaining chips for talks with the next US admin. Can't let these mullah fanatics snatch US bodies and whip up propaganda. Grip it tight, Hassan. Time to dance."
Before Hassan's reply even came.
He banked the stick sideways.
VRRRR~~~!!!!
The Hind slid sideways like on ice, rotating sharply.
His trigger finger squeezed.
BRRRRRRT~~!!
As the 20mm cannon spat fire.
Orange tracer streams lashed the ground mercilessly.
THUD THUD THUD THUD THUD~~~!!
Where the tracers touched, earth erupted.
APC armor sparked and punched through effortlessly.
Vehicle plating tore like paper.
Bodies burst like blood-filled balloons.
THUD THUD BOOM BOOM BOOM~~~!!!
Vehicles that dodged the rockets exploded under cannon fire, engulfed in flames.
VRRR~~~!! WHUP WHUP WHUP~~!!
The airborne Hind pirouetted like a dancer, downdraft scouring the ground, then cannon shells raining on exposed troops.
"Run!"
"Devil!!"
"Argh!!"
"Guh!"
BRRRRRRT~~~!!!
THUD THUD THUD THUD~~~!!!
Satan's dance swept the area once.
Now, the Hind calmly hovered, overlooking the carnage.
In the cockpit.
Finger off the trigger, he scanned once more.
Then.
Keying the radio mic, he issued orders.
"Hassan."
Yes, Your Highness.
"All operators disembark. Ground teams: sweep and confirm no survivors. Secure the US bodies first."
Copy. All operators offload. Prioritize securing US bodies. Thorough sweep—no survivors. Not one.
Moments later, the Hind touched down lightly.
Side doors slid open.
Operators leaped out left and right, rifles forward, advancing swiftly into the slaughter zone.