Black-Haired Internal Revenue Service SWAT Agent - Chapter 341



Only Noblemtl
Read Novel Noblemtl

Side Story 47: The Day of the Decisive Battle

Miller felt some of the debris raining down on the ground as the mercenaries’ drone self-destructed, piercing his rig.

And from my experience rolling around in battlefields, I figured that in this situation, shrapnel might have lodged in other places that the bulletproof plate couldn’t protect.

He slowly got up, but suddenly felt dizzy and fell backwards.

The strong weeds supported his body like a cushion, so he did not lie down completely.

Miller tried to get up again, but stumbled to the right and fell.

And only then did he discover that a piece of drone debris was lodged behind his right thigh.

“shit!”

While he was checking his injuries with his fingertips, mercenaries arrived in the area of ​​the weeds.

Upon arrival, the mercenaries surrounded Miller’s final confirmed location just before the drone self-destructed.

Miller now sensed the approaching mercenaries without making any sound, only the rustling of blades of grass.

He estimated that at least five or six enemies were approaching from his 6 o’clock and 2 o’clock directions, and aimed the AKS74U in the direction of the enemies.

He held out for as long as he could, and if it seemed like he was going to be captured, he even considered pulling the safety pin on the grenade and blowing himself up.

The mercenaries moved much more quietly and cautiously as they got closer to Miller.

Miller rolled his tongue through his parched mouth and listened for any movement he could detect at the twelve o’clock position, now just a stone’s throw from the river.

As the final battle was about to begin, the sound of another reconnaissance drone was heard above Miller’s position.

He set his gun’s trigger to rapid fire, intending to fire 5.45mm rounds at the first enemy to appear, as he heard sounds coming from three places around him simultaneously.

His entire right leg was soaked with blood from the shrapnel-embedded right thigh.

Miller pulled the butt of his submachine gun close to his shoulder and smiled helplessly, thinking that he would probably die from excessive bleeding even if he wasn’t shot by the mercenaries.

Soon, Miller’s vision caught sight of the enemies approaching from the jungle on the other side of the river, approaching within arm’s length of him, trailing the blades of grass.

He slowly turned the gun in that direction and began to apply strength to his finger on the trigger.

With the trigger halfway down, if he had just added a little more force, the 5.45mm high-velocity bullets would have broken the grass stalks in front of him and rained down on the enemies.

However, just before Miller fired his bullet in the enemy’s direction, someone shouted at him in English from the grass in his 12 o’clock direction.

“Hey, maniac! Get down!”

The moment he heard those words, Miller threw himself to the ground without even thinking for half a second.

At the same time, a gunshot, like an explosion, was heard from the bushes near the river surface.

Tata tata tata tata tata! Tata tata tata tata tata!

Tata tata tata tata!

Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!

Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

Just as Luker fired .50 caliber rounds through his thermal scope at the cartel men, three RPK74 machine guns opened fire in the same direction.

Of course, we all knew the exact location and distance of the mercenaries’ positions through Strauss’s reconnaissance drone.

The volley of machine gun fire knocked down all the grass stalks standing right in front of me, and I watched the flight trajectories of the machine gun tracers before firing 40mm high-explosive shells at an arcing angle.

We had Trevor Miller about 20 meters in front of us, and we unleashed all our firepower on the cartel mercenaries about 50 meters ahead of him.

If Miller had not reacted properly when Soto called out Miller’s nickname (Maniac) that was common within the CIA SAD, he would have been killed by bullets from both sides.

Green flares flying towards the cartel kids swept through the underbrush, and only after the twelve 4mm high-explosive grenades I had fired had pointed the enemy in the direction did Strauss, who was monitoring the enemy direction with his drone, shout into the radio net.

“Wizards all call signs, cease fire! cease fire! cease fire!”

The mercenaries briefly returned fire in our direction, but Strauss’s recon drone hovering over the enemy’s heads did not see any of them.

They would all have either fallen to the ground in a ball of bullets or run away.

Soon, Decker, who had fitted a new 70-round drum magazine to his RPK74 machine gun, whispered on the radio.

“No. 1 (Dekker) and No. 3 (Bill Soto) will secure the package (Trevor Miller)! Everyone, cover!”

“Razor that!”

“Razor!”

I followed the two people ahead and whispered into the wireless network.

“Wizard Zero will move together to guard the left and right flanks of 1 and 3!”

As soon as Soto heard what I said, he motioned for me to stop and just stay still.

But I shook my head and followed behind them.

Moments later, Strauss sent our drone to Miller’s location, and the radio transmission from Strauss continued.

“The package is in good condition! It’s waving its hand towards our drone!”

As soon as he heard that, Soto shouted in front of us.

“Maniac! Friendly! Friendly! Don’t shoot, you crazy maniac!”

Miller responded immediately to those words.

“Your cheap cigars stink from here! And didn’t you say that if I called you a maniac you’d blow my jaw off?”

The moment I heard Miller’s voice, I felt an adrenaline rush through my chest.

When you saved me, did our uncles feel the same way?

So, Team Leader Decker set up our company to solely do rescue work, so that we could continue doing this kind of work?

By the time the recon drone flew into the jungle and entered the perimeter, we had reached Sergeant Miller’s side.

While Decker and Soto approached him and administered first aid, I hovered around them, keeping a lookout.

Soon, Decker and Soto lifted Miller up by attaching him to either side.

Then they started moving towards the river and I followed them, keeping a lookout towards the jungle behind them.

At that moment, Miller spoke from behind me, and I just laughed in the midst of this sudden situation.

“Hey, Kim! What the hell are you doing out in the fucking jungle? I just rescued you from a Mexican cartel den, and now you’re walking into a Colombian cartel den?”

I looked over his shoulder and saw Mr. Miller’s face looking at me over his shoulder.

Among the ISIS forces operating on the border of Syria and Iraq, the bravest man in the world, nicknamed “God’s Sentence,” and recipient of the Congressional Medal of Honor, was smiling at me for the first time.

* * *

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * Baca Novel Korean * *
* * * Noblemtl dot com * * *
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Strauss called in the first drone, which had its battery drained, and sent out a second reconnaissance drone.

His drone monitored the area around the battle zone and the river where we were positioned.

Often, when a drone detects something suspicious, a Canadian sniper, Rooker, will fly in with a .50 caliber sniper round to target the area.

Meanwhile, we waited for our means of escape that would allow us to escape the Frontino Jungle area.

“Wizard One! Citadel One, E,T,A, 6 minutes ago! What’s the C-Trap (status report) at the LZ (Landing Zone)?”

At the pilot’s words, Decker glances at the distant engagement point, still smoking from the high explosives I had fired, and responds.

“The LZ area is all clear, Citadel One!”

“Razor, Wizard One! Citadel One is sailing south on the surface of the Santa Rita River as scheduled!”

“Razor that, Citadel One!”

From a distance, we begin to hear the sound of our means of evacuation flying in.

Meanwhile, Soto, with O’Connor’s assistance, administered additional first aid to Sergeant Miller’s wounds.

Then, he takes out a cigar and gives it to Miller, who takes it and puts it in his plate carrier and says to Soto.

“Thanks, but let’s light this right after we get out of this damn jungle, Amigo.”

“Or so~.”

Soto and O’Connor went into alert mode, pointing their guns upstream and downstream.

I sat next to Decker, keeping watch over the jungle area on the other side of the river where Strauss and Rooker were watching.

A peaceful moment continues, with only the sound of the river flowing and the chirping of insects in the grass to be heard.

And amidst the peaceful sounds of nature, the distinct sound of aircraft is heard.

“Citadel One, ETA 3 minutes to LZ point!”

Our means of evacuation, with the call sign Citadel One, is not a helicopter.

Citadel One is an eight-seat seaplane with a buoyant canoe-like component called a “float” mounted on the lower part of the fuselage in place of the landing gear.

To begin with, the lower reaches of the Santa Rita River and the south were impossible to infiltrate by helicopter because of government forces and cartel thugs.

Additionally, the upper reaches of the Santa Rita River and the northern reaches of the Frontino Jungle were vast jungles and mountainous areas that could not be penetrated without US special operations helicopters with aerial refueling capabilities.

So we caught them off guard and used a seaplane that our company had chartered instead of a helicopter.

Of course, our seaplane was a special aircraft equipped with various terrain detection equipment and low-altitude nighttime penetration capabilities, unlike the typical seaplanes that carry tourists around the Florida coast or Lake Michigan.

And the man piloting that special infiltration craft is another SEAL team member, a monster sniper named Joe Preston.

He came to Colombian territorial waters on a large barge that had set sail from the coast of Panama while we were trudging through this jungle of filth.

Then, to coincide with our departure, we forced a night infiltration flight in a seaplane.

Little did anyone know that my decision to bring Preston into our IRS SWAT team, over the objections of other old men, would later help save our lives.

Although, later on, because of his OCD, we had to double or triple check that the airplane doors were closed before the plane could take off.

“Citadel One, ETA 1 minute to LZ point!”

As soon as he heard Preston’s voice, Soto climbed into the Zodiac inflatable boat and pulled the motor starter cord.

Booooooooo!

The motor started at once, and I, Mr. Decker, and O’Connor rose from our guard positions.

When the seaplane arrived at our location, we were to get the injured Sergeant Miller onto the plane first.

Even before Preston’s next report, the river surface was already echoing with the sound of light aircraft engines.

Finally, I’m going home.

I can’t let my guard down yet, but I’m still encouraged by the thought that if I do well, I’ll be able to get out of that neighborhood of drug dealers without any trouble.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Suddenly, Rooker’s sniper rifle opened fire behind us.

Immediately afterwards, Strauss’s voice is heard over the wireless network.

“There was a guy shooting a targeting laser into the air from the jungle area. Number 5 (Looker) just took him out!”

Laser for targeting?

Those words made me pause for a moment, and I wasn’t the only one.

Decker, O’Connor, and even Soto, who is holding the rudder of the rubber boat, look at each other with strange expressions.

At that time, we saw Preston’s seaplane approaching like a huge boat after landing on the river surface at 2 o’clock, 160-170 meters from our position.

The black-painted light aircraft flew in with its navigation lights and all cockpit lights turned off, so it could not be seen with the naked eye.

We need to get on that plane right now and get out of this horrible situation, this horrible jungle.

However, our ominous feeling is, as always, spot-on.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Rooker fires his sniper rifle repeatedly, and Strauss’s voice is heard urgently.

“The cartel guys who retreated to the jungle are charging back here! Three of them, including an RPG7 shooter, appeared and number 5 subdued one of them!”

Decker motioned for O’Connor to come over and help Strauss and his men, and O’Connor, holding an RPK74 machine gun, got out of the boat and ran towards them.

I was in waist-deep water trying to push the dinghy out to the middle of the river, and I was staring at Decker without moving just in case.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Again, the roar of Luke’s sniper rifle rang out, and now a seaplane floated down to within 60-70 meters of our position.

The propeller at the front of the light aircraft was spinning as if in idle mode, and the large aircraft supported by two floats was approaching along the river flowing south.

However, Team Leader Decker still doesn’t say anything and just looks around the surrounding skies.

Even Sergeant Miller, slightly dazed from a morphine hit, is inside the boat, picking up his gun and scanning the area.

A moment later, I realized the awkward situation was coming to me as Decker shouted over the radio that he had found something he had been looking for for a long time.

“Their choppers are coming from the south! Citadel One, get out of the LZ! Get out, now!”

As soon as Decker’s warning was transmitted, the sound of the seaplane’s engine grew louder and water spray spread in all directions.

The light aircraft piloted by Preston passed over our position, its engines revved up to take off quickly from the river surface into the night sky.

However, a searchlight is visible over the southern side of the river where our seaplane is heading.

As I scanned the river surface, I caught sight of two Jet Ranger helicopters approaching.

Oh, shit, I’m screwed!

Read Novel Noblemtl
Read Novel Noblemtl