Chapter 439

Andrew Smith stared at the combat map dotted with crimson markers, his brow furrowed into a tight knot.

"Captain, let my demolition team handle this!" Sergeant Hank Miller snapped to attention, his voice hoarse. "We'll get the job done."

Andrew's fist slammed onto the table. "This isn't about playing hero!" He knew the lethality of this border minefield all too well. These weren't Hollywood props triggered by rolling stones—they were indiscriminate killers.

Fresh intel confirmed the enemy had deployed new composite mines. Stepping on one wouldn't trigger immediate detonation. They'd wait until an entire squad was trapped inside before initiating chain explosions—a calculated massacre.

"Hank!" Andrew barked.

Transport officer Hank Miller jogged in, his camouflage uniform still caked with mud.

"Double the supplies to every outpost. Full retreat before dawn," Andrew ordered, checking his wristwatch.

As Hank rushed out, five transport teams vanished into the night, each soldier carrying over 50 kilograms.

Sergeant Miller persisted. "Captain, at least let us—"

"Enough!" Andrew stood abruptly, the table shuddering. "I want zero casualties!" His words were drowned by distant thunder—an explosion.

Sirens wailed across the camp.

Andrew grabbed his submachine gun and charged outside. Three bloodied figures staggered through the darkness, supporting each other.

"Where's Hank?" Andrew's voice cracked.

The lead demolition soldier's face was a mask of blood, his lips trembling soundlessly.

Andrew led medics into the minefield. Moonlight revealed Hank's upper torso frozen in crawling position, his lower body obliterated. Behind him, a safety corridor marked by small red flags traced where he'd dragged himself through the inferno.

"Cap...tain..." A whisper rose from the gore. The last surviving team member clutched a mine detector, his torso shredded below the ribs.

Andrew's vision blurred. Another artillery barrage lit the night sky in the distance.