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The Contractor
Bombing and landing

Bombing and landing

The two Mi-17 helicopters flew one after the other under a vast dome of night sky, with the sea below showing not a glimmer of light. The ocean’s surface appeared like a dark, shifting abyss, ready to swallow them at any moment.

Inside, the cabin was cramped and noisy, like a small, overheated greenhouse. Heat mixed with exhaust fumes from the engines, amplifying the soldiers’ unease. A few African soldiers tried to break the tension with conversation but quickly gave up when they realized even speaking to someone right in front of them required shouting.

Near the tail door, Deng Shiyang sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning against a stack of wooden crates filled with mortars shell. He held an SS1 rifle with its magazine removed—standard safety protocol meant that all weapons on board had been cleared.

The ninety-minute journey felt like a nightmare. Even with noise-canceling headsets minimizing the engine noise, the intense vibrations only heightened pre-battle nerves.

But he made it through. At precisely 1:45 a.m., a dim red light illuminated inside the cabin, and Daniel Morley’s distinctively raspy voice came through the headset, “ETA, five minutes.”

“Load, safety on,” Deng Shiyang ordered through the headset.

Without waiting for Semler to translate, the men in the cabin followed his lead.

As a single-point sling would hinder movement, he set his rifle beside him, switched on a pencil flashlight clamped between his teeth, and undid the fixed ropes on one of the mortar launchers. He moved it to the floor and carefully removed the tape over the fuzes. Checking with the flashlight, he ensured all safety pins were pop up before flipping the box and hooking it onto the two rails of the rigged frame.

Just as he completed this, the helicopter began to ascend, now flying over the center of the Ezulwini Valley, passing over Kwaluseni.

The presidential palace was brightly illuminated even in the dead of night. Floodlights shone on its exterior, making it appear like a glowing white box in the black valley below.

Upon visually confirming the target, the two helicopters split up. *Arc Light One*, carrying Deng and Semler, climbed to two thousand feet, hovering above the presidential guard barracks. Meanwhile, *Arc Light Two*, carrying Mark and Du Preez, maintained an altitude of six hundred feet, circling the presidential palace counterclockwise.

Deng Shiyang unhooked the multi-purpose tool pliers from his tactical vest, gripped the fishing line at the back of the launcher with his left hand,then stick the thread cutting opening on the fish wire .

“The guards are panicking,” Du Preez’s voice crackled through the headset.

The helicopter’s engine noise had alerted the palace guards, who were now stepping outside, some half-dressed, looking up into the night sky. But apart from the sound from all directions, they couldn’t see anything.

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“Are we aligned yet?” Deng Shiyang asked through the radio.

“Hold on, almost there.” Sien’s voice trembled slightly.

At two thousand feet, it was impossible to see the ground below, but judging by the reports from *Arc Light Two*, the guards were on alert and preparing for action.

To confirm his suspicions, all the exterior and perimeter lights around the palace suddenly switched on, with beams from the watchtowers sweeping through the night sky.

“Damn!” Deng Shiyang gritted his teeth and issued a command over the radio, “Shoot out those spotlights.”

“Roger,” Mark responded, squeezing the trigger. The SS-77 machine gun fired at the northwest watchtower, quickly destroy the spotlight. Mark immediately shifted his aim to another tower and continued firing.

A piercing alarm sounded, echoing through the night. Chaos erupted within the palace grounds, as soldiers who had been standing in the open scrambled back into the barracks.

At that moment, Sien reported, “Target locked.”

Almost simultaneously, Deng Shiyang cut the fishing line on the launcher, and twelve 81mm mortars dropped from the box, vanishing into the night.

Ignoring the results of the first strike, he removed the empty box and pulled the frame back.Then he gestured to the back, and a black soldier immediately handed him another box with pre-armed mortars shell.

Most of the initial mortars hit the open ground in front of the barracks, while a few struck one of the buildings directly, easily penetrating the thin fiberglass roof and exploding inside, shredding the structure to pieces.

The fire and smoke from the explosions allowed the *Arc Light One* pilot to correct their aim. Sien gently nudged the control stick, guiding the Mi-17 to the left, then notified Deng Shiyang over the intercom.

Another twelve mortars soon rained down from two thousand feet, but their alignment was off again, hitting only the open area nearby, with none landing on target. Fortunately, the blast wave overturned one of the remaining barracks.

Drenched in sweat, Deng Shiyang loaded the third box onto the rig, pushed it out of the cabin, and waited for the “drop bomb” signal, but it didn’t come.

“What’s going on?” he asked over the radio.

“Too much dust down there; I can’t see the target,” Sien replied, frustrated.

The explosions had stirred up dust and debris, obscuring most of the palace’s front grounds, leaving only a gray haze visible on the screen.

Deng Shiyang frowned and cut the line on the launcher. After releasing the third volley, he ordered over the radio, “*Arc Light Two*, give me BDA.”

“Understood,” Du Preez acknowledged. He instructed the pilot to lower their altitude further to four hundred feet, then raised binoculars to survey the palace.

The guards in the eight watchtowers along the perimeter had been neutralized, and Mark had destroyed all the spotlights with his machine gun. The presidential guards had attempted to retake the towers, but after several bold soldiers climbing the walls were shot down, they quickly abandoned the effort.

Despite the helicopters’ limited firepower, the machine guns equipped with night vision scopes were highly effective, as the seemingly invisible bullets had a profound psychological impact on the guards, they were beaten so that they did not dare to expose their bodies in the open area, or even dare to shoot into the air.

After circling the area three times, Du Preez assessed the situation. Most of the buildings in the front yard were intact, but the area where the three barracks had stood was now a mess. The only remaining barracks was on fire, spewing thick black smoke.

He reported his findings to Deng Shiyang, who thought for a moment before ordering the team to begin the landing ground.

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Annotations:

ETA: Estimated Time of Arrival

BDA: Bombardment Damage Assessment