The landing site for *Arc Light One* was on the west wing of the presidential mansion—a spacious rooftop with a fire exit door leading into the main building.
As soon as the helicopter’s landing gear touched down, Deng Shiyang grabbed an RPG-7 rocket launcher and jumped out, followed closely by an African soldier carrying a backpack full of rockets and another loaded RPG-7 rocket launcher.
Deng Shiyang ran a few steps to keep the exhaust clear of the landing area. Dropping to one knee, he pick up the rocket launcher, using the PGN-1 night vision sight on the launcher to focus on the fire door, and pulled the trigger. A 20-foot-long jet of flame burst from the back of the launcher as a PG-7VS rocket shot out, striking the steel door and blasting a four-inch hole in it.
The black soldier knelt beside him, took out the PG-7VS rocket from his backpack and placed it on the ground. He removed the cylindrical protective shell that protected the rocket and propellant cartridge, removed the protective cap of the warhead fuze, and installed the propellant cartridge on the tail of the rocket. Then handed the loaded rocket launcher to Deng Shiyang, and took the empty launcher from Deng Shiyang for loading.The second shot quickly flew over with a faint trail of smoke, hitting the upper left corner of the fire door, deforming the entire door and blowing off a section of the door frame that was connected to the hinges. The third shot missed slightly, striking the wall beside the door and leaving a crater the size of a washbasin, exposing the steel reinforcement inside.
Under continuous bombardment by rockets, the fire door was twisted and battered, resembling a crumpled postcard. It now bent inward at an exaggerated angle, leaving a one-foot square opening.
Suddenly, Deng Shiyang heard Du Preez shouting on the radio. Deng Shiyang realized something unexpected had occurred, grabbed the RPG rocket launcher, and ran to the edge of the rooftop.
From there, he could see a dark shape near the mansion entrance, moving onto the lawn, firing at Du Preez’s team and pinning them down behind palm trees and on the ground.
At this time, the black shadow was suddenly hit. Several clouds of gray-black smoke exploded from the front of the black shadow, and the firepower directed at the team also weakened. Deng Shiyang realized that this was an opportunity. He took the loaded rocket launcher from the black soldier who had just followed him, looked behind himself to confirm that there was no impact, and used the PGN-1 night vision scope on the rocket launcher to aim at the turret of the armored vehicle. The trigger was pulled.
The turret of the armored vehicle was hit, and a cloud of gray and black smoke suddenly appeared, and the fire power directed at the lawn ceased immediately. Worried the vehicle might start moving again, Deng Shiyang fired additional rockets at the engine compartment and the driver’s area until the entire vehicle was blazing like a torch.
With *Arc Light One* now heading back to base, Deng Shiyang fired the remaining rockets into the fire door opening and then shouted the order to launch the assault.
Several African soldiers carrying sledgehammers and axes rushed forward, easily smashing the remaining hinges, causing the door to collapse with a loud crash.The mercenaries first threw a few grenades into the door. After the explosion, they rushed in one after another. The sound of intensive shooting from assault rifles was immediately heard in the house. Deng Shiyang set down the RPG rocket launcher, grabbed an MGL grenade launcher, and followed them in.
They first entered a corridor, where the fire door had been blocked by two oak coffee tables and several chairs, now reduced to blackened debris. On the wall directly opposite was a large hole, clearly the result of one of the rockets that had penetrated inside.
The lavishly decorated interior of the mansion was now in ruins.The expensive decorations were riddled with bullets and grenade fragments, leaving ashes and debris strewn across the floor. At the end of the hallway lay a corpse slumped against the wall, dressed in a black suit, his white shirt stained red from multiple gunshot wounds.
Deng Shiyang moved forward and opened the man’s jacket, revealing a “Mini Uzi” submachine gun slung under his arm, confirming his suspicions.
Though outmatched in firepower, Ndofa’s elite guards were determined defenders. These “black suits” demonstrated unusual resilience, defending every hallway and corridor in teams of two or three, fighting to the last round without surrender. Others piled furniture on the stairs, creating barriers to slow the mercenaries’ advance. After securing the top two floors of the mansion, the mercenaries found themselves stalled at the stairs leading to the first floor, unable to advance further.
The intense fighting rapidly depleted ammunition, and some soldiers had to withdraw from the front lines to reload empty magazines. Boxes of grenades and HE rounds were brought to the second floor, replenishing supplies in the middle of the battle.
Deng Shiyang attempted to contact Du Preez, but received no response. Realizing the South African might have encountered trouble, he ordered Semler to establish contact with the forward team in the front yard and launch a full assault.
Semler took a soldier and exited the second-floor terrace, climbing down a fire ladder to the ground, where he used the shadows for cover, making his way to the lawn in front of the mansion. Near the overturned palm trees along the driveway, he found the group of African soldiers lying prone, along with Du Preez’s corpse.
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After reconnecting with the front team, Deng Shiyang instructed them to prepare for an attack and ordered Mark’s machine gunners to open fire and suppress the defensive positions in the lobby.
Tying a rope around his waist, Deng Shiyang had several African soldiers hold the other end as he climbed out the window. Wrapping the rope around his legs for stability, he hung upside down, descending along the outer wall beside the main entrance. He signaled the African soldiers to let out the rope slowly, gradually lowering him downward.
The mansion’s lobby was a square space with a row of floor-to-ceiling windows beside the entrance. The side walls each had a row of ventilation slits near the ceiling, covered with metal grilles. These grilles were made from steel bars about as thick as a finger, with gaps only an inch wide, too small to fit a grenade.
Leaning his head toward one of the slits, Deng Shiyang saw the interior was pitch black. After donning night-vision goggles, he saw defensive positions on both sides of the main doors, with guards armed with Type 97 rifles periodically peeking out and firing outside.
The stairs to the second floor were piled with chairs and coffee tables, creating a barricade that couldn’t easily be cleared without breaching equipment. Two large sideboards lay on the floor in the center, overturned sofas forming a makeshift barricade with five or six guards crouched behind it.
Deng Shiyang realized he’d made a critical error—he hadn’t attached an IR laser sight to his rifle, making it impossible to aim with night vision. He drew a flare gun, held it to the grille, and found that the muzzle barely fit through. Removing his night-vision goggles, he fired a magnesium flare into the lobby.
The magnesium flare shot through the vent, striking a marble column with a sharp clang before bouncing to the ground. The dim lobby was instantly flooded with blinding white light.
Deng Shiyang quickly pulled his head back from the window, signaling with a few tugs on the rope, prompting the soldiers holding it to haul him back up.
Flares trailed parachutes wrapped in strips of cloth as they rolled across the foyer,rolled through the lobby, igniting carpets, furniture, and other debris in its path and causing chaos among the defenders.
The sudden intense light left most guards dazed and seeing spots. A few were lucky enough not to look directly at it, but still squinted painfully. The most unfortunate was a guard who happened to be leaning out to fire; the bright flash stunned him frightened and overwhelmed, leaving his head a visible silhouette in the window, which drew a deadly barrage. A .308 machine gun round struck him in the head, dropping him instantly.
The light allowed those outside to clearly see any movement by the windows, prompting immediate suppressive fire. The guards in the lobby were completely pinned down, unable to raise their heads. A few braver ones crouched below the windowsill, raise the gun blindly firing over their heads toward the exterior.
Semler picked up the MGL dropped by Du Preez, loaded it, and fired six M680 smoke grenades into the lobby, then ordered the assault. He grabbed his rifle and led the African soldiers in a charge toward the official residence gate.
Mark and his machine gunners increased their rate of fire, sweeping every window with heavy rain bullets to keep pressure on the defenders, forcing them to stay down.
Forty yards, thirty, twenty, ten…
As they closed the distance, Semler’s heartbeat thundered in his ears, louder even than the sounds of shouting, explosions, and bullets whizzing overhead. Fueled by smoke and adrenaline, a sense of invincibility surged through him. He straightened up and sprinted forward, pulling out a grenade, pulling the pin, and tossing it into the mansion doorway. The African soldiers followed his lead, throwing grenades as well.
The flare had already burned out, and Mark’s gunners had ceased firing, but before the guards could react, over a dozen olive-green M26 grenades flew through the doors and windows.
A series of explosions rocked the lobby, dispersing the smoke that had been filling the space. As soon as the blasts subsided, Semler kicked down what remained of the glass door’s frame and led the charge into the mansion, marking the beginning of close-quarters combat.
Just inside the entryway, a figure flailed his arms and rushed at him. Whether this person was fleeing in panic or frightened by the explosion of the grenade, but Semler didn’t hesitate; he raised his rifle and fired, the figure stumbling forward and collapsing.
Stepping over the body, he entered the lobby, where the fire from the flare had spread to the curtains, illuminating the room. The luxurious Persian carpet was now riddled with blackened holes, and several gravely injured soldiers lay on the ground, moaning in pain. Their blood-streaked faces, lit by the flames, were contorted into grotesque expressions, disturbing to behold. Semler lowered his rifle and put them out of their misery with a few quick shots.
His magazine was empty, so he quickly moved to a corner of the lobby, swapping in a fresh one. Just as he finished reloading, he felt a burning pain as a bullet grazed his neck, ricocheting into the wall. Instinctively, he dropped to the floor and fired back toward where the shot had come from.
What happened next was a blur of chaos: he vaguely recalled glimpsing a figure in a vest and shorts darting down a hallway. What stood out in his memory was that the person wasn’t African; by the glow of the flames, he could make out pale yellow arms and short black hair.
The defenders, already disoriented from the grenade blasts, were no match for the heavily armed mercenaries, who soon took control of the lobby.
The teams on the first and second floors worked together to clear the barricade at the top of the stairs, and both groups converged in the lobby. Deng Shiyang brought down boxes of grenades, ammunition, and breaching tools from upstairs.
“Send some of the machine gunners to join Mark and establish a firing position on the walls,” he instructed Semler. “Split the rest into small teams to search every inch of the mansion. Even if we tear up the floor, we still have to find that bastard.”
Semler nodded and began organizing his men.
Though the remaining guards were resolute, they were overpowered by the mercenaries’ superior equipment, firepower, and morale. The African soldiers executed their movements with practiced precision, as if going through the drills from the training camp. They smashed door locks with sledgehammers and axes, then used machine guns to suppress any remaining guards, sometimes even firing SS-77 rounds straight through thin barriers to hit targets on the other side. Then throw the grenade into the blind corner of the room. After the explosion, rush in and kill all the enemies with the gun.
The battle became one-sided; the improvised furniture barricades were quickly obscured by smoke grenades and reduced to rubble by grenades, MGL-fired grenade, and medium machine gun fire. Guards armed only with pistols or submachine guns stood little chance once their cover was destroyed, and soon the mercenaries had full control over the mansion.