"You were only equipped for reconnaissance and didn't bring any laser designation gear—how are you planning to provide ground-based laser guidance for precision strikes?"
Christensen's question cut straight to the point.
Penetrating deep into enemy-held territory under extremely poor communications conditions to provide ground-based guidance for precision strikes was indeed a task often undertaken by special forces.
But Murphy's team was on an SR mission—they weren't carrying any laser target designators.
Theoretically, this made the mission impossible.
However, since Murphy had brought up ground laser guidance, he must've already found a way to resolve the equipment issue. He was merely relaying what Long Zhan had told him.
"There's still enough time. We can airdrop the equipment in."
"That may not work."
Christensen voiced his doubts. "The airdrop would be seen by Shah's fighters. It wouldn't just give away your position—it could also alert Shah and prompt him to relocate."
"We don't have to drop it where we are," Murphy replied. "The Healy waypoint, two kilometers from here, is a good alternative."
The recon team was 1.4 kilometers from the village, and the Healy waypoint was another 2 kilometers further out—3.4 kilometers in total.
Given that distance and the mountainous terrain, with Kadaku Village nestled in a deep mountain basin, sound from far away didn't travel well.
The Taliban in Kadaku wouldn't even hear the helicopters, let alone notice airdropped supplies.
"Is there enough time?"
Christensen was worried Shah might evacuate the village before they retrieved the equipment. Clearly, he was now fully convinced by the intel—and terrified that Shah would slip away.
"There shouldn't be a problem with timing," Murphy said. "Of course, if you can airdrop using a high-speed bomber, then it definitely won't be an issue."
It was a false lead from the beginning, and Murphy was selling it with absolute confidence.
"A bomber airdrop? Your imagination never fails to amaze me."
Christensen was stunned. He had executed countless missions, but this was the first time he'd ever heard of using a bomber for a supply drop.
Bombers usually dropped things designed to *kill*, not deliver strategic gear for field ops.
Still, strange as it sounded—completely at odds with conventional methods—Christensen began to realize it might actually work.
If a bomber could drop precision-guided munitions directly onto a building, then it could just as easily drop a cargo pod with a parachute. At least in theory.
Noticing the shift in Christensen's tone, Murphy knew he had struck a chord. Clearly, the major was now warming up to the idea of a daytime assault. Seizing the moment, Murphy dropped the final "bomb."
"Boss, based on our observational intel, Shah's *Mountain Tiger* militia isn't made up of locals from Kadaku Village. He gathered them from various regions.
I'm confident that if we can eliminate Shah with a precision-guided strike right at the start, the rest will fall into disarray without their leader.
A rapid response team can execute a Y-landing tactic—Taliban inside the village will scatter immediately.
Without a large force putting up fierce resistance, the team can enter the village to confirm Shah's body with minimal casualties."
(**Y-landing tactic** — A helicopter lands between 100 to 200 meters from the target location to avoid being hit by RPGs. The landing is deliberately loud and disruptive, causing panic among the enemy, prompting most to flee and reducing the intensity of the fight.)
The plan Murphy described—though originally suggested by Long Zhan—was actually one of the U.S. military's standard special operations tactics.
In many daytime ops, Y-landing was deliberately employed.
Whether Taliban or other insurgents, most of them came from poverty. Simply put, they took this path because they had no food, no water, and no money.
When faced with a life-threatening situation, most would try to stay alive first.
Fanatics willing to charge headfirst into a fight with U.S. forces were very few.
Especially those gathered from elsewhere—they had no emotional attachment to the outpost they were stationed in. If the leader who brought them there was killed before the fighting even began, morale would collapse.
Terrorists or Taliban fighters without leadership would be far more prone to flee.
Scenes of enemy forces scattering in panic at the sight of advancing American troops were all too common.
Some even dropped their weapons outright. And once they were unarmed, there was no point in pursuit.
Without weapons, they were indistinguishable from civilians.
American troops couldn't risk opening fire.
And that was the point—U.S. forces *wanted* to scare them off. When the Taliban or insurgents broke formation and fled, they were typically ignored.
Priority shifted to consolidating forces and clearing out the stubborn holdouts remaining in the outpost.
Christensen had earned the rank of major and was leading special operations for a reason—he understood tactics.
His reluctance for a daytime op hadn't come from ignorance, but caution—he didn't want to take unnecessary risks or expend extra effort.
That didn't mean he didn't *know* what he was doing.
Now, all the biggest concerns had been raised and addressed proactively by Murphy. Christensen had no grounds left to argue.
And the looming possibility of Shah relocating had become a mountain pressing down on his shoulders.
Christensen finally gave in and decided to initiate the operation earlier than planned. He turned to Murphy and said, "I'll dispatch a bomber for the airdrop as soon as possible. Your team can move out ahead of schedule.
I'll need time to adjust the operation plan.
I don't care how you do it—just make sure Shah stays in Kadaku Village for the next three hours.
Even if it means blowing your cover and taking direct action—you must hold him there."
Christensen was ready to take a gamble—and at the same time, he gave Murphy's team a brutal assignment. His tone left no room for discussion.
Murphy replied without hesitation, "Roger that. We will complete the mission."
After all, the intel was fabricated to begin with. The real goal was to launch the operation *before* nightfall. Dragging it out for three hours would only take them to 3:00 p.m.—there was still plenty of daylight.
Completing the mission? Piece of cake.