After leaving the marshland, they could see bright beams of light from headlights far ahead.
Needless to say, the base personnel must have started worrying when they saw so many high-ranking staff officers hadn't returned.
To prevent detection by the Iranians, Qusay had ordered the radio turned off after entering the marshland, which consequently made these people frantic.
In the pitch black, they couldn't search deep into the marshland and could only wait here.
Hearing the familiar roar of engines, they widened their eyes as the familiar silhouettes of the T-62 Tanks and Type 63 Armored Vehicles reappeared in their sight.
"Second Young Master, you're finally back! I was so worried." Ghassar said upon seeing Qusay climb out of the armored vehicle. If anything happened to the Second Young Master, the Madam would never forgive him. Although Ghassar knew he was just a humble servant and couldn't possibly guarantee the Second Young Master's safety, he still had to bear that responsibility.
"Mhm, Ghassar, don't worry. Prepare the bathwater. When we get back, I'll take a shower first," Qusay said.
After separating from Muhammad, Qusay returned to the house prepared for him.
Although it wasn't a villa, it was considered a decent house here. The original owner was the Chief of Staff of the garrison, and after the army eliminated him, everything was nationalized. The Thirty-Fifth Brigade had already sent a team of people to guard it.
"Change to a less conspicuous place tomorrow. It's not safe here," Qusay said.
"Yes, Second Young Master," Ghassar replied.
Although he liked the feeling of living in a large house, they were currently in wartime and on newly acquired territory. It wasn't safe here; a bomb might drop from the sky at any moment, sending him confusedly to meet Allah.
Soaking in the comfortable bathtub, Qusay's body and mind were completely relaxed, and his thoughts became increasingly clear.
Because he suddenly thought of an aspect he had seriously overlooked: currently, the Iranian Air Force was at its weakest point.
The F-14 Tomcat had always been his biggest headache, but in the early stages of the Iran-Iraq War, the Iranians couldn't deploy many of them. Some were grounded due to lack of parts and were cannibalized to supply other aircraft. They were primarily used to guard the capital and other key areas.
The Iranians had no choice but to spend huge sums buying parts from arms dealers.
It wasn't until later that the United States secretly delivered a batch of parts to Iran that the situation eased.
The situation was similar for the Iranians' main attack helicopter, the AH-1 Cobra, which was the one he had seen.
The Iran-Iraq War vividly illustrated a principle: strong national defense cannot be bought. Under the Pahlavi Government, which was extremely pro-American, Iran possessed many US-made weapons, including F-14 Fighter Jets that even Israel envied.
However, after Pahlavi was overthrown and Khomeini took power, he began relentlessly opposing the United States, the Great Satan, and the Iranians' US-made weapons lost their chance at revitalization.
Maybe the helicopter he saw wasn't the last one the Iranians could fly? Qusay thought maliciously.
If Iraq was to soar and become a true giant, independent industry was absolutely indispensable.
In the warm water, Qusay's heart completely calmed down.
If there were no war, being the President's son would truly be comfortable! Qusay watched Ghassar's busy shadow, thinking that even in the military, he enjoyed such privileges, having someone look after his daily needs. Although it wasn't a beautiful maid, it was certainly a comfortable life.
"Ghassar, dial the Military Region phone for me," Qusay said.
In this era, it wasn't as convenient as later generations having one or even several mobile phones per person; even the brick-sized "Big Brother" phones hadn't appeared yet. However, there was a telephone extension in this bathroom.
Soon, Ghassar connected the call.
Qusay picked up the phone. The person on the other end was his uncle, Izzat Ibrahim, Commander of the Southern Military Region.
"Hello, Uncle," Qusay said enthusiastically, completely lacking the aggressive, determined demeanor he had shown at the Military Region Headquarters.
Hearing such an enthusiastic voice, Ibrahim replied, "Abdullah, how are you finding the Thirty-Fifth Brigade?"
"Uncle, everything is great here, except for a slight lack of equipment," Qusay said.
Hearing this, Ibrahim knew that this kid was definitely up to something.
"Tell me, Abdullah, what in the Southern Military Region has caught your eye? That kid Muhammad got lucky; now his unit needs new blood. But don't even think about asking me for the latest model tanks," Ibrahim joked.
Besides the T-62, the most advanced tank in Iraq was the T-72 imported from the Soviet Union. However, Qusay knew he shouldn't even dream of getting those tanks; there were only a few even in the Southern Military Region, and they were prioritized for the Tikrit Division.
"Uncle, the officers and soldiers of the Thirty-Fifth Brigade are already very satisfied with the T-62. They can even hit targets at a distance of 1,500 meters." Qusay praised them first, then continued, "However, as you know, the Iranians' Chieftain Tanks are very difficult to deal with, so could you possibly transfer some attack helicopters over?"
Qusay tentatively stated his request, and suddenly felt as if the person on the other end had frozen.
Then again, there was probably no precedent for integrating helicopters and tanks into the same unit. Even in China, the Army Aviation Force was only established during the 1985 Great Military Reduction; previously, helicopters belonged to the Air Force.
If their armored units could receive support from attack helicopters at any time, it would be a world-changing difference.
After waiting for a long time without a reply, Qusay had to speak again: "Uncle, I don't need advanced ones, just some Mi-24s will do. More wouldn't be useful; twenty is enough. We have enough space here for them to land."
The Mi-24 attack helicopter, nicknamed "Hind," appeared somewhat bulky compared to Western attack helicopters because it had a large fuselage capable of carrying infantry, facilitating coordinated operations. This type of helicopter perfectly met Qusay's Special Operations requirements: using the helicopter to locate the enemy's fuel supply points, deploying special forces troops via air assault to attack upon discovery, with the helicopter providing cover—everything would go smoothly.
On the other end of the phone, Ibrahim was already dizzy. In his mind, his nephew would only ask for guns, artillery, and ammunition—things that were easy for him to provide. He hadn't expected such an outrageous demand.
The Thirty-Fifth Brigade was just a resting unit, not a combat unit. Why would they need attack helicopters? And "more wouldn't be useful, twenty is enough"—did he think attack helicopters were cars? The entire Southern Military Region only had fifty attack helicopters, mostly concentrated at the frontline in Abadan. Where was he supposed to free up so many helicopters for him to play with?
"Abdullah, I really can't spare any helicopters. How about you discuss it with the President and have him transfer two over from Baghdad?"
Baghdad? Cunning Ibrahim, damned bureaucracy! Ask Dad to transfer helicopters? And from the capital? Who has that kind of clout? Forget it if you won't give them.
He knew for a fact that the Iranians were going to attack from this direction. Now, the Commander and staff officers of the Thirty-Fifth Brigade also had a premonition, but this still lacked sufficient intelligence. If he told his uncle that he had gone to the marshland and seen a helicopter, his uncle would definitely scold him for going there. As for the helicopter, among his uncle's hundred thousand troops, many had seen helicopters, so it wasn't worth making a fuss over.
Actually, Qusay had a small thought deep down: if he could turn the tide this time and completely repel the Iranian attack, he would gain more weight in his father's heart.
His older brother Uday was completely useless—violent and sadistic—and would never be a qualified successor. For the future of Iraq, he had to showcase his own talent.
"Well, Uncle, forget about the helicopters then." Qusay had to settle for a secondary request. "However, I need some individual weapons."
Ibrahim smiled contentedly. That was more like it. There were plenty of individual weapons in the Southern Military Region's warehouses. This time, that kid Muhammad would get a good deal.