Song Heping, who thought he was very professional, quickly realized just how unprofessional he actually was.
A few minutes later, when the chef parked the car in the underground parking lot of the departure hall, Angel stood up and gave Song Heping a slap.
"You thug!"
Looking at the angry Angel, Song Heping shouted in his own defense, "I'm a thug? I'm a thug?! I—"
Just as he was about to question for the third time how exactly he'd been "thuggish" to this stupid bitch, he suddenly noticed a bright red lipstick mark on the crotch of his trousers.
What the fuck...
This ...
He was suddenly at a loss for words again.
This was like having mud in one's crotch: not shit, but might as well be shit.
The position he had pressed on earlier caused everything to seem suspicious.
White Bear was holding back laughter on the side and had already hurt himself internally, continuously giving Song Heping the thumbs up, which angered Song Heping so much he wanted to kick him again in the jaw where the swelling hadn't gone down yet.
Fortunately, Angel finally came back to her senses.
She had been scared shitless just now.
She took out a pack of cigarettes from her travel bag, tried to light it several times with her lighter without success, and eventually, it was White Bear who came over and lit the cigarette for her.
The chef came up to comfort Angel saying, "This is an underground parking lot; rockets can't get to us here, now all we need to do is wait here, I estimate that the attackers will cease in about ten minutes."
Because the US Air Force bases all have counter-artillery detection radar.
This stuff works.
Whenever the shells come, it can capture the trajectory and then backtrack the position of the enemy's artillery through the computer.
After finding the artillery position, the Airborne forces and ICDC forces based at the airport will dispatch ground and air teams to the location.
At the same time, the US Army artillery stationed in the airport will use M109A6 Paladin self-propelled howitzers and M777 howitzers to retaliate fiercely.
This is the basic process of defense against bombardment at the large Illinois US Army bases.
However, since the members of the Resistance Organization are also combat-seasoned and as shrewd as ghosts, having taken big losses from the US Army, they know about hit and run tactics and definitely won't stay put waiting to die, which results in the US Army's counter-attacks typically being ineffective.
Though they're often ineffective.
But the chef knows that this kind of shelling will last at most for ten minutes.
Surviving ten minutes without being blown up means you're temporarily out of danger.
That's why he drove the car in here to take shelter.
Having temporarily obtained safety, Angel was very angry, puffing fiercely on her cigarette, holding her satellite phone in front of the car while ruffling her hair and pacing in circles, and began making calls non-stop.
She'd just gotten off the plane and was immediately subjected to a fierce shelling, which caused her to be somewhat on the verge of a breakdown.
Before coming, Angel did have some understanding of the general situation in Illinois.
She expected danger but hadn't anticipated it to be this severe.
Once the phone connected, she switched to full-on rant mode.
"OH! SHIT! I just got off the plane! I haven't even stepped off the tarmac! And the shells became flying in! Oh!
Damn it! The coalition command still says they have everything under control here! Bullshit everything! This is Baghdad! Baghdad! And they can't even protect this place ...
this goddamn war!"
Angel's angry complaints echoed throughout the underground parking lot.
Song Heping hadn't expected Angel, the big-time reporter who looked quite distinguished and had quite a presence, to curse like a sailor.
Sometimes a beauty isn't quite what she seems on closer inspection.
Perhaps that's the idea.
"Oh, daddy!"
Angel halted her pacing, suddenly stopping and looking around with a wary expression in her eyes, as if she had spotted something unsavory lurking in a dark corner of the underground parking lot.
"It must be the people from Langley! They want to kill me!"
She suddenly screamed.
Song Heping, upon hearing this, couldn't help but cast a pitying glance her way.
The poor foreign woman was clearly terrified.
She had started to spout nonsense.
"It must have been them!"
Angel turned around sharply, her gaze falling on the cook and Song Heping and the others.
Song Heping quickly turned and went over to the patrol SUV to check the vehicle.
Although he had never been in love, he thought of a principle Uncle Li, the pig-farmer from his childhood neighborhood, had told him—a woman in hysterics was just like a sow that had just finished farrowing; you couldn't go near either.
Uncle Li was blind in one eye and also a bachelor.
Back then, Song Heping was young and didn't understand how a bachelor like Uncle Li could have such a profound insight.
Only when he grew up did he learn that Uncle Li had once been married and in his youth, he had his glory days of being vigorous seven times in a single night.
However, in his early years, he was bitten by a sow suffering from postpartum aggression, which had just given birth to piglets, causing him to lose his manhood and, consequently, being unable to consummate; later on, his inability to consummate led to his wife going insane and accidentally smashing a mirror into his eye in her rage, causing glass shards to blind him.
No wife, no piglets, blind eye, manhood gone...
Song Heping felt that even Liang Shanbo and Zhu Yingtai would cry tears of sorrow if they heard Uncle Li's story.
Fortunately, Uncle Li later acknowledged him as his godson, and from then on, Song Heping always had plenty of Uncle Li's pork to eat.
This godson did not take on the role in vain; when Uncle Li passed away on the first day of the new year, he personally observed mourning customs and provided the ceremonial water, ensuring that Uncle Li did not leave the world without anyone to see him off.
Fortunately, after a few seconds of thought, Angel finally realized that the recent rocket attack had nothing to do with the people in front of her.
Especially the mercenary who had covered her in an inappropriate place to protect her.
He had selflessly thrown himself over her.
If he had been the informer behind the attack, then he would've been the first to be killed by the Katyusha rockets.
Having dismissed her suspicion, Angel continued to vent her anger to the person on the other end of the phone.
"I will definitely disappoint those bastards! They want me to stop my investigation, but that's impossible! Just wait and see! I will expose all the shameful things they've done to the public..."
In the ten-plus minutes spent hiding from the artillery in the parking lot, Song Heping witnessed how a female journalist from the nation of the Beacon of Liberty smoked and swore like a fishwife.
These days, no one is more noble than another, especially in war zones, where beneath the nobility's elaborate robes, one might find they are teeming with lice too repulsive for words.
He was just puzzled about one thing.
Wasn't she said to be a famous reporter from the Washington Post?
What happened?
A few shells had scared her that much?
There was a big difference compared to the seasoned war media veterans from various countries he had seen in the Green Zone.
Like the mercenaries, some of these media journalists were organized, while others were like wandering spirits, freelance newsmen.
During exchanges of fire, they would rush in even closer than the soldiers in order to capture valuable news firsthand.
Clearly, with her courage, Angel did not seem like an experienced war correspondent.
If she wasn't a war correspondent, what was she doing here?
Writing travelogues?
"It looks like it's clear now; we can go outside," someone said.
There seemed to be no more sounds of explosions outside.
Only then did the cook remember the ICDC soldiers.
"Song, go call those Civil Defense Force guys over here; we're leaving this place immediately to return to the Green Zone!"