The ancient city of Palmyra is very small, with a population of only more than 10,000. It is an oasis in the desert that once flourished for a while due to the exchange of many civilizations. Now, this small town is devastated by war.

Syria is suffering from war, and the result is entirely caused by the Syrians themselves and is not worthy of sympathy at all. They think that overthrowing the Assad government can bring about a better life, but they don’t know what it means to destroy the country and the family.

Only those with extreme thoughts will not think they are wrong. They will only go all the way to the dark, either succeed or die. The more they are rejected, the more radical they are.

There are still many rebels and terrorists active near the ancient city of Palmyra, harassing the soldiers of the government troops all the time. And the Syrian government troops are also shit. If they use something, they will not let their country end up now.

At this moment, on the small earthblock not far from the ancient city, three or five bearded rebel soldiers emerged. Their main weapon was a single air defense missile and several RPG-7 rocket launchers. The tactic adopted was to wait and wait for the rabbit.

A rebel poked his head slightly from behind the landfill, raised his telescope to scan the city of Palmyra. In the desert environment, battles often revolve around water sources. Palmyra has been repeatedly fought over several times because it is an oasis after all.

There are not many government troops in the city because the oasis can provide very limited drinking water. They only occupy this place and prevent the rebels from using this as a base to harass other big cities, such as Damascus.

Hundreds of meters behind this small rebels, there was also a small team ambushing. They were wearing disguised nets, but did not carry too many weapons in their hands, but set up a camera facing the small rebels.

"Duke, get me over." A big bearded man growled behind the camera.

An Asian face rolled and crawled over, covered in sand and beads of sweat, and he was dirty. After approaching the beard, he said flatteringly: "Mr. Sidell, are you looking for me?"

The bearded man slapped him over and shouted irritably: "My name is Hussein now, why can't you remember this stupid monkey?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hussein." The Asian man knew that his boss had a strong sense of resentment in his heart in the past two days. He did not dare to anger the other party, so he could only try his best to adapt.

"Go and stare at the camera. Keep staring at me, don't miss any valuable news. Otherwise I will kill you." The bearded man "Hussein" retreated, opened the kettle around his waist and took a sip.

The Asian man was also dry-mouthed, but he could only watch his boss drinking water with envy. He could only swallow his throat and hope to get a little wet feeling, but the dry mouth and throat mucosa stinged.

He was in his throat, his stomach was still roaring, and he felt uncomfortable all over, but Duke could only bear it. He turned his eyes to the camera, tried his best to pay attention to the movement ahead, and prayed that he could take pictures of something today, otherwise his boss's temper would become more and more popular.

Duke belongs to a small news agency from Europe. The white people who call themselves "Hussein" are the president. They want to make some sensational news, and for this, they even go deep into the battlefield in Syria.

In Europe, the anti-government rebels represent freedom and justice. Duke and his group naturally had to take photos from the perspective of the rebels. They have been staying near Palmyra for half a month, but they have found nothing.

The rebels had a hard time, and their people were wandering around with weapons every day, looking for opportunities to attack government forces. But Hussein was not interested in the Syrians' own battles. He hoped to see the rebels make some bigger news, such as killing the Russian troops stationed in Syria.

But the Russian army is not stupid, and its combat quality is much better than that of Syria's Wushu. The rebels were searching for opportunities in the desert, so Duke could only follow his boss "Hussein". This kind of life was not good.

In the desert environment, Duke was in great pain for the sun. The food and water he could distribute every day was very limited, and he had to endure the increasingly irritable "Hussein". But he felt that this was worth it and a necessary hardship to integrate into the white society.

"May God forgive my sins." Duke grabbed the cross in his chest and kissed it, panting and stared at the rebel squad ahead. Today has been ambushed for most of the day, and it seems another day in vain. He was dazed in a daze, and it was about to get dark.

A black dot suddenly appeared in the sky, and soon the black dot expanded rapidly, and it was a helicopter flying. Duke, who was in a daze, suddenly shuddered and shouted happily: "Mr. Hussein, there is a helicopter."

The bearded man who was resting not far away suddenly got up and ran to the camera. When he looked at the camera, he saw a Russian Mi-8 helicopter approaching quickly, and the direction of his flight was facing the ambush position of the rebels.

"Great!" Hussein shouted wildly and quickly locked the helicopter into the view frame. "A Russian Mi-8 helicopter was destroyed by rebels outside the city of Palmyra. We can take real-time images. This one alone can be sold for a big price."

Duke also followed the scene and was silly and risked his life on the battlefield for half a month, and finally gained something. While "Hussein" was fiddling with the camera himself, he looked back and slapped Duke, and shouted angrily: "Quickly set up a satellite phone, I want to connect to European TV stations with video."

Duke was slapped twice in the face but did not dare to slack off. He quickly set up a satellite phone and contacted BBC, telling the editor-in-chief of the international department that they had a major real-time news here and wanted to sell it for a good price.

"A Russian Mi-8 helicopter is about to be shot down. Yes, it is right in front of us. It crashed into the ambush circle of the Syrian opposition. You can see this happen with your own eyes." Duke tried his best to promote it and sent the signal of the digital camera out through the satellite.

"Hussein" was operating the camera, with close-range views. He took a clear picture of the helicopter, the ambushing rebels and the surrounding environment, and the Mi-8 in the sky seemed to be in danger.

After confirming this scene, the editor-in-chief of BBC International Department thousands of kilometers away also realized that this was indeed awesome news and it was even happening.

"Fifty thousand dollars, we sell this news."

"You're kidding, less than $200,000, we'll cut off the signal."

“Two hundred thousand is too much.”

"Maybe we should go to 'Russia Today'. I think Russians will definitely spend money to sell the news and try their best to remind themselves to avoid the helicopter. Even if they fail in the end, they will definitely not hesitate about how much they spend."

Duke still had two slap marks on his face, but he felt that he was extremely successful at this moment. He was bargaining with the big guys of bbc, which was really the pinnacle of life.

"I remind you that this helicopter is about to enter the missile range. If you hesitate, you will miss this news and we will cut off the signal."

Perhaps it was Duke's ability to turn lotus flowers on his tongue. The editor-in-chief of BBC International Department agreed to sell this real-time news for $200,000 and immediately sent the signal to the live broadcast room of the news station.

"Don't worry, your $200,000 will be rewarded, wait for the ratings to soar." As soon as Duke finished speaking, the rebels hundreds of meters away had completed all missile launch preparations. The refrigerant of a 'Sthorn' individual air defense missile began to force refrigerate the guide head, and the infrared gaze array locked the target.
Chapter completed!