Two Mi-17 helicopters flew one after the other under a dome-like night sky. The sea below was devoid of any glimmer, as if it were a constantly writhing abyss ready to swallow them whole.

  Inside the cabin, it felt like a cramped, noisy greenhouse. The heat from the engine was mixed with the exhaust gas and was swept into the cabin by the rotor through the tail hatch where the hatch was removed, spreading an uneasy atmosphere. A few Black soldiers tried to break the tension but soon gave up, realizing how hard it was to even make themselves heard by the person sitting right next to them.

  Near the rear door, Deng Shiyang sat cross-legged on the floor,secured with a safety harness,and leaning against a pile of wooden crates filled with mortar shells. He held an SS1 rifle in his arms, its magazine removed. To ensure flight safety, all passengers' weapons had been cleared of any chambered rounds.

  The hour-and-a-half flight felt like a nightmare. Even though noise-canceling headphones reduced the engine noise to a minimum, the constant vibration only amplified the pre-battle nerves instead of calming them.

  Still, he endured. When the luminous military watch on his wrist pointed to 01:45, a dim red cabin light came on, and the raspy voice of Daniel Morley rang out in his noise-canceling headphones: “ETA, five minutes.”

  “Load the gun, turn off the safety.” Deng Shiyang ordered through his headset.

  There was no need for Semler to translate. The men in the cabin had already begun following his command.

  Due to the single-point sling being inconvenient for bending over, Deng Shiyang removed his rifle and set it down nearby. Then, taking a small pencil flashlight, he lit it and clamped it in his mouth. He untied the fixed straps and, together with a Black soldier assisting him, moved a bomb deployment machine to the floor. Stripping off the tape on the fuzes, he used the flashlight's beam to inspect them. Once he confirmed that all the safety pins on the fuzes had been removed,only then did he and the black soldiers hang the box upside down on the two bars of the movable stand.

  No sooner had they finished than the helicopter began to ascend. They were now entering the heart of Ezulwini Valley, flying over Kwaluseni.

  The presidential palace remained brightly lit even in the dead of night. Floodlights illuminated the exterior walls of the residence, making it appear like a glowing white box, strikingly conspicuous against the darkness of the valley.

  Once the pilots visually confirmed the target, the two helicopters split up. The "Arc Light One," carrying Deng Shiyang and Semler, climbed to 2,000 feet and flew over the Presidential Guard barracks. Meanwhile, the "Arc Light Two," carrying Mark and Du Preez, maintained an altitude of 600 feet, circling the presidential palace counterclockwise.

  Deng Shiyang took the multitool clipped to his tactical vest, tightened the fishing line attached to the back of the bomb deployment machine with his left hand, then stick the thread cutting opening on the fish wire.

  “The guards are panicking,” Du Preez' s voice came through the headphones.

  The roar of the helicopters had alarmed the guards at the presidential palace. Disheveled soldiers streamed out of buildings, looking up at the night sky. But aside from the sound coming from all directions, they saw nothing.

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  “Still not aligned?” Deng Shiyang asked loudly through the intercom.

  “Just a little more, almost there,” Sien' s voice trembled slightly.

  At 2,000 feet, it was impossible to see what was happening on the ground. But judging by reports from "Arc Light Two," the guards had realized something was wrong and were moving to full alert.

  As if to confirm his suspicions, all the lights in the outer courtyard and along the palace walls suddenly came on. Beams of light from the guard towers swept across the surrounding night sky.

  “Damn!” Deng Shiyang gritted his teeth and issued an order over the radio: “Shoot out those searchlights.”

  “Roger that,” Mark replied, immediately pulling the trigger. The SS-77 machine gun mounted at the side door of the helicopter spewed fire toward a guard tower in the northwest corner of the wall, and the searchlight was quickly destroyed. The Belgian gunner promptly adjusted his aim to target another tower.

  The wailing of an alarm tore through the night, throwing the presidential palace into chaos. Soldiers who had been standing in the open now scrambled back into their barracks.

  At that moment, Sien reported, “Target aligned.”

  Almost simultaneously, Deng Shiyang cut the fishing line on the bomb deployment machine. Twelve 81mm mortar shells dropped from the crate and disappeared into the night sky.

  He had no time to appreciate the results of the bombardment. Tossing the now-empty crate out of the helicopter, he pulled the movable rack back and gestured to the soldiers behind him. Two Black soldiers immediately lifted another crate of shells, with the safeties already removed, and mounted it onto the rack.

  The first volley of shells mostly landed on the open ground in front of the barracks. A few hit one of the barracks, easily piercing the thin fiberglass roof and exploding inside, reducing the makeshift building to rubble.

  The flames and smoke from the explosions allowed the "Arc Light One" pilot to see the deviation. Sien gently nudged the control stick, shifting the Mi-17 slightly to the left, then notified Deng Shiyang via intercom.

  Soon, another twelve shells fell from 2,000 feet. However, the second volley missed even more, landing entirely on the adjacent open ground. Fortunately, the blast waves overturned another barrack.

  Deng Shiyang was already sweating profusely. He asked the black soldiers to put the third box of mortar shells on the movable bracket and push it out of the cabin, but the "drop bomb" signal was not heard for a long time.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked over the intercom.

  “Too much dust below, I can’t see the target,” Sien replied in frustration.

  The smoke and dust from the explosions had obscured most of the palace's front yard, leaving only a gray haze visible on the screen.

  Deng Shiyang frowned, then cut the fishing line on the bomb deployment machine. After dropping the third volley, he used the intercom to command: “Arc Light Two, give me BDA.”

  “Roger that,”Du Preez responded. He had the pilot lower their altitude to 400 feet, then picked up a pair of binoculars to survey the presidential palace.

  The enemy soldiers in the eight guard towers along the walls had been eliminated, and Mark had destroyed all the searchlights with his machine gun. Attempts by the Presidential Guard to retake the guard towers quickly ended when the brave few who climbed the walls were shot down, forcing the rest to abandon the effort entirely.

  Though the helicopters’ onboard firepower was relatively weak, the machine guns equipped with night vision sights proved to be a significant advantage. The "invisible" bullets created an overwhelming sense of dread among the defenders, who dared not expose themselves in the open or even fire into the air.

  After circling three times, Du Preez finally had a clear view of the situation inside the presidential palace. Most of the buildings in the front yard were intact, but the three barracks were reduced to ruins. The sole surviving barrack had become a bonfire, spewing thick black smoke.

  He reported his findings to Deng Shiyang, who thought for a moment before ordering the team to begin the landing ground.

  ---

  Annotations:

  ETA: Estimated Time of Arrival

  BDA: Bombardment Damage Assessment