"The men have already entered the jungle, I can't see them from the air..."
The pilot's view was obscured by the ground vegetation, with only occasional glimpses of figures moving through the canopy.
The weather in the North warmed up slower than in the South; the southernmost part of the Federation had fully entered spring, with temperatures at least eighteen to nineteen degrees, but in the southernmost part of Mariluo, it was only a little over ten degrees.
The harsh winter had stripped the trees of dead branches and old leaves, giving the pilot a chance to catch glimpses.
The Senior Soldier aboard the ship looked at the dense jungle not far from the shore, paused for a moment, glanced at the Navy Major General dressed as an ordinary man beside him, and made a decision.
"Force them out."
"Roger that!"
The Beret suddenly looked up at the sky, where the plane, which had been circling at a low altitude, suddenly ascended. Was it leaving?
