The temporary medical station on the east side of the Bayji refinery was filled with the mixed smell of blood and disinfectant.
Song Heping stepped across the blood-stained ground, his gaze sweeping over the line of stretchers.
Over a dozen severely injured soldiers were undergoing emergency surgeries. The makeshift operating tables were improvised from oil barrels and doors. Military doctors and medics sent by the Persian Revolutionary Guard, along with medical personnel from various combat units, were busy.
Outside the medical station, those slightly injured either sat or lay down. Some silently smoked, their eyes vacantly staring at the sky.
In the distance, the engineering corps was handling the bodies of the fallen, identifying and preparing them for burial.
Avanti approached with a heavy expression and said, "Song, your casualties this time are severe... We're running out of medical supplies. I've ordered a batch from the border camp, estimated to arrive by dawn."
