Formulating a tactical plan was no difficult task for Song Heping, especially with the current plan, where "Musician" Defense only planned to recruit 60 local mercenaries and an additional 9 elite combat team members, equivalent to the force of two platoons.
It was essentially a company-level tactical simulation.
Although the cook had confidence in Song Heping's small squad command abilities, the direct expansion to over sixty people inevitably caused him some worry.
The company had grown, but so had the problems.
Looking at his own team, there really was no talent left.
He could no longer count on White Bear and his pair.
One was a sniper and the other a former gunner, who hadn't even made squad leader when he left the paratroopers, lacking any real command ability.
Grey Wolf.
A reliable person, not much of a talker, clear in executing tasks, but commanding dozens of people in a military operation seemed unlikely, waiting for his next order would probably take forever.
Then there was himself.
His command level in combat was far from comparable to his cooking skills.
Finally, there was the newly joined Ferrari, expert in logistics support, but clumsy with a gun, claiming he was a brainiac who hated the low-tech tasks of shooting and fighting.
No wonder they said the most crucial thing in the twenty-first century was talent; without it, you were like a eunuch entering a brothel, unable to play any role.
Before, the cook had never thought of starting a defense company, let alone expected it to grow so large.
Now, suddenly shifting from bicycle to motorbike, the team had swollen to dozens of people, and all within just a few days, the speed was astonishing, making him feel a bit out of control.
Looking around the entire team, he reckoned the only one he could rely on was Song Heping.
"Song, do you really have the confidence to command so many people?"
The cook hesitated but still voiced his concerns.
"Is it that difficult?"
Song Heping said, "Isn't it just a defense scheme? It won't take me three hours, but right now I am still missing something."
The cook asked, "What's that?"
Song Heping said, "Intelligence. You need to find a way to get me some intelligence."
The cook said, "What kind of intelligence do you need?"
Song Heping said, "Records and analysis reports of attacks on Hassan Oil Field and its surrounding fields over the past few months, and security situation assessment reports near Hassan Oil Field; these are very important."
The cook exclaimed, "Are you joking internationally? Where would I find those things?! Just base your plans on the terrain—do you need all that intelligence data? Do you think you are a regular army? CIA or Seal Team?!"
Hearing this, Song Heping got angry.
He was absolutely meticulous when it came to tactical arrangements.
This was a matter that could cost people's lives.
So he couldn't help but mock the cook, "You know nothing! The premise of formulating a combat plan is intelligence. Without intelligence support, the combat plan is just a castle in the air, mere paper strategy!"
"What castle?! What paper strategy?" The cook didn't understand.
"You manage the business, I manage the military, don't mess with me."
Song Heping couldn't be bothered to explain further; the cook had his limitations, good at handling external relations, and at best a borderline soldier in combat, but when it came to command, the cook was just reckless.
"What are you guys arguing about?"
Ferrari had appeared behind them unnoticed.
He patted his chest and said, "You need intelligence and you don't ask me? Ask me!"
After saying that, he turned and went out, soon returning with a laptop bag, from which he took out a laptop, powered it on, and began to pull up files.
"Security analysis report and attack records near Hassan Oilfield, right?"
"Exactly," said Song Heping. "Do you have them?"
"Command, your job; intelligence, my job. Don't forget I came from the United Security Council." Ferrari pulled up the files, signaling Song Heping to come over, "See if these are what you need?"
Song Heping hurried over and opened those files.
He was immediately overjoyed.
These were the security situation analysis reports and firefight reports of the allied forces and ICDC units in the Hassan Oilfield Area over the past three months.
Clearly, these were internal documents of the allied forces and the United Security Council.
Each military action required a post-action analysis report written by the commanding officer, covering many details, including enemy firepower, affiliated armed factions and their numbers, tactics employed, and losses, among other things.
It also included analysis of various factions near the northern oilfield areas, identifying several armed factions, their allegiances, and their backers detailed therein.
Song Heping suddenly thought of something.
These were all internal classified documents.
According to the regulations, Ferrari was not supposed to copy these materials when leaving the United Security Council.
But he did not want to investigate further.
If Ferrari wasn't afraid, why should he be?
He had just sat down to review some data and reports when he heard Grey Wolf's voice outside.
"Song! Someone is looking for you!"
Song Heping heard this and walked out of the room, immediately spotting Samir.
"Samir? What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to apply for a job," Samir said. "I saw the job posting..."
Song Heping said, "You came to apply for a job?"
He suddenly felt it was odd.
"Aren't you keeping your job at ISF?"
When Song Heping brought this up, Samir's expression turned somewhat unnatural.
Seeing this, Song Heping immediately understood that the other party had some unspoken difficulties.
Thus, he didn't press further but changed the subject, saying, "We really do need people, and we certainly welcome someone with your experience, but this is the Chef's responsibility. Why didn't you go directly to him?"
Samir said, "I thought it would be easier to talk to you."
Song Heping was taken aback, then burst into laughter.
Indeed, Chef's persona did not appear to be that of a kind and faithful soul; he looked rather fierce and formidable.
"Chef!"
Song Heping called into the container room, "Someone's here for a job application!"
Upon hearing this, the Chef came out of the room and was surprised to see Samir. "Samir, you were doing well at ISF, why come here to apply?"
Samir was silent again.
Song Heping gave Chef a look, signaling him to stop asking.
Chef quickly caught on and shifted his tone, saying, "Alright, you know our company's situation. Just set up, the salary is... $300 per month, with mission commissions and bonuses; weapons and equipment are provided by the company, meals during missions are free, but I won't cover your trips home. With these conditions, do you want to work with us?"
At that time, local security services in Illiguo generally started at $150 and only went up to $300 a month.
Chef was quite decent to his subordinates, at least in terms of compensation; he was not the type to exploit his soldiers.
"I'm willing! I'm very satisfied!"
Suddenly, Samir's eyes shone brightly.
"Wait," Song Heping raised his hand to stop Samir and turned to Chef, "Chef, Samir is fluent in English. He's not just a regular mercenary. I think you might want to offer a higher rate. I need two platoon leaders here; assign him as a platoon leader with an extra duty allowance."
Chef mentally calculated and thought it was feasible to offer a bit more.
The price for local security was indeed too cheap.
So cheap it was almost inhumane.
Samir had studied abroad and returned home bilingual, and last time in Krasa Town, when the other ISF members had all run off, only he and two others had come over in a Hummer to help.
What is most important in recruiting mercenaries?
Professional ethics!
Samir had solid professional ethics, unlike those in the ISF who merely went through the motions and fled at the first sign of trouble.
"Okay, add $200 for the platoon leader!"
"Thank you so much, Mr. Yevgeny! I will definitely work hard."
Tears suddenly appeared in Samir's eyes.
Song Heping saw this and felt a sharp pang in his heart.
It seemed Samir was indeed in dire need of money for his family.
To think, before the war in Illiguo, it had been so affluent, and now the addition of a mere $200 could stir such emotion...
How tragic!