38: I'm keeping a close eye on it! I need the exact data.

Saddam could no longer suppress the excitement in his heart and waved his hand.

"Let's go! We're going to welcome our eagles!"

The group eagerly walked towards the tarmac.

In the sky, the remaining fighter jets began to circle, then one after another, landed precisely on the runway.

The entire process was smooth and fluid, demonstrating extremely high flying skills.

The Iraqi Air Force pilots on the airport were even more thrilled.

"So cool! This is what a fighter jet is, damn it!"

"Compared to the 'Eagles', those MiG-29s we have are just a pile of flying scrap metal!"

"If I could fly this thing, I'd flatten the Iranian air base for them!"

Half an hour later.

Forty brand new f-15 "eagle" fighter jets were neatly parked on the tarmac.

The silver-gray paint gleamed with a cold metallic luster under the sunlight.

The powerful sense of oppression made everyone present feel their hearts surge.

Saddam walked up to a fighter jet, reached out, and caressed the cold fuselage with adoration, his eyes full of obsession.

"Good! Excellent!"

He praised repeatedly with excitement.

"With these forty eagles, our Iraqi Air Force will become the sharpest spear in the entire Middle East!"

The Air Force generals behind him all straightened their chests, their morale high.

They knew that from today on, the history of the Iraqi Air Force would be completely rewritten.

The next day.

An inconspicuous cargo ship quietly arrived at the port.

Two thousand brand new "Falcon" medium-range air-to-air missiles were secretly transported to major air bases.

Ammunition in place, fighter jets in place.

Next, it was time for the eagles to get familiar with the sky.

In Balad, in Baghdad, in Muthanna...engine roars echoed day and night in multiple core Iraqi air bases.

Ace pilot instructors hired from David were conducting the most rigorous crash courses for Iraqi pilots.

In just a few days, Iraq's elite pilots had initially mastered the flying techniques of these advanced fighter jets.

A long-brewing storm was about to sweep across the entire Middle East.

All air bases were making final preparations for an impending war.

The morning mist had not yet fully dispersed, but the huge roar had already shattered the airport's tranquility.

A brand new f-15 "eagle" fighter jet was quietly parked at the end of the runway.

Its fuselage lines were sleek and powerful, gleaming with a cold metallic light in the morning sun.

Compared to the surrounding Iraqi fighter jets, which were weathered by war and slightly old, it was like a visitor from another world.

Ground crew surrounded this raptor, performing final checks, their eyes filled with awe and excitement.

They carefully wiped the fuselage, checked every screw, refueled it, and loaded missiles.

Their movements were as devout as if they were handling a work of art.

"Is everything checked?"

"Report, Captain, fuel is full, weapon systems self-check passed, everything is normal!"

"What about the missiles? Are the 'Falcons' securely loaded?"

"Absolutely secure! Each one has been checked three times!"

Squadron Leader Reza stood below the cockpit, confirming all details one last time.

He looked up at this behemoth, his heart pounding uncontrollably.

As one of the top pilots in the Iraqi Air Force, he had flown MiGs and Mirages.

But he had never imagined that one day he would personally pilot the legendary "Eagle."

These fighter jets were bought at an exorbitant price through some mysterious channel.

No one knew who the seller was, only that this batch of goods was incredibly powerful.

Not only were there forty F-15s with almost new performance, but they also came with enough "Falcon" medium-range air-to-air missiles to fight a high-intensity war.

"Go up, Reza! Let those Lang Country bastards see our new toys!"

"Let them know whose sky it is!"

The cheers of his comrades came from nearby.

Reza grinned, showing a mouthful of white teeth, and gave everyone a thumbs-up.

He deftly climbed the boarding ladder and settled into the spacious and bright cockpit.

He took a deep breath.

Then sharply pushed the throttle forward.

"Falcon One, runway clear, authorized for takeoff!"

Following the tower's command, the two Pratt & Whitney F100 Engines at the rear of the F-15 erupted in a deafening roar!

Blue afterburners spewed out, and the powerful thrust propelled the fighter jet forward.

Reza felt a huge force pressing him firmly against the seat as the fighter jet accelerated wildly down the runway.

Then the nose gently lifted, elegantly breaking free from gravity, and soared into the sky.

"Wow!"

On the airport, everyone looked up, uttering sincere exclamations.

Immediately after, the second, third... forty f-15 "eagle" fighter jets, like dumplings being dropped into a pot, roared into the sky one after another.

The entire Balad Air Base was engulfed by the roar of engines and the cheers of the people.

The ground crew excitedly embraced each other, celebrating this historic moment.

Fifteen minutes later.

The F-15 formation led by Reza rendezvoused in the air with attack aircraft and bomber groups that had taken off from Baghdad.

Soon, another fighter jet formation that had taken off from Muthanna Air Base also joined them.

A massive aerial fleet consisting of over sixty various types of fighter jets, mighty and menacing, surged towards Lang Country in the east.

Lang Country, Sanandaj Air Base.

A piercing alarm blared throughout the base without warning, shattering the morning's tranquility.

"What's going on?!"

"Enemy attack! It's an enemy attack!"

The base instantly fell into chaos.

Inside the radar station, the atmosphere was even more tense.

A young technician stared intently at the large patches of red dots that had suddenly appeared on the screen.

Cold sweat instantly streamed down his forehead.

The dots were densely packed, forming a huge arrow, rapidly crossing the border, heading straight for them!

"Quick! Quickly notify the general!" The radar station chief's voice had changed pitch as he grabbed the red phone on the desk.

The call was answered almost instantly.

"What is it! Why are you sounding the alarm so early in the morning!" Major General Mehdi's angry voice came from the other end of the line.

"General... it's bad!" The chief's voice trembled. "A large number of unidentified flying targets have appeared from the border direction!"

Mehdi's sleepiness instantly vanished, and he sprang out of bed.

"How many? What models? Are the Iraqis sending themselves to their deaths again?"

"No..." The chief swallowed with difficulty. "The number... the number exceeds sixty! The aircraft types are very complex."

"There are their MiG-23s, Su-22s... and... and a signal from a fighter jet we've never seen before, moving very fast!"

"What?!"

Mehdi's head buzzed, and he was completely stunned.

Over sixty aircraft?!

Are the Iraqis crazy? Where did they get so many planes?

And a new model, damn it?

"Stare them down! I want exact data!"

Mehdi roared as he hung up the phone, fumbling to put on his military uniform.

He rushed out of the barracks, shouting, "Order! First Fighter Squadron, emergency takeoff! All scramble to intercept!"

The order was quickly relayed.

The First Fighter Squadron was the last ace of the Sanandaj Base.

It consisted of an F-14 "Tomcat" squadron, an F-5E "Tiger" squadron, and an F-4 "Phantom" squadron.

However, due to years of war attrition, the entire squadron had fewer than thirty flyable aircraft remaining.

The hangar doors swung open.

Ground crew rushed out with bomb carts and refueling trucks.

Pilots sprinted from their barracks to their fighter jets, their faces etched with gravity.