Working as a police officer in Mexico

"Sir Rudy Fernandez has been assassinated!!!"

When Captain Alfonso of the Spanish supply ship "Columbus" came down, he saw a group of officers wailing, and Sir Rudy Fernandez's body lying on the ground.

Alfonso was startled, his expression suddenly changed, and he hurried over, only to see that the corpse, pale from the blood having drained away, looked ghastly.

"Who did this!" Alfonso shouted loudly at them.

"We don't know. We were in a meeting when a soldier suddenly burst in and stabbed him," Deputy Emilio Mora took a deep breath. "It must be the Mexicans, they've bought off our people!" Continue reading on My Virtual Library Empire

???

Alfonso always felt there were too many holes in that story. Did Mexicans really need to use spies to kill you?

Damn!

You think too highly of yourselves, don't you?

Each one of you stinks like a beggar.

Alfonso felt there must be something fishy going on!

A secret unknown to others had occurred on the island.

His eyes darkly scanned Deputy Emilio Mora as he slowly nodded. "I will report this."

A nobleman's death is no small matter.

The status of people differs.

"Per the orders, the Spanish Foreign Legion will take over the defense of Socorro Island and San Benedicto Island and command all the land soldiers," Alfonso told the group of "beggars".

"Do you mean we can't go back to rest yet?" an officer asked with wide eyes.

"It's a decision made by the superiors."

"Go to hell! I want to go home. I want to go home!" The officer went mad, joking that he didn't want to risk his life here anymore.

Mexicans...

Too frightening.

He screamed and started to run, just as the soldiers from the supply ship were offloading supplies, and they too turned their heads in surprise.

Bang!

A gunshot.

A bloody hole appeared in the back of the officer's head, Emilio Mora's pupils dilated as he saw Alfonso holding a handgun, "Deserters in the face of the enemy, die!"

The soldiers standing behind Alfonso cocked their rifles, looking ominously at the group.

The atmosphere suddenly became tense.

"We'll accept the order," Emilio Mora kept silent for a moment before reluctantly agreeing. "However, we absolutely can't be stationed on the island; the Mexicans' aerial power is too strong, with constant bombings, we would suffer heavy losses!"

"It's decided by the staff. You just need to execute the order."

Almost cursed out loud right then. Did those idiots at the staff know what fighting meant? Anyone who could fight had been cleaned out after Franco!

Just don't be a "Jesus" mediator, for God's sake. When people die, damn it, Spanish priests will have to work overtime!

"Don't worry, Mexican planes won't make it here. Everyone hopes Victor dies. I just don't believe he, this heretic, can escape judgment!"

Although Alfonso spoke confidently.

Emilio Mora felt like he was just talking nonsense.

He could only nod in agreement.

They, this "Beggar Army," were left to dig bunkers, trenches, and bomb shelters in preparation for the next military operation.

The supply ship left.

An officer standing beside him opened his mouth, "Sir, we'll die if we stay here!"

"So, do you want to go back to the country to be spat on then? We are soldiers, and soldiers must be prepared to sacrifice!" Emilio Mora said it simply, but who wanted to die?

They didn't even know why they were fighting here!

"Stay sharp, don't think too much. Distribute the rations so the brothers can keep up their strength. Tough battles lie ahead."

The Colonel watched the departing supply ship.

Then he looked up at the sky, wondering why the Mexican Air Force hadn't come to bomb this ship as well.

...

Boom!

A loud explosion!

A section of the railway from Sonora State to Jalisco was blown up.

The train, blaring its whistle, made an emergency stop!

The train conductor, very nervous, patted the driver's shoulder and cursed.

The Southern drug trafficker army, knowing they couldn't beat the Northern Army on the main battlefield, had broken into smaller groups to attack the outposts and railways, making many supply trains vulnerable.

"Swoosh~"

A rocket, dragging a tail of sound from who knows where, flew in and directly blew up the central carriages. Hundreds of figures holding weapons rushed down and exchanged fire with the guards!

The guards, an enhanced squad of about 20 people, equipped with Vulcan M61 Air Cannons, started firing down so intensely that the attackers couldn't even lift their heads.

"Release the dogs! Release the dogs!"

A dog with a bomb strapped to it ran towards the train, its body agile as it leaped from side to side dodging bullets. Just as it was about four or five meters away, boom!

Flesh and blood sprayed upward into the sky.

The blast wave from the C4 flipped the Vulcan cannon, and soldiers rolled back and forth on the railroad tracks in pain.

The attackers seized the chance and charged...

The battle continued for about twenty minutes, and when the armed helicopters arriving in response to the distress call flew over, all they saw were roaring flames and Northern Army corpses carelessly tossed on the ground.

Bang!

Northern Army Staff Headquarters.

Horatio Herbert Kitchener slammed his hand down on a desk, his face ghastly, "In half a month, we've been attacked 13 times, with a total of over 29 kilometers of railway blown up, and losses in supplies over seven million dollars, an average of one train a day, damn it, are all the Southern drug traffickers born rats? Why are they so hard to catch?"

The many high-ranking officers standing across from him kept their heads down when scolded.