Working as a police officer in Mexico

"Hastings is going to betray the Edinburgh Association!"

Edinburgh is a well-known city in the United Kingdom, and the Association is an alliance of some military officials, politicians, and tycoons, established in 1897. Funnily enough, Hastings's father, Claude John, after being promoted to Marshal in 1946, also became the ninth president of the Association...

Europeans and Americans like to form these kinds of societies and groups; it's not very magnanimous.

After hanging up the phone, Admiral Hastings actually regretted it.

He shouldn't have mentioned surrender...

It was just a moment of recklessness...

His family was too deeply tied to the United Kingdom; it was impossible for him to betray them.

Lost and disoriented, he slumped back into his chair, then vigorously rubbed his face and stood up to rearrange tactics—if they couldn't win, they'd break out!

They absolutely couldn't let themselves be encircled and annihilated here.

After all, he was a General who had participated in the Falklands War, not a coward!

But just as he picked up a pen to redraw the strategy on the map, the noise of commotion and gunfire broke out outside the tent?!

He was jolted with alarm, grabbed the pistol on the table, and was about to rush out when the barrel of a gun was pointed directly at him.

Four or five men walked in.

The one leading was none other than his own Guard Corps Captain!

"What are you doing, Carter!"

"General, I don't want to die, and the brothers don't want to die in Mexico!!" Carter was a typical white man, holding a gun with a flush red face, shouting loudly, his hand trembling.

"500,000 US dollars! The Northern Army has put a bounty of 500,000 on your head, and they've accepted our surrender. If we kill you, we can go back to the United Kingdom. My wife is waiting for me, I can't die in Mexico..."

Admiral Hastings's pupils contracted, "No, I can take you back..."

Bang!!

A gunshot!

The bullet pierced through his left eye and drilled out of the back of his head. The old man in his sixties, still so robust, didn't utter a sound.

He fell heavily to the ground.

With his eyes wide open, he died with grievances unappeased.

Carter, who had killed the commanding officer, was momentarily bewildered...

What now?

Soldiers who heard the gunfire rushed over and engaged in a shootout with the personal guard, and eventually, the range was affected, stirring up the entire little city of Akambaro!

With no external support, logistics in chaos, leadership in disarray, and enemies on all sides, it was even anticipated that the collapse of the frontline troops of the 1st Brigade was inevitable.

Throughout thousands of years of war history in the world, who could escape from such a predicament?

The soldiers below didn't want to die, so their only choice was to overthrow the higher ranks!

"I want to go home! I don't want to fight! What did I do wrong! What did I do wrong!!!" Only Carter was left of the personal guard; he was cornered in a room, crying out and shouting towards the outside.

In the end, in desperation, he shoved the gun barrel into his mouth.

He committed suicide!

Bang!

Blood and brain matter from the back of his head splattered on the wall, painting a "flower of freedom"...

Iraq. The Golden Palace!

This was one of Saddam's favorite official residences.

Many of the buildings inside were made of gold!

The carpets were all imported from Persia, worth their weight in gold; even the servants had to wear shoe covers while working. If they didn't, Saddam would chop off their legs, according to him, no one could trample his treasures!

Especially after the first Gulf War, when he, known as the "Little Bully of the Middle East," was brutally beaten down.

The image was this:

A hippopotamus wrapped in a General's cloak and wearing sunglasses pointing at Uncle Sam and his underlings, saying, "You big idiot, come on if you dare, screw your ancestors."

A camel with a headscarf was crying at Uncle Sam's feet, its teeth knocked out, clinging to Uncle Sam's underwear, "Bro, he... he hit me! He hit me!!"

At this juncture, Uncle Sam took a puff of his cigarette, pointed at the hippopotamus, and said coldly, "Apologize."

"Fuck you!" The hippopotamus defiantly raised his middle finger, "Got guts? Kill me!"

"Brothers, beat him up!"

More than thirty people, ganging up on one...

Now Saddam's spine was broken from the beating, and he could only lie face down, wailing.

His situation was also bad now, as after a decade of the Iran-Iraq War, there was significant domestic opposition to him. Even though he ruled with an iron fist... unless he could keep winning, but he lost!

He lost to the United States.

Opponents within the country were itching to act, and assassination attempts were constant. Now, he was filled with suspicion towards everyone, and his temper grew increasingly volatile.

Currently, Saddam glared with wide eyes, sitting on the sofa, clenching his fists, his body upright, breathing rapidly.

The news was on the screen.

A female anchor with a headscarf, looking serious, said, "The Northern Army has fired missiles towards the Gulf of Mexico, and The Pentagon has expressed concern. Guatemala, Salvador, Honduras, and Nicaragua fear further escalation of the regional situation. Canada sternly rebuked Victor's irresponsible actions and believed this was a missile attack."

"As for Tijuana, they claimed this was just a routine plan for the year, and also asked the US not to overinterpret. According to sources familiar with the matter, the effective range of the launched missile is 3020 kilometers..."

The distance from Tijuana to Washington is exactly 3020 kilometers!

"Currently, the US and Mexico will begin dialogue concerning the conflict in Texas..."

Saddam grabbed the golden ashtray and threw it!

The valuable television was directly smashed and started smoking; it wasn't clear what had offended him, but in fact, it was the word "dialogue."

Damn, Mexico screws with you and you want a dialogue, I insult you, and you want to strike at me?

Why!

Unfair!

"Thump thump~"

The sound of footsteps outside, quite cheerful. Saddam's second son Qusay walked in, saw the smashed TV, then looked at his father's gloomy expression and immediately shuddered.