Capítulo 1429: Chapter 683: Fortune Awaits Us! (2)
“Make way! Ergency pneumothorax!”
A dic, hands covered in blood, shouted as he and another soldier carried a stretcher through the corridor crowded with lightly injured soldiers. The young soldier on the stretcher had a chest covered in a blurred, dark red, emitting a terrifying, blood-filled hiss with his weak and rapid breaths.
In the makeshift infirmary, rows of stretchers were laid directly on the cold floor. A soldier who had lost a leg was injected with morphine and stared blankly at the ceiling.
“Plasma! O-negative blood is out! Go find so, quick!”
The lead surgeon shouted hoarsely without looking up. Next to him, a nurse was struggling to hold down a soldier with a bullet wound in his stomach, who was writhing and howling in pain, his warm intestines protruding through her fingers.
anwhile, in Austin, the underground command center.
The despair and hesitation on Paul Constantine Stuart’s face had been shattered by the sudden outbreak of total war, replaced by a grim determination driven to extremity.
The radio continuously broadcasted distress signals from frontline units encountering fierce attacks and suffering heavy losses.
“Mr. President! The Red River line is engaged! The 112th Armored Battalion reports losing two tanks; Commander Randall is KIA!”
“The Louisiana 1st Armored Division is forcing a crossing at Red River in the Springfield direction! We need air support!”
“Our artillery is returning fire, but their artillery density far exceeds expectations!”
Staff officers and communication officers reported frantically, each ssage thickening the air in the command center.
“Enough!” Paul slamd the table, a thunderous sound startling everyone.
His eyes were bloodshot, the humiliation of the appeasent call leaving him feeling slightly ashad.
“They want war? Then let’s give them war!”
Paul had no more room to retreat, “Relay my orders!”
“All frontline units are authorized to use all necessary firepower, hold positions, and counterattack! I want the Red River turned into a river of blood for the Louisianans!”
“Order the second and third National Guard brigades to mobilize imdiately to the northern border! Block that breach at all costs!”
“Contact the airbase! All flyable F-16s, A-10s, load them with ground munitions and scramble imdiately! Target: Red River crossing and Louisiana’s armored formations! Tell them I want to see enemy tanks burning in the river!”
“Activate the ‘Lone Star’ ergency act, requisition all in-state civilian fuel, trucks, and dical supplies, prioritize the frontline!”
“External communication! Broadcast to the nation, to the world! Expose Louisiana’s deliberate provocation and shaless assault! Strongly condemn xico’s military provocations as well; we want everyone to know that Texas is forced to fight on two fronts!”
Forget about being Roosevelt now.
Damn, soon I’ll be Kennedy.
Let’s just stay alive first!
If dead, then nothing truly remains.
June 7th, 1995, evening.
The cara’s red light lit up, projecting Paul Constantine Stuart’s face, marked by trials but unusually resolute in this mont, to the entire Lone Star Republic and the world.
He stood before a massive, slightly worn Texas star-spangled flag, his military uniform collar unbuttoned, eyes streaked with bloodshot veins.
In the background, the distant rumble of artillery fire was faintly audible, and through a carefully positioned microphone, it added a sense of grim urgency to his speech.
“Citizens of Texas! My compatriots! Brothers and sisters!”
His voice, hoarse but full of imnse strength, transmitted into thousands of hos through the television signal.
Countless Texan households, anxious and uncertain due to the grim news from the frontline, held their breath.
“Tonight, our peace, our hos, the Red River border that generations have guarded, were torn by the most despicable sneak attack and shaless bombardnt of the Louisiana army!”
He clenched his fist and slamd it heavily on the lectern, producing a dull sound.
“Countless of our finest sons, husbands, and fathers are falling on the banks of the Red River, their blood turning the waters red! They endure imnse sacrifices to stop the enemy from stepping onto our land! Sergeant Randall and his tank crew, along with many warriors like them, have already bled the last drop for Texas!”
Paul choked up slightly, but then his voice rose even higher, filled with undeniable resolve.
“We yearn for peace, we have made concessions, we were even willing to extend a hand in dialogue! But all we received in return were more vicious bullets and shells! They think our tolerance is weakness! They think our restraint is fear!”
“They are wrong!”
He almost roared, his sharp gaze directed at the cara, as if piercing through the screen, directly eting the soul of every Texan.
“Texans have never lacked courage! Our ancestors fought xico for independence with their blood and built this land with resilience! Tonight, the test cos again! The enemy is not only from the east, across the Red River; the southern xican dictatorship is also scheming, trying to take advantage!”
“We are facing outright treacherous assaults and brazen aggression! But we will not yield! We will not back down! Because behind us are our hos, our loved ones, our Texan way of free life!”
His tone softened but grew deeper, carrying a sense of fatal determination:
“I, Paul Constantine Stuart, as the interim president of Texas, hereby call upon every Texan capable of wielding a weapon to fulfill your duties! Join your units, defend your communities! Workers in factories, please produce more supplies for the frontlines! Farrs, please ensure our food supply! Doctors and nurses, be prepared to save lives!”
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