Capítulo 1446: Chapter 687: Vanguard! (Part 2)
“Brelock, Garrett, and the Johnson family have already chosen peace! Why die for the Stuart family?”
“Lay down your weapons! The xican Army guarantees your safety! Resistance only leads to death!”
“Look around you! Is there any hope left?”
At the sa ti, several battalions composed of the surrendering Texas puppet troops launched infiltration assaults with the cooperation of the xican Special Forces along the weak points of the defense line.
They wore Texas National Guard uniforms or simply dressed in civilian clothes, silently took out sentries, seized key firepower points, and even guided precise strike teams from xico to destroy the last few heavy machine gun nests with anti-tank missiles.
The command system of the defenders fell into chaos instantly.
They couldn’t distinguish whether the approaching people were friend or foe, their radios filled with contradictory orders and desperate calls.
Their morale collapsed like an avalanche.
By daybreak, as the main tanks and infantry fighting vehicles of the xican Army began to rumble through the corridors opened by the puppet troops, most of the Texas defenders had lost their organized resistance ability.
Many soldiers chose to raise their hands in rows, exit the trenches, and throw their weapons into a pile.
A few die-hard individuals launched sporadic counterattacks, quickly drowned by overwhelming firepower.
Paul Constantine Stuart, in the underground command center of the State Legislative Building, listened to the increasingly close sound of gunfire and the thunderous roar of tank engines, his face ashen.
He attempted to contact his Air Force adjutant, preparing to head to the airport, but communications had long been cut off.
xican soldiers kicked open the reinforced oak door with force, and the scent of gunpowder and dust instantly poured into the last underground bunker of the Texas Temporary Governnt.
Paul Stuart, who just hours earlier had called over the radio to “fight to the last drop of blood,” shuddered at the loud bang of the door being broken open.
He turned around abruptly, trying to maintain composure, even attempting to squeeze out a haughty and magnanimous look befitting a superior.
Adjusting his ash-covered suit tie, he cleared his throat and began in his accustod oratorical tone, “Gentlen, I think we can negot…”
Before the word “negotiate” could exit his mouth.
A xican sergeant, with a look of impatience, couldn’t be bothered to let him finish. He reversed the M16 rifle in his hand and, with all his might, viciously smashed the rifle butt into Paul Stuart’s mouth!
“Crack!”
A sharp, teeth-grinding sound.
Paul’s teeth shattered instantly, spraying mixed blood and saliva.
He let out an indistinct, pained groan, falling backward, crashing heavily against the cold stone wall, then slid limply to the ground, curling into a ball.
The intense pain darkened his vision, leaving him only able to clutch his bloodied mouth, whimpering in agony and gasping.
The xican soldiers, with indifferent expressions, stepped forward, roughly pulling him up and handcuffing him.
Paul no longer tried to maintain any decorum, driven by extre fear and pain, he began to plead in a leaky, garbled voice:
“Don’t… don’t kill , I surrender… I can cooperate, I know a lot of things… a lot of money.”
The soldiers ignored him, dragging him out of the basent like a dead dog.
…
The speed at which Texas “fell” exceeded everyone’s expectations, especially the Louisiana Federation, which had been watching from afar and was preparing to step in and reap the benefits.
President Floyd Rose absolutely did not believe that the xican Army, after such rapid advances, could maintain strong combat power.
He believed Victor’s troops must be dispersed and exhausted, at the end of their strength.
“They’ve taken Austin and Houston, but digesting them will take ti!” Rose growled to his military advisors, “The east bank of the Red River, from Tyler to Waco, that whole area is now a power vacuum! We must seize it!”
Under his strict orders, the Louisiana National Guard’s First Armored Cavalry Regint received orders to quickly advance toward Waco, creating a fait accompli and seizing the transportation hub.
Rose’s plan was bold; as long as his tanks planted the signs, Victor, to avoid a full-scale conflict with Louisiana, might likely tacitly accept the status quo and sit down to negotiate.
He underestimated Victor’s resolve and overestimated the combat capability of his own troops.
The Louisiana tank column rumbled forward along the interstate, the dust they raised covering the sky.
The soldiers were initially a bit nervous, but having encountered no significant resistance, only a few scattered Texan stragglers, they gradually relaxed, even adopting an attitude of arrogant militarized parade.
They did not know that their every move had long been relayed back to the xican frontline command by SR-71 reconnaissance planes flying overhead and precise intelligence provided by local puppet forces.
Goodrian’s orders were simple and direct: “Let them co in, choose a good spot, hit them hard, break their spine.”
The location was chosen 15 miles east of Waco, a stretch of open terrain with slight undulations, where the highway cut through, flanked by dense low oak forests and abandoned farm buildings, a perfect ambush site.
The most elite Guard Division of the Eastern xican Army had been waiting here in silence for a long ti.
When the leading tank battalion of Louisiana, completely unguarded, drove into the ambush circle, the sky suddenly changed color.
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