February 7, 1990, on the beach of Guadalupe Island.
Night!
Gunfire was everywhere, accompanied by screams.
"Move closer! Bring the boat up along the beach!" Benjamin, holding a telescope, saw the assault boats impeded by a barrage of machine gun fire and, quite irritated, shouted his orders.
A Ro-Ro... storming the beach?
What a micromanagent expert!
The last one to die in such a way was the "Anti-Japanese Hero," "Brutal Mutaguchi!"
The 800-plus ton Ro-Ro vessel thundered forward, commanded toward the northwest section of the beach. Oddly enough, the bullets seed to have eyes of their own, simply whizzing above the ship.
The hull remained unscathed?
This must surely be good fortune smiling upon them!
Thud~!
With a heavy impact, the Ro-Ro vessel lurched, making everyone on board stagger and stumble. Benjamin, gripping the railing, was excited, "Disembark, get off quickly, fellows, we have already won half the battle!"
He clearly was not a student of world military history.
Otherwise, he would have understood that the most dangerous place in a landing operation lies... on the beach!
More than 300 drug traffickers, ard with M16s, rushed out of the cabin under the lead of their boss.
"Spread out! Spread out! Watch out for the machine guns!" The boss did have so tactical sense, "Bend down as you move forward."
He hadn’t even finished speaking when there was a boom!
The boss, nearly 200 pounds heavy, was directly blasted into the sky, and when he fell back down, his body had been split in two.
"Landmines! There are landmines!"
In a panic, many drug traffickers started running around, and one explosion after another resulted in the 60 buried M14 landmines setting off a series of blasts.
Boom boom boom boom...
The entire beach was overturned anew.
Those lucky enough were rely legless, lying on the ground and howling.
Benjamin’s eyes bulged, his whole body feeling cold as ice.
Sounds of whooshing passed above his head, and looking up, he saw rows of rockets, trailing their tails, coming in at a flat trajectory!
There appeared to be more than 150 of them...
"¡Mierda! (Damn it!)" Benjamin muttered under his breath.
The whole Ro-Ro and the surrounding hundreds of ters were instantly engulfed by the rockets.
Kennedy Heisenberg covered his ears, looking at the distant inferno and speaking into a walkie-talkie, "Reload! Fire another round!"
With the Katyusha, all you needed to do was prop up its wheels with logs to fire horizontally.
In the Battle of Berlin in 1945, the Soviet Army lowered the angle of Katyusha rockets, opting for a flat trajectory that instantly overpowered the German defenses and checkpoints, turning them all into nothing more than decorations—useless!
Hundreds were instantly turned into souls departed.
The officers, hearing the command, hurriedly loaded the rockets, and with Kennedy’s gesture, another 160 rockets were launched toward the fiery beach.
Who the hell can afford such luxury!
Even Pablo, who boasts a force of 40,000 n, isn’t that lavish, right?
But between Vic and Pablo, who is more formidable?
The latter’s power is at its zenith now, an opportunity for a showdown.
Victor’s tactic was simple, "Let them in and hit them!" Once the drug traffickers disembarked and set foot on the coast, escaping would not be easy. Under this barrage of fire, who could survive?
And on the Pacific Ocean,
The "Duke Victor" was cutting its way in and out amongst the remaining Ro-Ro vessels!
With two 7.62mm caliber machine guns at the bow and stern, helted officers were spraying the Ro-Ro vessels with fire, and casings clattered from the ejection ports, quickly piling into a small mound.
"Radar search, lock on!"
"Torpedo launch is ready!"
The combat command center on the patrol boat awaited the captain’s order.
"Fire!"
The fire control operator pressed the button.
From below the patrol boat, a 533mm torpedo tube erged, the surrounding water vibrating, with a number of small fish circling around.
A torpedo was ejected from the tube, rushing toward an opposing Ro-Ro vessel.
About a minute later,
The Ro-Ro vessel erupted in flas, its hull imdiately tilting, taking on seawater.
A warship attacking a Ro-Ro ship…
Isn’t this just like a high school athlete pumling a primary school student?
On the "Duke Victor" alone, there were 20 different types of cannons. How could they stand against such firepower?
"Save ! Save !!"
Dozens of drug traffickers clung to the railing, screaming pitifully with snot and tears streaming, hoping their fleeing comrades might pull them to safety.
But who would be so noble to still be a damned drug trafficker?
The captain watched this scene, smiling at the corner of his mouth.
"Aim the machine guns at the drug traffickers hanging from the hull, fire!"
The command was relayed down the line.
The officers adjusted their machine gun barrels, pulling the trigger at the crying traffickers.
Have you ever seen balloon shooting in a square?
That’s just because those street vendors don’t have machine guns. If they did, they would understand how thrilling a strafing run can be.
The bullets tore through the traffickers’ arms, and with a mix of despair and screams, they fell into the sea. One sweep from the gun was like the Grim Reaper tallying souls.
So traffickers couldn’t bear it any longer and leaped into the sea from the tilting vessel, shouting loudly.
But apart from splashing waves, there was simply no killing power.
"Continue the pursuit!"
Seeing the situation turn sour, the other drug trafficking group’s ferries fled helter-skelter. They were cunning, letting Benjamin charge in first while watching the enemy being bombarded by firepower—who else would have the guts to follow?
But thinking of escaping?
Did you ask the abbot... I an, did you ask Victor?
Ard helicopters in the sky strafed the boats below!
The drug traffickers on deck scrambled towards the control room as the prepared EDM assault team officers rode on assault boats towards the fleeing ferries. After storming aboard via ladders, they first threw smoke grenades, then sprayed bullets inside indiscriminately.
This fully demonstrated a principle.
Compared to the regular army...
Drug traffickers were just small-ti.
...
The battle lasted until 7 am before gradually quieting down.
The whole of Guadalupe Island seed as if it had been refurbished.
Having an intact corpse was practically a miracle in itself.
Victor was followed by his bodyguards as he kicked a severed arm off a rock. Behind him, Casare’s face was lit with a smile, holding the battle report in his hand, "Boss, we have killed approximately 600 drug traffickers, with another 500 missing at sea, 2 ferries were destroyed, and 6 captured, including about 500 drug traffickers and 90 rcenaries. We also brought down 3 helicopters."
"We lost 7 officers with 27 wounded!"
Victor raised an eyebrow, "How were they sacrificed?"
Casare’s smile faded, "An outpost was blown up by a rcenary’s helicopter; the officers didn’t make it out."
"Pick out those rcenaries and kill them. The rest of the drug traffickers... take them to the minefield to clear mines! Those who survive, bind with shackles and parade them through the streets!"
That harsh?
"Boss, this will stir up public opinion; a lot of eyes are on this."
"Do you think I care?"
"Worry about public opinion when killing drug traffickers? If anyone has a problem, they can co find on Guadalupe Island. If any human rights activists are standing and making statents, then ask them to kneel down!"
"Here, my word is law!"
Casare swallowed hard, sensibly nodding his head.
He relayed Victor’s orders.
Kennedy stood in front of the captives with EDM officers, eyeing the differently dressed rcenaries and waving to his n behind him.
The officers rushed forward and dragged the rcenaries out.
"What are you doing? What are you doing? Let go of , I demand you follow the Geneva Conventions; I am a prisoner of war."
But no one paid him any mind.
The Geneva Conventions?
On Guadalupe Island, "Victor’s Quotes" were followed!
Seeing the tantrums do no good, a rcenary howled, "These police are going to kill us, they’re demons!"
Suddenly, many captives panicked, and the noise and clamor erupted.
"Demons?"
"We believe in Victor!"
Kennedy pulled back the bolt of his submachine gun and swept across the drug traffickers who had stood up. He kicked the nearest captive to the ground and pressed his boot firmly on the man’s chest.
"Director’s orders, for those causing trouble, kill half first!" an officer shouted from a distance.
Kennedy, known internally as "Loyal Dog", was said to be extraordinarily devoted to the Director among EDM officers.
Whatever the Director said was done to the letter.
Kennedy nodded to the ssenger, "Sorry, you’ve angered the sir." He lifted his hand and motioned to the crowd, "Left side lives, right side dies!"
EDM officers raised their guns and opened fire!
The helpless drug traffickers at last understood how the innocent civilians they once faced must have felt in their final pleas.
"I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die!"
"My mother is still waiting for to co ho!"
The captives cried and ran.
Kennedy and the others didn’t bother to chase; a road roller followed behind and pursued the traffickers. Without panic, they waited until the traffickers reached the seashore and howled helplessly at the ocean. Then the road roller simply rolled over them.
Anyone with a brain knows how heavy a road roller is.
The sound of bones breaking accompanied the screams.
Had a reporter captured this scene, it would have gone viral—only now there was no internet to spread it.
But did Uncle Victor care?
Death to drug traffickers!
The captives who were chosen to live on the left side collapsed on the ground, lifeless. That’s how people are; as long as they themselves survive, why struggle over soone else’s death?
After everyone on the other side was killed.
Kennedy looked at the survivors on the left, "Gentlen, now it’s your turn to be active."
"Take them to clear the mines! Those who survive might have a chance to leave Guadalupe Island!"
Clearing mines!
The captives’ eyes were filled with despair, but upon hearing the latter part of the sentence, they regained a glimr of hope, each person believing they were the chosen one.
They wouldn’t be so unlucky.
Kennedy watched the group.
I said you could leave Guadalupe Island.
But I never ntioned providing a boat.
Swim back on your own!
...
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