Working as a police officer in Mexico

"Read!" Horatio Herbert Kitchener's voice appeared next to him.

The staff hurriedly nodded, "Juarez is under massive artillery attack."

"Type of shells."

"M270 multiple rocket launcher."

"Conventional shells have an effective range of 40 kilometers. Deploy UAVs quickly to locate and capture."

"Yes!"

The surrounding staff responded in unison and swiftly went about their tasks urgently yet orderly.

As long as the UAV identifies a specific position and transmits it over, watch me blast them to pieces!

Damn it.

You have American equipment, don't I have it too?!

Casare called out the communications officer just now, "How is Juarez?"

"General Otto Moritz Walter Model said he vows to live and die with Juarez!"

Victor smoked, his gaze slowly becoming serious.

You've got to hold on!

…

Juarez!

White light rose on the horizon, as if the earth was reborn.

Artillery fire streaked across the sky above the city, tears ripping the night as flashes of fire appeared and then disappeared, followed by deafening explosions.

Among buildings, explosions occurred one after another, those once towering structures now reduced to ruins, debris piled like mountains.

Street greenery was scorched and blackened, its branches lifelessly drooping, resembling frightened old men, hunched over.

The paved cobblestone roads cracked, spider-web-like, a busy marketplace once bustling with people, now dead silent. Occasionally, a few terrified stray dogs scurried through, their barks echoing over the ruins...

Can't say it's a tragedy...

Only say, artillery is truly "the most brutal weapon humans invented."

Siblings who have fought U.S. military in the Middle East know well the U.S. military's Three Axes: artillery bombardment, aerial bombardment, naval bombardment...

Infantry tanks advance together.

Blind punches kill the master.

In an inconspicuous room in Juarez.

Otto Moritz Walter Model, wearing a helmet, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep all night, holding binoculars, watching the parachutes falling from afar, eyelids twitching, "Paratroopers, know which unit?"

"Combat team of the 2nd Airborne Infantry Brigade, 82nd Division," said the accompanying staff officer.

"They really think highly of me, they want to play positional warfare with me."

Otto Moritz Walter Model took a deep breath, the air defense weapons within his city nearly destroyed by U.S. military shells, damn... these Yanks coordinate their operations too well.

Before he could take a breath, the U.S. military paratroopers were already airdropped.

"Commander, the U.S. military has 10 more C-130s heading to the rear of Juarez."

"They want to block our retreat and prevent reinforcements, and don't want us to escape, damn, they're slicing the battlefield into pieces, do they think their combat skills surpass ours? Dead set on us?"

A map naturally appeared in Otto Moritz Walter Model's mind.

One showing Juarez's frontline, where two divisions are blocked from retreat, while Juarez itself is a war zone, and there's another battle point at Juarez's rear.

This is not treating the 82nd Division as men!

You think everyone is Rambo and can go hard?

Admit the 82nd Division dare...

It's also the unit the U.S. military consistently replenishes with the most personnel, always smashing through the front lines, as in the Gulf War, they arrived first.

An anger at being underestimated surged from his heart.

"Don't mind the rear, trust the allies!"

"Juarez has one division of my Guards and the 89th Reserve, I refuse to believe he can take us down!"

At this moment...

Allies are rushing on the way!

...