Working as a police officer in Mexico

Colonel Barry Thomas was pissed off, "Fucking Spaniards."

As expected, not a single good one among them.

But there was nothing he could do, since they had autonomous rights. Even though they were under the central government, they could fight if they wanted or retreat when they didn't want to, and no one could make arrangements for them.

"Colonel, let's pull out first," the Chief of Staff whispered, then said in a voice that only the two of them could hear, "We can't lose all our soldiers; they are our foundation. Otherwise, when we go back, the title of colonel won't be yours anymore."

"We should retain some strength."

Colonel Barry Thomas narrowed his eyes, a chill running through his heart.

Many in Mexico's military hierarchy were already showing signs of "different loyalties," and it became apparent. In these chaotic times, only with soldiers and followers could one have money. Popovich can be President?

Why can't I challenge it?

You should know, Mexico has a strong history of military coups.

After all, the military is full of men.

Do you know why many viewers of talk shows are women?

And why can't you let men idle too much in the military?

Because three men together will come up with ideas.

Just like now...

The Chief of Staff is telling the colonel to conserve troops!

Colonel Barry Thomas fell silent, glanced at the other party, and slowly nodded, "Retreat!"

"Not going to make one more charge?" Oermo Cavaleiro asked with furrowed brows from the side.

"My soldiers are also soldiers. If you think you can take it, leave it to you French."

"Fall back 10 kilometers!"

"Yes!"

The Spaniards didn't expect the Mexicans to be so tough; they paused for a moment, some excitement bubbling in their heads, but reason told them there was no need to be petty. They took a deep look at the "China" village and left with gloomy faces.

Fighting can't get to your head!

John Baslone looked at the piles of dead bodies, his hand trembling as he attempted to grab a cigarette. He hadn't felt it during the fight, but after it ended, the numbness in his hands was obvious; the recoil was still there.

A cigarette was passed over.

He looked up and saw it was a sergeant; he took it with his mouth, and the other man hurried to light it for him.

Out of the blue, John Baslone saw around a dozen wounded standing among the dead shouting "Solomon," "Get someone over here."

The sergeant nodded and ran over, bringing a wounded man over.

"How could Solomon disappear?"

The medic, being a direct subordinate, of course, knew, especially since the other was a top graduate from "Tijuana Medical College," who could have been a doctor, but he volunteered for the military, asking to be sent to the most dangerous unit.

Therefore, he was assigned to the 4th Division's Parachute Regiment.

Colonel Kurt Student thought he was a treasure and had to be well taken care of. On the battlefield, a good doctor was crucial to survival.

After all, wounded soldiers are valuable assets. If the mortality rate is decreased and the wounded can quickly return to fighting condition, it would significantly impact the battle.

The wounded man was a rookie, still crying and sniffling, and spoke of Solomon's feats of "furious killing" of eight men.

Both John Baslone and the sergeant beside him listened, stunned!

Fiercely explosive!

Are all scholars that aggressive?

"Quick, search! Alive or dead, we have to see him!"

A group of men hurriedly searched the battlefield; finally, about twenty minutes later, someone found Benjamin Solomon. He was sprawled over a machine gun, with more than a dozen wounds, from both blades and bullets.

"He's still alive, still alive!"

An old soldier checked his breath and carotid artery, his eyes lighting up as he shouted. Everyone frantically carried him to an open area.

"Commander, Solomon is still alive."

John Baslone rushed over, anxious and upon seeing the other's condition, hurriedly grasped his hand.

"Needs urgent medical treatment, otherwise..." a medic said gravely.

"Report to command, request a medevac helicopter, and also, report Solomon's achievements."

The accompanying radio operator quickly acknowledged.

Looking at Benjamin Solomon with admiration.

In an army filled with the strong, he would be considered a warrior king.

In the future...

There definitely won't be any issues with upset doctors.

When Tijuana Command Center received this "message," Horatio Herbert Kitchener was also dumbstruck, but the next second, he planned to make Benjamin Solomon a standard-bearer.

In this situation, they desperately needed such a tough man.

"The 1st Company of the 338th Parachute Regiment has seized China, the bridge has been blown up, and the 61st Brigade can't fly across. Should we instruct them to move?" Deputy Commander Kennedy asked.

"Keep transporting soldiers over there, provide them with manpower, and when necessary, allow Commander John Baslone to lead soldiers into the central government area for guerrilla warfare, and wreak havoc from within."

Horatio Herbert Kitchener's finger landed on the map at Nuevo Leon, "Order Rommel and the others to regain the entire state by July 4th!"

"And to advance directly south."

"That urgent? Shouldn't we let them rest a bit?" Kennedy asked in astonishment. He was without any psychological burden; at first, he was the military's top leader, but now the other party took over as the supreme commander, and he even breathed a sigh of relief.

He knew his own capabilities.

It was just a matter of following the general earlier...

Choice often outweighs effort.

With the support of a patron, even a pig can become Marshal Tianpeng.

Horatio Herbert Kitchener passed a piece of intelligence across the table, "There's no time to lose, the troops of the Popovich Government are on the move, and the so-called elite 1st Brigade has already been moved to the border of Guanajuato State."

"I want you to take charge of Jalisco."

Kennedy nodded, "Of course, no problem. As long as I'm alive, those bastards won't set foot on our turf."

The two men looked at each other.

Their hands clasped tightly together.

Meanwhile, at the British Ministry of Defense.

After the "Invincible" fleet was attacked, it turned into chaos inside, with calls being made to important departments.

Defense Minister Baron Dragovi Jeffrey Ha Lisi sat in his own seat with furrowed brows, hands crossed.

"Defense Minister, the call isn't going through," a secretary said with a mournful face.

"Keep trying, you must get me in touch with Victor!"

It was total anarchy, this was Great Britain!

That aircraft carrier is the territory of the United Kingdom. To attack it at will, isn't that an act of war?

"Defense Minister, urgent telegram!"

A senior official rushed in from outside, his face filled with panic, "The Invincible has surrendered!"

"?????"

He didn't suppress his voice at all, and the officials outside who were busy at work suddenly stopped their tasks.

Baron Dragovi Jeffrey Ha Lisi glared, snatched the message from the other's hand, glanced over it, and suddenly felt dizzy, clutching his chest as he sat down in his chair.

The secretary beside him scrambled over, pulled out a drawer and took out a nitroglycerin pill to pop into his mouth.

This old man, who had survived since World War II, nearly died on the spot.

"Surrender..."

"Who allowed them to surrender!"

"They are tarnishing the reputation of the Royal Navy!"

After calming down, Baron Dragovi Jeffrey Ha Lisi muttered tremblingly, his expression as if mourning the death of a father.

The senior official beside him patted his chest, lowering his voice, "Defense Minister, it's better to surrender than to be sunk. Our finances... we can't afford to rebuild the Navy again, but if we surrender, we can negotiate with the Mexicans to buy it back."

"Our Navy... is left with only two aircraft carriers!"

The words came out pleadingly.

This once mighty master of the seas now had to cut its clothing and rations because of economic circumstances. Operating an aircraft carrier even once cost a lot of money. The annual fuel expenses for an aircraft carrier easily exceeded $365 million, not even including the fuel costs of fighter jets.

A carrier and its battle group usually have 5,000 officers and men, with an average annual cost of about $100,000 per person, totaling $500 million!

The United States's Kennedy-class aircraft carriers cost $14 billion over 50 years.

Considering inflation, the cost would be even higher.

Although the Invincible was a "light aircraft carrier", it still cost money to build.

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Parliament wasn't willing to approve the funds!

The Navy was going to be broke.

War, after all, was fought with money.

The hands of Defense Minister Baron Dragovi Jeffrey Ha Lisi trembled slightly in mid-air, shaking, but ultimately fell powerlessly.

"Order Prince of Wales to return home, send a clear code to Mexico, requesting they ensure the safety of our ships and personnel."

"That's all we can do."

When the old man spoke these words, it was as if all his strength had been drained, and the officials standing next to him were all filled with dismay.

In just a few decades...

The Royal Navy had fallen to such a state.

It truly was...

Damn it!

...