Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 1660 - 757: Don’t Relieve Yourself Anywhere! (Part 2)
Capítulo 1660: Chapter 757: Don’t Relieve Yourself Anywhere! (Part 2)
He spoke with forceful decisiveness.
But he didn’t provide any specific timeline, nor any guarantees. After delivering these hollow assurances, he could hardly wait to turn around, giving others a look, signaling them to quickly leave this “troublesome” place.
Leaving the wounded camp, they arrived at a relatively clean resting area.
Williams took a handkerchief handed by his assistant, wiping the non-existent sweat off his forehead, the facade of compassion he had forced just moments ago quickly fading from his face, replaced by a mixture of disgust and a relieved exhaustion.
He was the first to speak, his tone heavy:
“Gentlemen, you’ve all seen it. The situation is more serious than we imagined. These young men are in dire straits. We must do something, we must act immediately!”
He looked towards the Frenchman Durand and the other advisors, “I believe that merely dispatching a consultancy team is far from enough. We need more substantial help, a more direct intervention! I will immediately report to London, strongly recommending the deployment of additional medical aid and military observers, and consider providing more advanced defensive weapon systems.”
Durand leisurely lit a cigarette, took a drag, and said softly, “I agree with Mr. Williams’ view. Paris also believes that the ‘power vacuum’ and governance failures here are the main reasons for the humanitarian crisis and military passivity. Perhaps… we need to ‘guide’ them in establishing an effective command system.”
Representatives from other countries exchanged glances, their understanding unspoken.
What they saw was not only the miserable state of the wounded but also a chaotic, weak, yet resource-rich region, and the so-called “help” was rapidly being redefined.
“Indeed, we can’t let the Warriors shed both blood and tears!”
“The logistics system must be integrated by professionals.”
“Fragmented command is the biggest weakness…”
Echoing voices rose and fell, everyone calculating how to secure greater influence and potential benefits for their countries in this “aid.”
Williams looked at this group of colleagues who suddenly seemed “united in hatred against a common enemy,” nodding in satisfaction.
The performance was successful, crafting a radiant public image while steering the discussion towards deeper intervention.
As for that soldier with the severed arm and his desperate question… who remembers? It was just a marginal footnote in this grand political maneuvering.
The consultant team’s convoy continued down the potholed border road towards the next scheduled inspection site for material transfer.
Outside the car window, scenes of devastation swiftly passed by: burning farmhouses, abandoned vehicles, demolished bridges, each telling the brutal tale of war.
The atmosphere inside the vehicle was somewhat stifling.
Williams leaned back on the comfortable leather seat, the discomfort suppressed at the wounded camp now mixing with the bumpy ride, slowly transforming into a deep, dull ache in his stomach.
He frowned slightly, trying to adjust his posture, but the sinking, twisting pain became more pronounced.
The Deputy Governor of Kentucky, sitting next to him, keenly noticed the British noble’s slightly pale face and the tiny beads of sweat forming on his brow, inquiring softly with concern, “Mr. Williams, are you alright? Are you feeling unwell? The road conditions here are indeed quite poor.”
Williams forced a gentlemanly smile, unwilling to show weakness in front of outsiders, especially these local officials he internally regarded as “country bumpkins”: “It’s nothing, just… uh, maybe a little adjustment to the water and soil, or the beans at breakfast weren’t too fresh.”
He tried using humor to mask the embarrassment, but the churning sensation in his stomach suppressed any laughter.
Just then, an uncontrollable faint airflow escaped from his lower body, carrying a barely noticeable odor in the enclosed vehicle.
“Pfft~”
The horror of sudden silence filled the air.
Even though nobody looked at him, Williams’ complexion shifted instantly from white to red, then from red to green.
Terrible! It wasn’t just gas! There was a swelling sensation.
The urgent need like a tidal wave overtook him, accompanied by intense intestinal cramping, making it nearly impossible to sit upright. He clenched his legs tightly, slightly leaning forward, fingers gripping his knees firmly.
“Must… must stop the car!” Williams could no longer maintain any gentlemanly demeanor, squeezing the words out through clenched teeth, his voice carrying undeniable pain and urgency.
The soldier driving glanced in the rearview mirror, conflicted: “Sir, we are still near the border conflict zone, it’s not very safe. We’re less than twenty minutes away from the transfer station, can you hold on a bit longer?”
“I can’t hold on!” Williams almost growled, the intense pain causing him to lose all composure, “Now! Stop the car now! I order you to stop!” He felt that if he didn’t, the consequences would be unthinkable, marking a permanent stain on his noble career and diplomatic record!
The driver had no choice but to hit the brakes, and the convoy slowly came to a stop beside a grassy dirt slope on the roadside.
“What’s happening? Why are we stopping?” People in the following vehicles inquired over the radio.
The Deputy Governor of Kentucky picked up the radio, awkwardly explaining, “Mr. Williams is feeling unwell and needs to relieve himself.”
Williams couldn’t wait any longer. As soon as the car stopped, he flung open the door, scrambling out using both hands and feet, not even bothering to find a suitable spot, and staggered into a waist-deep patch of dense grass by the roadside, swiftly unbuckling his belt and squatting down.
