Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 1673 - 761: The Thirty-Six Stratagems: Heavy Blow! (Part 3)

A hint of surprise was in the voice of the British Brigadier General on the other end of the line, "Komodo River Valley? Colonel Bertolini, according to our prior division, that area is within your responsibility. My units are currently advancing towards the predetermined target and have also encountered fierce enemy resistance, leaving me unable to immediately allocate troops. Are you sure it's the Mexican main forces ambushing you? How large is their scale?"

"I... Their firepower is extremely fierce, at least including a group of heavy artillery and an armored brigade! My spearheading battalion might already be finished!" Bertolini didn't have time to describe in detail, he just urgently needed assistance.

"An armored brigade and a heavy artillery group?" The British Brigadier General's tone was even more skeptical, "Colonel, pardon me, but the overall Mexican forces in this direction are limited, how can they concentrate such a large force against your assault direction? Could it be a trick, or... did you unfortunately run into their reserve forces? I need more accurate intelligence to make a decision."

"Intelligence?! My soldiers are dying! That is the most accurate intelligence!" Bertolini was shaking with anger, but he suppressed his fury, "Brigadier General, for the sake of the Allies, please provide artillery cover immediately for the east exit of the Komodo River Valley, or deploy air units to expel their attack planes! Otherwise, my troops will be completely annihilated!"

"I will try to coordinate as best as I can, but you know, air and artillery support requires planning and approval, which takes time. I suggest you immediately organize your follow-up troops to solidify the defense line and try to meet up for a breakthrough. Stay in contact." The British Brigadier General said before hastily hanging up, his perfunctory tone barely concealed.

"Bastard! British bastard!" Bertolini slammed the receiver down on the phone, then immediately requested to connect with the left-wing Foreign Legion.

This time, the connection was quicker, but the reaction from the French Durand Colonel was equally disheartening.

"Bertolini? My old friend, I heard you encountered trouble?"

"I am sorry, but we have also detected signs of Mexican Army activity at our front, which might be precursors to their counterattack. My legion must maintain its full structure to deal with possible main offensives. Regarding support, large-scale maneuvers across responsibility zones require Joint Command approval, which you know well, is a complex procedure. And are you sure you need brigade-scale support? Maybe it was just harassment by small groups?"

"Harassment?! Durand! An elite battalion of mine has been wiped out! Is this harassment?!" Bertolini felt like he was going mad.

"Calm down, my friend. Perhaps your men were too aggressive? We all know Italian boys can sometimes... be quite enthusiastic."

There was a taunt in Durand's words, "I will report your situation to the Command, but you better stabilize your position on your own first. Good luck."

The communication was cut off again.

Bertolini slumped into his chair, his face drained of color.

Just then, worse news came in.

"Colonel! Bad news! The Mexican Army has broken through our flank covering positions and is maneuvering towards the command post! They are moving fast!"

The command post plunged into chaos, with staff officers scrambling to gather documents and prepare for relocation.

Bertolini knew that all was lost. His ambition, his dream of vindication, his effort to prove the "Italian elite," had been mercilessly crushed by reality in just a few hours. He had not only lost valuable vanguard forces, but even the command post might not be safe.

"Retreat... order all units to retreat in full! Fall back to the attack starting position!" He gave the order with the last of his strength, his voice hoarse and full of endless regret and despair.

Meanwhile, in the French command post, officers exchanged meaningful glances.

"Of course, I believe what the Italians said!"

"As for why not help him?"

Durand took a drag of his cigarette, smiling as he said to his subordinates, "North America can only accommodate so many people; some being eliminated means we naturally get to have more!"

"No one would complain about having too much food, right?"

Goodness... NATO, even now, is fraught with infighting.

I have to say, Europe is something else!

...