Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 1676 - 762: Our Swords Are No Less Sharp! (Part 3)
He paused, casting his gaze over the crowd.
"At the same time, I have decided that due to unclear enemy situations and the partial achievement of our strategic objectives in the first phase offensive, namely effectively restraining and detecting the enemy's main movements, our division will shift into a comprehensive defensive posture. All units are to immediately cease advancing, consolidate existing defense lines, dig fortifications, and set up minefields. Without my direct orders, any proactive attacks larger than company scale are strictly prohibited. Our mission changes from offense to holding our ground here! Let the Mexicans know that the Italian army is not something they can easily shake!"
Officers looked at each other in dismay. "Shift to defense"? "Hold our ground here"? This is completely opposite to the spirited declarations before departure about "proving Italian elite" and "winning honor."
"But Colonel," a young operations staff officer couldn't help but speak up, "the next coordinated offensive plan from the NATO Joint Command..."
"Plans need to be adjusted according to the actual situation, Lieutenant." Luca interrupted him, leaving no room for doubt in his tone. "We have already identified some of the enemy's strengths and weaknesses with our blood. Now what we need is stability, not recklessness. Pass my orders down. Additionally, draft a combat report highlighting the resilience of our forces and the damage dealt to the enemy, while blurring the specific numbers of our losses and the nature of the engagements. Just say we successfully attracted the enemy's main force, creating opportunities for neighboring units. Go and do it immediately."
"Yes... Colonel," the staff officer reluctantly complied, turned around to pass the orders.
Luca walked back to his temporary office and shut the door.
He needed to be alone. He had to face potential inquiries from the NATO Command, face queries from domestic media (once the news leaked), face the questioning eyes of his subordinates, and constantly guard against possible follow-up strikes from the Mexicans.
He walked to the makeshift desk, where a map of the Komodo River Valley and surrounding areas lay spread out. Death Canyon was broadly circled in red ink, like an ugly wound. He stared at it, as if he could hear the soldiers' final screams and explosions.
"It's not my fault..."
He whispered to himself, as if in a trance, "It's the enemy's cunning... the allies' indifference, the terrible terrain..."
But these excuses couldn't even convince himself. The person at the top of the command chain was him. He approved the assault plan, underestimated the enemy, failed to recognize the trap in time.
What he could do now was strictly execute his father's "quail strategy." While being a turtle is shameful, it's far better than becoming the next wiped-out unit or being sent to a military tribunal.
Just then, a report was heard from outside the door.
"Colonel, British command has called asking about our next offensive schedule and stated their right wing is ready and hopes we can proceed as planned to tie down enemy forces."
Luca took a deep breath, picked up the office phone, and said in the most steady voice possible, "Tell them: During the last phase of operations, my unit engaged fiercely with the enemy's main forces, and the troops urgently need rest and supplies, while some technical equipment requires maintenance. Additionally, enemy defenses directly in front of our line remain strong, forcing an advance may lead to unnecessary casualties. I ask the British to be patient. Once my unit completes its rest and further reconnaissance, we'll further discuss the coordinated plan. For now, my unit will hold our current positions to ensure stability of the front line."
After hanging up the phone, a bitter curve appeared on his lips. Look, this is politics. Turning "crushing defeat" into a "fierce engagement," turning "retreat" into "ensuring front line stability." The British must see through the evasiveness and reluctance, but what can they say? They themselves didn't intend to truly help the Italians.
A few minutes later, the French also sent a similar "inquiry." Luca put them off with almost the same wording.
After finishing all this, he felt a wave of exhaustion.
He knew from today onwards, in the eyes of true soldiers, Luca Bertolini was probably already "dead."
He now resembled a useless person!
...
April 22, 1996, southern Indiana, at the border area of the "Freedom Alliance" and Mexico's control zone. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶
About thirty kilometers northeast of the Komodo River Valley lies a small village almost impossible to find on a map, Saint Louis Louisiana. Now, it has become the first key node that the second paratrooper regiment of the French Foreign Legion must capture under NATO Allied Army's "frontal assault" plan.
The village is situated at the intersection of two county roads, featuring a dozen wooden farmhouses, a grain warehouse, a white steepled church, and surrounded by irrigation channels and windbreaks.
During peacetime, it's just a peaceful community of over two hundred people. Now, a reinforced company of Mexico's 7th Mechanized Infantry Brigade has been constructing defensive fortifications here for five whole days.
"They're not Italians."
Mexican company commander Captain Ernesto Salcedo crouched behind the observation post in the church bell tower, whispering with binoculars.
"Look at their movement tactics, alternate cover, armored vehicles consistently maintaining position on the infantry's flank. This is a professional army."
???
Are Italians not a regular force?!
Rome orthodoxy!
Through the binoculars, he saw about two kilometers away, a dozen French Army VAB wheeled armored personnel carriers and four AMX-10RC wheeled tank destroyers deploying in a tactical formation.
The blue, white, and red circular insignia glistened in the sunset on the vehicle bodies. In the far distance, two "Little Antelope" armed helicopters circled low like bloodthirsty dragonflies.
