Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 1682 - 763: I Truly Don’t Understand What It’s Like to Be Beaten Up by a Group! (Part 3)
Capítulo 1682: Chapter 763: I Truly Don’t Understand What It’s Like to Be Beaten Up by a Group! (Part 3)
Cavendish’s face was ashen. He had already lost five men, and several more were injured. They hadn’t even fully controlled the edge of the industrial area.
“Command center, Company B is encountering fierce resistance in the industrial area. The enemy is dispersed and flexible, using snipers, RPGs, and IEDs extensively. We need more troops to sweep through, or…” He paused, “…or consider plowing through the place with heavy artillery and airstrikes.”
The battalion commander’s response came quickly but with resignation: “Cavendish, the airstrike request was denied. We need the buildings as cover. The French and Germans are experiencing similar situations in other directions. Hold on, Company A will apply pressure from the main street in the south to pin them down.”
As the British Army struggled in bitter combat in the industrial district, the German 26th Airborne Brigade’s battle group, riding “Marder” infantry fighting vehicles and trucks, approached the Old Town from the west along the roads by the White River bank.
The German commander, Major Schmidt, had learned from the Italians’ lesson and did not advance rashly.
He dispatched elite scouts and engineers to carefully check if the roads and bridges were rigged with explosives, using thermal imaging to scan buildings. However, the Mexican defenders were equally cunning. They hid snipers and anti-tank teams deep within the thick stone buildings, blocking thermal signals and making detection difficult.
A German “Marder” infantry fighting vehicle cautiously turned a street corner, its 20mm cannon on the turret swiveling warily.
Suddenly, the curtains on the third floor of a four-story apartment building across the street were abruptly thrown open, and the barrel of a “Carl Gustaf” recoilless rifle emerged!
“Anti-tank! Three o’clock direction!” the vehicle commander shouted inside.
But it was too late.
“Whoosh—boom!”
The 84mm shaped charge round accurately hit the side of the “Marder’s” turret.
Although the “Marder’s” armor was stronger than that of the British Army’s “Saxon,” it was still penetrated when hit in a weak spot at such close range. A secondary explosion occurred inside the turret, setting the entire vehicle ablaze.
“Open fire! Suppress that building!” German soldiers quickly scattered, and the roar of the MG3 general-purpose machine gun instantly reverberated through the street, bullets showering the window like water, riddling the wall with holes. Meanwhile, the Germans’ 120mm mortar began to launch suppressive fire deeper into the Old Town.
However, the Mexican snipers chose more valuable targets.
A German radio operator, leaning against an armored vehicle while trying to establish communications, with his antenna conspicuous against the overcast sky.
“Bang!”
A cold shot came from the direction of the church bell tower.
The bullet hurtled over 500 meters, precisely piercing his neck. The radio operator collapsed silently, blood gushing out.
“The church bell tower!” The Germans also identified this vantage point. Immediately, gunfire and automatic grenade launcher fire poured towards the church. But the bell tower’s structure was solid, and the Mexican sniper had already relocated after taking a shot.
The urban battle turned into a war of attrition and hide-and-seek.
The Germans attempted to clear buildings with the autocannons and machine guns on their infantry fighting vehicles, but the Mexican defenders frequently maneuvered using sewers, basements, and internal building passageways, shifting from one firing port to another, relentlessly harassing with cold shots and rockets. Each advance cost the Germans casualties, and clearing a building often required a squad or even a platoon, taking hours.
Herman Bark listened to reports from various places, the radio filled with the sounds of intense firefights and casualty reports.
“On the south main street, the Polish assault has been blocked by our pre-set explosives and crossfire, but they have brought in tanks, bombarding the barricades.”
“In the eastern industrial area, the British are tied up, but they’re calling in more troops.”
“In the western Old Town, the Germans are cautious, advancing slowly but under heavy pressure.”
“Our ammunition consumption is rapid, especially for anti-tank weapons and explosives.”
Torres maintained a calm demeanor. “Tell all points to conserve ammunition, prioritize targeting officers, radio operators, machine gunners, and armored vehicles. Don’t hold any point too rigidly; hit and run. Our task is to delay and exhaust them, not to die with the positions. If necessary, we can abandon outer buildings and shrink back to the town center.”
He glanced at the map, then at his watch. The battle had only been going on for half a day. “How’s the preparation at the chemical plant?”
“As per your order, several key valves have been dealt with, ready to ‘light up the fireworks’ at any moment.”
“Good.” A flicker of cold light crossed Torres’s eyes. “Wait until the Germans or British approach that area, then give them a surprise.”
Later that afternoon, at the edge of the industrial district.
More than ten hours of high-intensity combat.
Sergeant Major Cavendish and his platoon finally linked up with part of Company A, barely securing a small area near the town center in the industrial district.
The soldiers, exhausted, leaned against the walls, watching their surroundings warily, the air thick with smoke, the metallic tang of blood, and the peculiar smell of rust and machine oil characteristic of the factories.
“Sergeant Major, we can’t keep going like this,” a dirt-smeared corporal panted, “It seems like we hit a few, but they always have more people, and they keep popping up in unexpected places.”
Cavendish said nothing, just checked his ammunition. He felt it too; the town seemed to have come alive with malice. Every window, every doorway, every pile of rubble could spit out a fatal bullet.
Suddenly, the soldier on guard in front issued a warning: “Movement! One o’clock direction, that red-brick building!”
Everyone immediately raised their guns. The window on the second floor of that building moved slightly, as if a figure darted past.
“Sniper?” Cavendish signaled the machine gunner to be ready to suppress.
However, no figure appeared; instead, something drifted out of the window—a white cloth, waved gently on a stick.
“White flag?” The British soldiers were stunned.
“Do they want to surrender?”
Cavendish frowned, alarm bells ringing in his mind.
In such intense urban warfare, the sudden appearance of a local surrender signal was too unusual.
“Don’t let your guard down! It could be a trap!” he shouted.
But it was too late.
Just as everyone’s attention was drawn to the white flag, from a low vent in a warehouse long deemed “cleared” on their flank, two light machine guns suddenly emerged!
“Ratatatatata!”
A hail of bullets swept through, and four or five British soldiers, completely exposed on the street, fell instantly!
“Damn it! It’s a trap! Open fire!” Cavendish screamed, his L85A1 firing furiously at the warehouse vent.
And from that same building flying the white flag, bullets were now shooting out.
An intense firefight erupted again. This time, the Mexican defenders seemed to have employed more automatic firepower. The British were pinned behind the makeshift cover, unable to lift their heads. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮
“Call for fire support! We need mortar coverage on that warehouse area!” Cavendish yelled into the radio.
The German mortars behind the line responded, shells whistling down near the warehouse, the blast waves blowing off the roof.
Cavendish seized the opportunity to lead the able-bodied soldiers to fall back, regrouping with the main force of Company A. He counted heads, his heart bleeding.
In just this afternoon, his platoon had lost another third of its men.
“These bastards… play by no rules…” A soldier whose arm was hit gritting his teeth, cursing as a medic bandaged him.
Rules? Cavendish chuckled bitterly.
In this meat grinder, survival is the only rule.
As night began to fall, the gunfire did not cease; it grew more eerie and deadly under the cover of darkness.
Cold shots, ambushes, small-scale infiltration and counter-infiltration, continually played out in the ruins of Logansport. Tracer rounds occasionally cut through the darkness, brief explosions illuminating a grim expanse of shattered walls.
Urban combat…
Especially modern urban combat, is not that easy.
Casualties were severe.
At this time, stationed in Mexico, Victor…
Stared at the casualty report, his brow furrowing…
“Boss, Europe has stopped exporting raw materials for weapons to us, and over in Asia, there are also parties displeased with us, which has severely impacted the global financial system,” Casare said softly.
“Several countries are threatening that if the war doesn’t stop and financial order isn’t restored, they will step in to help NATO and wouldn’t mind if we all go down together!”
…
