Working as a police officer in Mexico-Chapter 1704 - 768: Anthem of Courage

He knew that rescue might never come, but he had to give the soldiers hope, a reason to keep fighting.

At the same time, on the reverse slope of the western hills, at the Mexico Quick Reaction Brigade's frontline observation post.

Major Emilio Sanchez, the psychological warfare officer who proposed the "underwear humiliation" tactic, put down the binoculars and nodded to the battalion commander beside him: "The Italians have completely fallen into the trap. Their formation is in disarray, and command seems to be disconnected."

The battalion commander, a tough guy with a dark complexion and a scar on his face, gave a concise order over the radio: "'Artillery, extend fire, cover the southern edge of the depression and that creek shallow, prevent their escape from there. Mortars continue to hit their heavy fire points and personnel gathering areas."

The order was quickly executed.

A skilled infantry detachment from the Quick Reaction Brigade emerged from the forest on the hills, using the terrain as cover, swiftly moving towards the edge of the depression, clearing the Italians resisting with earthworks or vehicle wreckage, using automatic rifles, shotguns, and hand grenades. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

On the northern hills, several M113 armored vehicles fitted with heavy machine guns and automatic grenade launchers thundered down the gentle slope, deploying at the edge of the depression, using fierce firepower to continuously suppress the Italians, and gradually compressing their movement space.

Shells and mortar rounds continued to fall, but with increased precision, specifically targeting areas where the Italians tried to gather or set up defenses.

The Italian troops in the depression were completely divided into several segments.

Doomed.

Once cut off...

The battlefield situation changed.

At 10:20 AM, at the small mound in the northeast corner of the depression.

Major Marino was surrounded by about thirty people, including a few lightly wounded. They relied on several large rocks and fallen trees, barely forming a simple circular position. Ammunition was running low, and exhaustion and fear were etched on every face, but seeing the Major still there, still commanding, still fighting back, a trace of morale sustained them.

"Save your shots! Aim before you fire!"

Marino yelled to those around him while taking precise shots at the silhouette of a Mexican soldier trying to outflank them from the side, his uniform torn, the wound on his forehead already scabbed over.

A young Private First Class named Paul, from Sicily, operated an M2HB heavy machine gun he had dismantled from a damaged combat vehicle, defending a direction alone.

He gritted his teeth, conducting prolonged bursts at a Mexican M113 armored vehicle attempting to advance from the north side.

The 12.7mm bullets sparked off the armored vehicle, forcing it to temporarily retreat to seek cover.

"Good job, Paul!" Marino shouted.

But a Mexican sniper noticed this point of fire.

"Bang!"

A distinct sharp gunshot.

Paul's head jerked backward violently, a hole appeared on his helmet, red and white matter spewed out from the back of his head, and he slumped silently over the machine gun.

"Shit!!!"

"The machine gun cannot stop!" Marino, his eyes red, shouted at a nearby soldier, "Take over!"

The soldier hesitated for a moment, then scrambled over, pushed Paul's body aside, gripped the machine gun, and continued firing at likely enemy positions, though his aim had already deteriorated.

The pressure was mounting.

Mexican infantry squads, under the cover of armored vehicle firepower, steadily advanced from multiple directions, and grenades began landing in the Italians' makeshift positions.

"Major! We can't hold on! Surrender!!" a lieutenant shouted, his arm hit by stray bullets, crudely bandaged with torn cloth.

After all, living is better!

At that moment, the gunfire and explosions to their south suddenly lessened. Immediately, a chaotic shout erupted from the center of the depression, seemingly someone attempting to break out southward.

"An opportunity?" Marino felt a surge of inspiration.

But instantly, more intense machine gun fire and explosions erupted from the south; evidently, the Mexicans' reserved blockading firepower took effect, instantly shattering that breakout attempt, screams followed.

It's over.

The last bit of faint hope in Marino's heart extinguished. He looked at the faces around him, young and not so young, some silently praying, some numbly loading bullets, some with their gazes already blank.

He made his decision.

"Listen!" Marino's voice was remarkably clear amidst the gunfire and explosions, "We are surrounded, and reinforcements will not come."

The soldiers looked at him, their eyes full of various emotions.

"But, Italian soldiers cannot surrender so easily!!!!"

"At least, not kneeling! I order everyone, check your weapons and ammunition, and we will make one last charge, aiming for the rock area at the foot of the eastern hills, where there are more covers. We charge there, establish one last foothold, and then... leave it to fate."

Rather than being slowly worn down here, fight to the death, die like a soldier.

The main Italian history during World War II, is really embarrassing, sometimes... it's hard even for one's compatriots.

Damn it...

Captured, and they built their own prisoner camp, have you ever seen that?

Whenever seeing this, Marino and Bertolini felt uncomfortable at the Military Academy.

A must to cleanse the shame of the Roman Empire!!!

"Fix bayonets!" Marino ordered.

Those who were still able silently fixed bayonets to their rifles, or drew their pistols and daggers.

Magazines were checked again, the last grenade held tightly in hand.

"For Italy!" Marino shouted hoarsely, being the first to leap out of cover, charging towards the eastern hills, across that bullet-swept open ground.