Working as a police officer in Mexico

Casare had never fought in a war. Find your next read at My Virtual Library Empire

He rarely exchanged fire with drug traffickers, and when he had been a jail guard, he would quickly flee if things seemed amiss; you couldn't say he was utterly routed, but it still wasn't a good look.

Yet, when the army suddenly raided this area, he got all fired up!

Had Jason Bourne not grabbed him, he would have already rushed out with his rifle.

"Calm down, sir, leave the professional work to the professionals."

If he died here,

Victor could ensure that Michoacán would not sheathe its blade for seven days.

Bang!

The cannon on the M1A1 Abrams tank roared, and a building in the distance collapsed outright, like a set of blocks that had lost a corner, thunderously falling!

Casare's eyes widened as he swallowed his saliva, and the adrenaline that had been surging courageously suddenly plummeted. Glancing at Jason Bourne beside him, he gave a wry smile, nodded, and was pulled into a small cabin in the suburbs.

There were quite a few soldiers spread out guarding the area.

"Manstein can handle it, right!" Casare nervously looked at the other.

"The soldiers under Victor always achieve the impossible. What we need to do is just to complete our mission!" said Jason Bourne seriously, "You should trust them, they... are the general's sharp sword in the war against drugs."

Casare took a deep breath, "Then I'll just sit here and wait for the soldiers to return in triumph!"

After he spoke, he grabbed a chair and even told the people outside, "Open the door! Let the charging soldiers see that I am sitting right here watching them take Morelia!"

"If I retreat, kill me, if I die, avenge me!"

Indeed, he even showed a hint of heroism.

Manstein's tactics were cunning—by the time the drug traffickers realized, the heavy firepower would not delay by a minute, within half an hour, they drove into the city proceeding orderly towards three strategic goals.

"Military camp," "TV station," "City Hall."

Modern urban warfare is genuinely difficult and increasingly brutal; high-rise buildings and crisscrossing roads are all danger points. Armor vehicles ambush and dash; who can catch you?

When Victor fought urban warfare in the Northern regions, it was practically done with reconstruction in mind—bombarding fiercely, and now many areas are quite "ruralized."

That's also one of the reasons why development in the Northern regions has been slow.

Yet, Manstein's surprise attack was too crafty, with drug traffickers still fast asleep. By the time they grabbed their weapons and ran downstairs, the tanks had already pushed to within 500 meters of the military camp, clashing fiercely with the traffickers stationed there!

Effectively blocking their doorstep!

The M1A1 main battle tank charged forward against the traffickers' firepower.

Driving it was like playing "Grand Theft Auto," not caring about collisions, just crashing through!

The 20-centimeter-thick walls shattered upon impact.

Puff! Puff! Puff…

The 120mm caliber smoothbore gun fired three times in rapid succession, blasting drug traffickers holed up on the second floor of the camp flying out.

"Ah!! Ah!!!" a drug trafficker with dyed yellow hair looked at his leg in horror, the lower half gone, and could see the veins twitching inside, screaming pitifully.

Bang!

A bullet hole burst in his forehead.

A Caucasian man shot him dead without expression, pulling his radio and calling in pure English, "John, take out that tank!"

Sizzling~

"Understood!"

On the side of another camp, in a high building, two Yanks lay prone, one of them aiming at the tank's machine gunner with an M82A1 sniper rifle through night vision. One shot, and the Northern Army soldier's head exploded!

Meanwhile, another man next to him quickly assembled a rocket launcher, found a position, shouldering a Javelin anti-tank missile, aimed at the M1A1 main battle tank below, "Goodbye!"

Whoosh~~

The missile's tail lights shone brightly in the night.

"Rocket!!!"

Beng!!!!

The hit at the right angle link wasn't enough to completely destroy it; surprisingly, it didn't explode!

"F***! It's equipped with decay uranium armor!!!" John, the Yank wielding the Javelin anti-tank missile, looked startled, shouting loudly into his radio.

Maybe it sounded complicated, to put it simply, its resistance to fin-stabilized discarding sabot rounds is equivalent to 600 millimeters of homogeneous armor. Radiation hazard.

During the Gulf War, the Yanks managed to overturn Saddam's Soviet tanks with it, with a total of 9 M1A1 tanks damaged beyond use during the entire Gulf War. Only those fitted with this armor were repaired and returned to the battlefield!

And the people inside didn't die; its protection was formidable.

These folks knew decay uranium armor, a sign they were not just any run-of-the-mill people.

The struck M1A1, like a person feeling aggrieved, backed off while the Northern Army infantry hiding behind raised their weapons and fired, while from a TPz-1 armored vehicle behind, an MCT turret fired a Milan anti-tank missile at the rooftop.

Anti-tank, didn't say it can't hit snipers, right?

In modern warfare, dealing with snipers involves fire coverage. The Northern Alliance is researching small drones that can easily detect people in the sky; they could fly right up to snipers or buildings and cause significant damage.

Bang!!

The wall at the edge of the rooftop was blown apart, the American Caucasian, John, lost his footing and fell down, screaming in panic, falling to the ground, his fate unknown.

And the sniper was even unluckier, as the debris shot into his eyeball, jumbling his brain's nerves, the Barrett twisted.