He followed the soldier and dashed forward, only to see many people gathered around. Rommel's foot slipped, and he almost fell into a pit, but his adjutant quickly grabbed him.
The pit was about 200 square meters and more than a meter deep, completely wrapped in clear tape, allowing a clear view of the people inside with expressions of terror.
A putrid smell made everyone's cerebral cortex numb.
The adjutant also swallowed hard, feeling a bit... nauseous!
"It must have been drug traffickers who dumped the people here."
"Mark the location, and after the war, have someone come to dig it up, the company continues to move forward," Rommel gave the most accurate order.
They had abandoned their armored vehicles and were on foot, with no time to dawdle here.
The adjutant used a piece of wood to make a mark, circled the spot on the map, and then the unit continued on their way.
They had to cross the mountain range within 9 hours!
They went straight to the rear of Sinaloa City.
Just emerging from the mountains, everyone was weary and dusty, Rommel was thinking about lying on the ground to sleep for a while.
Then they encountered a situation, a scout ran over, clearly out of breath from hurrying.
"Platoon leader, there's a convoy ahead, more than 30 vehicles, but only about 30 armed personnel!"
"What kind of vehicles?" Rommel quickly asked.
"There are quite a few Mercedes-Benz, and also a bull..." The scout gestured, "About that size of a car emblem."
"Are you talking about a Lamborghini?" the adjutant asked, frowning.
The scout shook his head, not quite understanding.
"It must be, commander. These must be people fleeing south, with armed guards, definitely drug trafficker's family members. Ordinary people can't afford luxury cars," the adjutant said.
"What if it's a mistake?"
The adjutant hesitated, but quickly waved his hand, "It can't be wrong. In Mexico, all the rich have run to the United States. Those who haven't fled are either drug traffickers or corrupt officials, it's absolutely right, and... "
"Even if it's wrong, who would know?"
"But if it's right, we've really made a merit."
This adjutant was bound for a military tribunal sooner or later.
Rommel looked at him, "Fedor, your reasoning is sound, ambush along both sides of the road!"
Fedor von Bock was pleased his suggestion was accepted and saluted excitedly.
"Let the banner of Victor strike fear into them!"
"May the Governor bless us, Amen!"
Fedor von Bock motivated for the war, patting the soldiers' shoulders to calm them down.
Aside from one platoon, the remaining three platoons, totaling 112 soldiers, were ambushed in the woods on both sides.
A Private First Class holding an M16 crouched in the bushes suddenly felt something squirming beneath him, as if something had burrowed in. He reached in and pulled out a cricket, his eyes lighting up as he crunched it down.
The taste was good, a strong flavor of protein.
"Amos, what are you eating?" his comrade next to him hastily asked.
"A cricket with the flavor of chicken feathers. Do you want one? I'll catch one for you with this," the Private First Class said grinning.
His comrade was shocked, then quickly caught on and cursed.
"Shut up!" The section leader behind them scolded softly, and they both fell silent.
Amos licked his lips again.
He seemed to savor the taste.
Almost made his comrade sick.
"Boss, they're coming!" said Fedor von Bock, lying next to Rommel.
The latter, looking through binoculars at the convoy, saw 7 Mercedes-Benz, 3 Ferraris, 3 Cadillacs, and 2 vans, followed by troop carriers.
The Mexican prince on parade?
Victor didn't even have a son.
Rommel watched as the vehicles entered the kill zone, pulled his bolt-action rifle, squatted down, and aimed at the driver's seat of a Ferrari.
He squeezed the trigger!
As if on command, the soldiers lying in ambush opened fire!
Letting this group of "suspected drug traffickers" taste what it's like to be riddled with bullets.