Goebbels watched as they boarded the U.S. Military's "Hercules," its lights flickering as it soared into the sky!
The heavy rain poured down, the droplets slipping off clothes and falling to the ground, splashing reflections in which one could vaguely see the Minister of Propaganda's serpentine gaze.
The secretary beside him hurriedly held an umbrella over his head, thoughtfully handing him a prepared tissue, "Sir, shall we return to the Official Residence?"
"How could I possibly sleep?" Goebbels took a deep breath, "The north is in complete disarray; those drug traffickers are making a comeback, and the general's safety is not guaranteed out there, my mind is filled with worries."
"I heard that Mr. Casare was so angry when he heard about the general's assassination attempt that he even smashed his favorite expensive watch," the secretary whispered softly on the side.
Goebbels's eyes flashed as he said, "He's worried too, the north can't afford to lose the general, just like the west can't afford to lose Jerusalem."
Actually, who knows what they're really thinking.
Where there are people, there will be competition; it's impossible for things to always be harmonious on the inside, it's just that Victor acts as the bond, constantly controlling this point of contention.
It can lead one astray.
And the general, he's both an obligation and a guide.
The heads of the several factions all have a clear understanding; they dare not stir up too much trouble, as Victor getting angry would indeed result in a slap for each one of them.
Goebbels didn't dare claim his place in the general's heart was bigger than Casare's.
"Let's go! Back to the office." Since an open confrontation was impossible, then he'd wear you down in secret.
The airplane encountered turbulence and jolted; the Staff Officer of the 4th Battalion and Company Commander of the 2nd Company, Erich Manstein, clutched the overhead handrail tightly, his lips turning somewhat pale.
"Are you afraid of heights?" Rommel asked, frowning.
"A little... When I was a child in the countryside, I saw a flight show where a trainer aircraft fell from the sky, and it left a bit of a shadow on me," Erich Manstein admitted frankly.
That was also why he decided not to be a pilot and switched to the army.
Rommel took out Wrigley's spearmint gum (introduced in 1914) from his upper pocket and handed it to him, motioning him to place it under his tongue.
"I've heard that our battalion might turn into an airborne unit?" Manstein asked, holding back the feeling of nausea.
"It's possible," said the adjutant, Fedor von Bock.
"I've done my research. There are more than 200,000 Iraqis facing off against the Allies on the Kuwait frontline, and they're still increasing their numbers. They're very empty on the inside. If we have 200 Hercules, we could completely airdrop more than 3,000 soldiers into Abdullah Bay, seize control of the roads that Iraq uses to transport to Kuwait, and strike at local military targets. If we could airdrop 10,000 people, I think we could skirt around the border, thrust straight into Iraq's western Karbala Province, and then race into Babylon!"
"The war will either escalate... or end in our hands!"
Listening to his bold combat idea, Rommel and Fedor von Bock exchanged glances, their eyelids twitching.
"What if they have ground-based air defenses? Wouldn't that be like a floating garden?" the battalion deputy commander hesitantly asked.
"Then we use our aerial superiority to directly bomb all the ground-based air defenses, clearing the obstacles for the ground troops and airborne units!"
The essence of Blitzkrieg actually still relies on overpowering with absolute strength.
The core elements are speed, surprise, and concentration. In military operations, these three elements are both strategy and tactics.
Rommel frowned and thought carefully. According to Erich Manstein's battle plan, if the front line had U.S. Military engaged in a standoff, then the "surprise attack on Babylon" had a very high possibility of success. But if they got blocked from behind, then a bloody battle lay ahead.
Then again, isn't war always a gamble?
Who can claim certain victory?
"So what do you think our 1000-plus people can do?" asked Rommel, the battalion commander who felt a heavy burden. He had been promoted too quickly and was already a colonel.
If he didn't win a splendid victory, how could he live up to the general?
Yet many were envious of his rapid rise.
Manstein gave him a glance, "Commander, if we don't make mistakes, that's the greatest achievement."
Isn't sweeping up the U.S. Military's tail behind them good enough…
But Rommel was clearly not satisfied with the answer, twisting his brow, quietly chewing the gum.
Many soldiers in the cabin were wide awake, noticeably anxious.
In the cockpit of the C-130 "Hercules" transport plane.
The two American pilots were savoring their coffee.
"What do you think those Mexicans in the back are thinking?" the pilot suddenly asked.
"Maybe looking around in curiosity, wondering why the transport plane has such a large space. That's a lot of avocados to sell," said the co-pilot.
Their derisive joke evoked laughter from the pilot.
The arrogance of Americans is innate.
"Are you saying the CIA has already helped me lock onto the perpetrator? It's the Colombian guerrillas?"
Austria, Vienna, Castle Hotel.
Victor looked at the American representative Asmir Ward in front of him and nearly laughed out loud.
The CIA catching my assailant?
One hand squeezes my own eggs and then holds a gun to my urethra?
Asmir Ward noticed Victor's almost humorous expression and felt a bit embarrassed.
He was actually in the know, as he was stationed at the United Nations and was aware of many things; a lot of intelligence passed through his hands.
Weathering the embarrassment, Asmir Ward nodded vigorously, "Yes, that's correct, this is the testimony of the shooter who attempted to shoot you. He's affiliated with the Colombian Armed Forces, and they were also involved in the bombing of your plane that was supposed to take you home last time. Rest assured, the United States will help you get justice."