Isn't this just forming cliques and factions?
Kitchener was no fool; if he wanted to climb the ladder, he needed to gather a group of people to run errands for him.
"That's fine, but not just anyone can be thrown into the mix. I need to test them, and to avoid unnecessary trouble, out of the 20 slots, our Northern Military Academy should take 6, give Erich Ludendorff 5, and the remaining 9 should be selected from other military academies."
The vice-principal also knew the benefits of sharing the spoils, so he readily agreed.
This is just like going for gold plating!
Could an army of tens of thousands really collapse?
The Northern Three Provinces, a must-win!
As Victor's orders were issued, the war machine quickly kicked into gear!
"What, why is there so little corn today?"
The manager of a restaurant asked the vegetable vendor, "I don't owe you money, how is this little bit enough?"
The vendor responded to the accusation with a wry smile, taking a notice from the truck, "The government has requisitioned it. Starting today, vegetables, meats, soy products, and so on are all on the controlled list."
The restaurant manager read the notice and felt a bit of toothache.
"There might be a war coming," the vendor said in a low voice.
The manager was taken aback, just about to speak, when he heard the roar of engines. Both men looked over to see the military camp's gates open across the street, as a dozen soldiers rushed out, imposing a temporary military control over the intersection.
That is, holding guns and standing in the road.
"TMD! Move it, I have to get to work!" A man driving a Mazda honked his horn discontentedly, even gesturing as if he was going to charge through, clearly not in the best of tempers.
Locals, known for their fierce temperament.
The Sergeant blocking his way took notice and racked the bolt of his gun, the crisp sound of a bullet being chambered.
That caused the man to immediately behave.
The man let out a sheepish laugh, lighting a cigarette for himself, constantly bowing and waving his hand, "No worries, no worries, I'm not in a hurry, you guys work hard."
Could he be so brash after only a few good days?
Before Victor took office, the local military and police weren't so polite, carrying guns around, and there had even been incidents of eating without paying and killing vendors.
A heavy truck drove out from within, its rear loaded with armored vehicles not covered with canvas, blatantly displayed for everyone to see.
"TPz-1 armored vehicle!" shouted a young boy from the back of a Mercedes-Benz, sticking his head out.
After the heavy truck passed, a second one came out, this time carrying howitzers.
The restaurant manager's expression froze as he saw the weapon; his eyes darted around, confused—how did the Northern Army get weapons produced by South Africa?
These were manufactured by DENEL Company, developed starting in 1976, commissioned into service in 1981, compatible with NATO 155mm ammunition, towed by a motor vehicle, capable of 60 km/h, with a range of 30 km, and if using extended range projectiles, it could reach 39 km.
"Cough cough, alright, I'll take all these vegetables, just deliver them inside, I've got something to handle," the manager told the vendor, then called over an employee loudly to take care of the delivery.
He himself thudded up to his office.
Looking around outside before shutting the door and locking it, he jogged to his desk and pulled out a drawer with a phone number written on the back.
He dialed the number, and after just two rings, the person on the other end picked up.
"Is El Mencho there?"
"You can tell me whatever you need to say," the person on the other end spoke calmly.
"The Northern Army is making a move! The Fourth Regiment stationed in Ensenada has been deployed, with heavy weapons and long-range artillery. Something doesn't feel right, be careful," he said.
The person on the other line tensed up, "Alright! I got it, I'll contact you if there's any news."
The restaurant manager sat in his chair, frowning.
"No, I need to ask around, what exactly is going on."