As he walked out, he lowered his voice and asked his chief of staff, "What's the deal with that kid?"
The chief of staff shook his head. "Not quite sure, but seeing how soft his skin is, he hasn't been on a battlefield. To come in as a lieutenant, there's got to be something fishy going on. I don't buy it."
Barry Thomas pondered and found it somewhat reasonable. "Keep an eye on him later. If something goes wrong, it won't be easy to explain."
The chief of staff acknowledged.
Barry Thomas immediately rallied the troops. Although there were complaints, he commanded great respect in the 12th Cavalry Regiment, and no one contradicted him; they were all his men. Otherwise, given the heavy casualties, they would have fled long ago.
Taking his men, he launched a surprise attack on the Spanish Foreign Legion a kilometer away!
"Brothers, charge with me. Kill the Spaniards, long live Mexico!"
Lieutenant Felik was also getting fired up and charged forward, behaving like a hot-headed youth, which terrified the chief of staff who quickly grabbed him.
Of course, they didn't recognize this person—it was Casare's brother.
He had volunteered to join the front lines.
"Watch out for snipers, follow me!" The man patted Felik's shoulder, bent down, picked up his rifle, and charged out.
Felik was taken aback but obediently followed without boasting about his prowess.
He always understood...
Professional matters need professional people.
His older brother had said this many times: learn from someone more skilled than you, for pride will only cost you your life.
This sudden attack—who would have thought that the comrades next door would suddenly turn their backs, just like a wife sharing your bed suddenly stabbing you.
The training of the Foreign Legion was formidable, and their combat strength was definitely stronger than the 12th Cavalry Regiment. Still, such dishonorable actions were of no use; by the time they realized, the bullets had already started flying.
The sound of gunfire and fighting was so bleak amid the rain.
The Foreign Legion immediately crumbled!
Those who ran fast were swift on their feet; those who ran slow, wearing only their undershorts, were dragged out. These "spirited Spaniards" knelt on the grimy ground, hugging their heads, and watched in fear.
They hadn't learned how to fight, but they had picked up how to surrender.
"I am Mexican, I am Mexican!" a surrendering soldier shouted.
Holding a gun, Barry Thomas was also dragging a corpse—it was Commander Oermo Cavaleiro, riddled with no less than 40 bullet holes, turned into a sieve.
You could tell there was strong resentment toward him.
Hearing this, he instantly kicked the man into the sewage and turned to look at Felik.
The lieutenant squeezed behind the chief of staff.
Barry Thomas immediately understood—he didn't want to come forward. He then promptly pulled out his gun, fired five shots at the soldier, and spat, "Pah! A Mexican joining the Spanish army, that's a traitor!"
"Brothers, we can't follow Spain, who colonized us for hundreds of years, to bully our compatriots. Look at Mexico City, full of addicts. Who sits at the top? They have never considered Mexico."
"I've decided to surrender to the First Republic; Governor Victor can lead Mexico from victory to victory!"
"We want to live like men, not as drug traffickers' lapdogs!"
The soldiers below exchanged looks and then raised their hands, cheering.
When the news of the 12th Cavalry Regiment "annihilating" the Spanish Foreign Legion reached the 3rd Division Headquarters.
Rommel stood in front of the map and laughed.
He was smoking and intently gazing at Tamaulipas State and San Luis Potosi State. It was like a sweeping victory!
The east was entirely open. The main force of the Popovich Government was to the northwest, planning to reclaim lost territories. But if you leave your rear undefended, then don't blame me.
The pimp who doesn't pay is coming!
The Emperor would proclaim to the world from the Holy City, Mexico!