February 7, 1990, on the beach of Guadalupe Island.
Night!
Gunfire was everywhere, accompanied by screams.
"Move closer! Bring the boat up along the beach!" Benjamin, holding a telescope, saw the assault boats impeded by a barrage of machine gun fire and, quite irritated, shouted his orders.
A Ro-Ro... storming the beach?
What a micromanagement expert!
The last one to die in such a way was the "Anti-Japanese Hero," "Brutal Mutaguchi!"
The 800-plus ton Ro-Ro vessel thundered forward, commanded toward the northwest section of the beach. Oddly enough, the bullets seemed to have eyes of their own, simply whizzing above the ship.
The hull remained unscathed?
This must surely be good fortune smiling upon them!
Thud~!
With a heavy impact, the Ro-Ro vessel lurched, making everyone on board stagger and stumble. Benjamin, gripping the railing, was excited, "Disembark, get off quickly, fellows, we have already won half the battle!"
He clearly was not a student of world military history.
Otherwise, he would have understood that the most dangerous place in a landing operation lies... on the beach!
More than 300 drug traffickers, armed with M16s, rushed out of the cabin under the lead of their boss.
"Spread out! Spread out! Watch out for the machine guns!" The boss did have some tactical sense, "Bend down as you move forward."
He hadn't even finished speaking when there was a boom!
The boss, nearly 200 pounds heavy, was directly blasted into the sky, and when he fell back down, his body had been split in two.
"Landmines! There are landmines!"
In a panic, many drug traffickers started running around, and one explosion after another resulted in the 60 buried M14 landmines setting off a series of blasts.
Boom boom boom boom...
The entire beach was overturned anew.
Those lucky enough were merely legless, lying on the ground and howling.
Benjamin's eyes bulged, his whole body feeling cold as ice.
Sounds of whooshing passed above his head, and looking up, he saw rows of rockets, trailing their tails, coming in at a flat trajectory!
There appeared to be more than 150 of them...
"¡Mierda! (Damn it!)" Benjamin muttered under his breath.
The whole Ro-Ro and the surrounding hundreds of meters were instantly engulfed by the rockets.
Kennedy Heisenberg covered his ears, looking at the distant inferno and speaking into a walkie-talkie, "Reload! Fire another round!"
With the Katyusha, all you needed to do was prop up its wheels with logs to fire horizontally.
In the Battle of Berlin in 1945, the Soviet Army lowered the angle of Katyusha rockets, opting for a flat trajectory that instantly overpowered the German defenses and checkpoints, turning them all into nothing more than decorations—useless!
Hundreds were instantly turned into souls departed.
The officers, hearing the command, hurriedly loaded the rockets, and with Kennedy's gesture, another 160 rockets were launched toward the fiery beach.
Who the hell can afford such luxury!
Even Pablo, who boasts a force of 40,000 men, isn't that lavish, right?
But between Vic and Pablo, who is more formidable?
The latter's power is at its zenith now, an opportunity for a showdown.
Victor's tactic was simple, "Let them in and hit them!" Once the drug traffickers disembarked and set foot on the coast, escaping would not be easy. Under this barrage of fire, who could survive?
And on the Pacific Ocean,
The "Duke Victor" was cutting its way in and out amongst the remaining Ro-Ro vessels!
With two 7.62mm caliber machine guns at the bow and stern, helmeted officers were spraying the Ro-Ro vessels with fire, and casings clattered from the ejection ports, quickly piling into a small mound.
"Radar search, lock on!"
"Do you think I care?"
"Worry about public opinion when killing drug traffickers? If anyone has a problem, they can come find me on Guadalupe Island. If any human rights activists are standing and making statements, then ask them to kneel down!"
"Here, my word is law!"
Casare swallowed hard, sensibly nodding his head.
He relayed Victor's orders.
Kennedy stood in front of the captives with EDM officers, eyeing the differently dressed mercenaries and waving to his men behind him.
The officers rushed forward and dragged the mercenaries out.
"What are you doing? What are you doing? Let go of me, I demand you follow the Geneva Conventions; I am a prisoner of war."
But no one paid him any mind.
The Geneva Conventions?
On Guadalupe Island, "Victor's Quotes" were followed!
Seeing the tantrums do no good, a mercenary howled, "These police are going to kill us, they're demons!"
Suddenly, many captives panicked, and the noise and clamor erupted.
"Demons?"
"We believe in Victor!"
Kennedy pulled back the bolt of his submachine gun and swept across the drug traffickers who had stood up. He kicked the nearest captive to the ground and pressed his boot firmly on the man's chest.
"Director's orders, for those causing trouble, kill half first!" an officer shouted from a distance.
Kennedy, known internally as "Loyal Dog", was said to be extraordinarily devoted to the Director among EDM officers.
Whatever the Director said was done to the letter.
Kennedy nodded to the messenger, "Sorry, you've angered the sir." He lifted his hand and motioned to the crowd, "Left side lives, right side dies!"
EDM officers raised their guns and opened fire!
The helpless drug traffickers at last understood how the innocent civilians they once faced must have felt in their final pleas.
"I don't want to die! I don't want to die!"
"My mother is still waiting for me to come home!"
The captives cried and ran.
Kennedy and the others didn't bother to chase; a road roller followed behind and pursued the traffickers. Without panic, they waited until the traffickers reached the seashore and howled helplessly at the ocean. Then the road roller simply rolled over them.
Anyone with a brain knows how heavy a road roller is.
The sound of bones breaking accompanied the screams.
Had a reporter captured this scene, it would have gone viral—only now there was no internet to spread it.
But did Uncle Victor care?
Death to drug traffickers!
The captives who were chosen to live on the left side collapsed on the ground, lifeless. That's how people are; as long as they themselves survive, why struggle over someone else's death?
After everyone on the other side was killed.
Kennedy looked at the survivors on the left, "Gentlemen, now it's your turn to be active."
"Take them to clear the mines! Those who survive might have a chance to leave Guadalupe Island!"
Clearing mines!
The captives' eyes were filled with despair, but upon hearing the latter part of the sentence, they regained a glimmer of hope, each person believing they were the chosen one.
They wouldn't be so unlucky.
Kennedy watched the group.
I said you could leave Guadalupe Island.
But I never mentioned providing a boat.
Swim back on your own!
...