Working as a police officer in Mexico
Chapter 859 - 460: The following statement!_3

"But San Diego has organized effective armed resistance and started counterattacks, taking advantage of the terrain to fight us."

Rommel contemplated for a moment, "Let them fight close-quarters. Make the battlefield as chaotic as possible, intertwining soldiers from both sides."

"We must force the Yanks to refrain from deploying weapons of mass destruction against our troops."

"Understood!"

Vasili responded and hurried off to deliver orders.

Rommel felt his hands trembling...

It wasn't fear.

It was a kind of thrill.

"Install more loudspeakers along the border, rally the San Diego civilians to our side. The U.S. Government doesn't deserve their support."

"How many loudspeakers should we deploy?" asked a nearby staff member.

"Start with 1,000!"

...

Meanwhile, at the Pentagon.

Robert Gates, who succeeded Rumsfeld, was smoking in his office.

Even his hands were shaking.

This was anger.

He muttered incessantly, "Mexicans are so disrespectful, Mexicans lack integrity."

"Can someone tell me who authorized the 136th Infantry Regiment to fire at the border? What kind of lawlessness is this? Dismiss their regiment commander immediately!"

He roared in fury.

Of course, he was livid. The plans initially scheduled for February 2nd had been disrupted due to this incident. Many weapons and equipment had yet to be transported to the frontlines.

The operation plans weren't even finalized.

Everything was a chaotic mess.

It's said that the situation in San Diego is now extremely tense, a complete headache.

Upon hearing his orders, the Joint Command Office commanders—navy, army, air force—all exchanged glances but none stood up.

Robert?

His authority wasn't enough!

He couldn't command these brass hats.

"The Brigadier General of the 136th Infantry Regiment is a member of the Red Shoes Club..."

A faint voice in the office pierced through, silencing Robert Gates instantly.

In the U.S. Elite Class, there isn't just one organization. He's part of Bohemian, but also Red Shoes Club. He's even visited "Saint James Island" several times.

So...

The "rapist" Victor always mentioned? He's one of them too!

Have them arrest him?

Impossible.

A nation run by rapists reeks of corruption everywhere—from top to bottom.

Robert Gates kept quiet.

After a long pause, the Army Commander Bernhard Hawkins finally broke the silence, "What we should focus on now is protecting San Diego."

"Order the Marine 1st Division to immediately assemble at the San Diego border to block the advance of Mexico's Fourth Army. Concurrently, dispatch our armed forces already prepared at the borders of New Mexico, Texas, Arizona, and California to move south."

"Our main target is capturing Juarez. As long as we secure this location, we'll have a steady flow of equipment and supplies reaching us, ensuring a firm foothold."

He frowned as he spoke, "Which Mexican unit is stationed in Juarez?"

Robert Gates shook his head in confusion.

The Army Commander Bernhard Hawkins took a deep breath and gave Robert a look filled with undisguised contempt.

"With your kind of ability, you're seriously taking over as Defense Minister?"

"Do you even deserve it?"

That gaze ignited a burning rage in Robert. The blatant disregard pierced through his defenses, leaving his face somber and tense enough to drip water.

"The Fourth Army's Cavalry Corps and the Fifth Army's two divisions, totaling around 36,000 troops, are positioned along the defensive line in Chihuahua State," said Joint Chiefs Chairman Brownvis, his voice heavy.

"Instruct Kotlan Air Force Base to launch bombings against them. Ground forces from the 103rd Infantry Division will transfer from Ohio to New Mexico, aiming to capture Juarez within three days," said Bernhard Hawkins, brimming with confidence.

He directly disregarded both the Joint Chiefs Chairman and Defense Minister Robert Gates...

After all, in war, these two should have held the most authority.

But...

Internal power struggles plague the U.S. Military.

"I'm heading to the front line."

Suddenly, Robert Gates stood up and declared.

All eyes immediately turned to him—doubtful, startled, strange. A mixture of looks infuriated him.

"Sir, the front line isn't suited for you. It's best if you stay in the office and handle matters here."

Bernhard Hawkins barely stopped short of saying, "Stay put and don't cause trouble."

Yet...

Robert Gates was all the more determined to prove himself. He scowled, "What I decide doesn't need further discussion."

"Also, deploy South Korea's Special Forces to the Juarez frontline."

Just as Bernhard Hawkins was about to speak, he saw Robert shoot him a glare. "That's an order!"

"May God bless you!"

Bernhard gritted his teeth as he spoke. Yet it felt more like...a curse?

The military meeting ended on a sour note. Outside, Bernhard Hawkins vented his frustrations to a colleague.

"A guy who hasn't even graduated from Military Academy is bound to screw things up. Let's hope he doesn't die at the front."

His colleague was so alarmed, they almost covered Bernhard's mouth.

"Can you even say such things?!"

Robert Gates sat in his office, furrowing his brows. In the end, he picked up the phone and called two of Bohemian's triad leaders, reporting today's events, embellishing heavily.

"Sir, it's very difficult for me to get things done. They lack the respect I deserve."

Nixon was practically dying—the weakness in his tone said it all. "You need to show adequate courage. Going to the front line is a good choice. As long as Juarez is captured, ground forces can advance unhindered, which will solidify your position."

Robert Gates was starting to feel some regret—Damn it, just wanted to pull a stunt. Who knew he'd overplay his hand?

At the front line, people actually die in battle. If he dies, then everything ends.

"Brigadier General Andrea Nick of the 103rd Infantry Division is a capable fighter. Don't over-command the frontline—leave it to him."

Robert understood Nixon's advice: go to the front line for some glory; stop fancifully micromanaging like moving machine guns three meters to the right—it's not his expertise.

"I understand."

"Cough, cough, cough..."

Nixon coughed heavily. "Everything for the bigger picture—eliminating the Victor regime is paramount."

"You wouldn't want a patch of psoriasis...cough, cough, cough...on the fertile land of North America...cough, cough."

"Sir, are you okay?"

Nixon's breathing echoed faintly, his exhaustion evident.

"I'm...fine. Focus on the bigger picture!" After a few final instructions, he hung up.

Robert Gates clenched his fists, pounding the table furiously, his complexion ashen.

The bigger picture?!

But who's taking my dignity into account in front of those arrogant, ruthless commanders?

Damn it!

They're all...son-of-a-b*tches!

His face...

Twisted with rage!

To hell with your so-called bigger picture!

...

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