Working as a police officer in Mexico
Chapter 876 - 466: False Condolences VS Rocket Launcher Condolences!

"Squeak squeak squeak~"

On a mountain road in New Mexico, USA, the chirping of unidentified birds echoed through the air.

A squirrel that had been squatting on the ground suddenly lifted its head. Its small, alert eyes scanned the encroaching sounds. With a flick of its tail, it quickly scurried up a tree.

Perching among the branches, it curiously watched the figures moving below.

"Stop!"

The officer leading the group whispered a command, and everyone squatted down on the spot, cautiously observing the surroundings.

They were clearly veterans.

The group, armed with M16 rifles and wearing jungle camouflage with PASGT helmets and windproof goggles, were unmistakably military. Some officers even carried "L-shaped flashlights" on their chests. However, unlike U.S. troops, the patches on their arms read, "Cuban Expeditionary Army."

Well, that explained everything.

They were Old Ka's men!

After Cuba agreed to Victor's request to deploy troops as reinforcements, action was immediate. Using the same model as the Angolan Civil War, hundreds of personnel were dispatched daily.

After all, without reliable transport logistics, too many men moving at once would risk interception by U.S. Navy ships or aircraft—

and then, oh no...

They'd all become sitting ducks.

This advance unit belonged to Cuba's Special Forces and had performed exceptionally during the Angolan Civil War.

After arriving in Mexico, they were reassigned to Rommel's Fourth Army, fully re-equipped. The outdated SKM-series rifles were retired; those were relics of the past.

With their new gear, they were sent to the Chihuahua State border to primarily conduct guerrilla warfare operations.

This specific 70-member Cuban Special Forces unit had received orders to destroy a "U.S. military outpost and supply station" located near the border.

"Map."

The adjutant quickly reached into his pack for a tube and pulled out the map inside.

Commander Lieutenant Colonel Dias Kamara studied it intently. "We're approximately 7 kilometers from the target."

"It's now 5:45 PM—plenty of time. Rest here for fifteen minutes and replenish your strength."

The adjutant acknowledged the order and crouched low, moving along the line to relay, "Everyone, stand down and rest for fifteen minutes."

Lt. Col. Dias Kamara pulled a soft-tube capsule out of his pocket, tore it open, and squeezed its contents directly into his mouth.

A sour flavor hit his taste buds.

This thing...

It's a rapid-nutrition capsule issued by the Mexican Army—allegedly containing oligopeptides, oligosaccharides, minerals, and other nutrients to help maintain soldiers' physical condition.

He swore...

Dias Kamara had never encountered something like this before.

He half-joked that it might contain drug components. After all, during World War II, Germany, the United Kingdom, France, and Japan were all fond of using such things.

The infamous "marching pills" were loaded with them.

Victor understood all too well that in low-intensity special operations, maintaining soldiers' stamina was critical. These soft-tube capsules cost him nearly 30 million points from the Golden Finger system to procure.

Warfare boils down to logistics and supplies!

Fifteen minutes passed in a flash. With a motion from Dias Kamara, the 70-plus men resumed their march toward the target.

By about 7 PM, they arrived at a secluded area where the U.S. supply station was located.

"Captain, there are so many vehicles below." The adjutant, crouching and holding binoculars, called out to Lt. Col. Dias Kamara.

He froze momentarily, then bent low and jogged over, taking the binoculars from the adjutant's hand.

Through the lens, the supply station's yard came into view—it held no fewer than 30 vehicles of different sizes. The area was brightly lit and bustling. In the center was even a large stage?

And below, in the crowd, many soldiers sat clustered together, whispering to one another with animated expressions and tones.

"Asians? There are Asians too?"

"Why are there so many Asian faces?"

Dias frowned as he turned to the adjutant. "Does the United States have a dedicated Asian unit?"

You might find Black workers on banana plantations, but rarely did you see troops specifically segregated by skin color.

The adjutant shook his head, equally puzzled.

"That does look like a stage, doesn't it? Some sort of entertainment performance?"

Before he could finish speaking, there was a sudden "pop," and fireworks began to light up the supply station, startling the Cuban Special Forces.

The deafening cheers that followed were almost overwhelming!

A surge of dynamic music flooded the air as Dias and his men quickly raised their binoculars to observe—

What they saw left them utterly dumbfounded.

A dozen scantily clad women were performing a heated dance on the stage to the rhythm of the music.

Dias: !!!

Both he and the adjutant were utterly stunned, their mental processors momentarily fried.

This...

They were less than 70 kilometers from the border, right?

Sure, that's a considerable distance, but still, they were at the frontline of a conflict zone! And here they were, engaging in this... openly?

One phrase summed up the scene—

Ah San meets Assib: "What the hell is this?"

The Cuban Special Forces soldiers, mostly young men, were immediately captivated by the thumping music—

bewildered at first, then silently crouched within the grass, eyes wide and fixated on the stage.

"Captain, this..." The adjutant stammered, "I think just by observing them, we already know who they are."

"Koreans!"

"Reportedly, a 600-man South Korean Special Forces unit is undergoing training at the U.S. base. These must be about 200 of them, along with some white and Black personnel."

"Should we take them out?"

"Are they Special Forces members?"

Dias was taken aback by the suggestion.

"I'm not sure about their combat effectiveness. But when I was studying at the Military Academy, our instructors mentioned that if it weren't for the United States stepping in, South Korea might have embraced GC ideology by now. The fact that they're doing entertainment performances so close to the frontlines suggests they're not much of a threat!"

Dias listened to the adjutant's analysis and nodded thoughtfully.

"Attack!"

"How many rocket launchers did we bring?"

"Twenty-seven."

"Bring them all up. Target that stage and blow it to pieces for me."