Working as a police officer in Mexico
Chapter 915 - 481: Comparing Backgrounds with Me, What Are You!!

Coahuila State. Monclova.

The Fourth Army's 337th Regiment settled here for rest after returning from Texas.

Although the main battlefield was around San Diego, they still performed exceptionally well in the border conflicts. Particularly noteworthy was Felix's battalion, which held the canyon against relentless artillery bombardment from a full U.S. Military regiment, killing over 300 enemies with a staggering casualty rate of 35% among their own ranks!

Several times the high ground was on the verge of falling, yet time and again, Felix Gonzalez led countercharges, miraculously coming out unharmed— not even so much as a scratch.

By the time reinforcements arrived, the U.S. Military could no longer dream of taking the high ground. This became one of the rare bright spots in the "Texas Battle."

Of course, it's also possible that the Texans…

didn't want to fight for the United States?

After the war, the Fourth Army's headquarters awarded him a First-class Merit for wartime contributions and applied to the central command for a Knight Medal.

"Commander! Commander!"

As he was packing his belongings, his deputy rushed inside, face alight with excitement and holding a newspaper. "We made the paper! Look, the latest issue of the 'Military Newspaper of Mexico' featured us and says our battalion is the hero battalion of the Fourth Army."

Felix looked steadier than before, his youthful exuberance long gone, replaced by a piercing gaze full of tenacity.

He took the newspaper, gave it a perfunctory glance, then handed it back.

"Commander, aren't you happy?"

"It's nothing but empty fame. What's there to be happy about? Too many of our brothers didn't make it back. The ones who lived only got to behold the honor on behalf of those who didn't—and that's all it is."

The deputy's enthusiasm waned with such words, his grin slowly fading. Watching Felix pack his bag, he noticed him stuffing cans of food, military rations, and even a small stuffed monkey doll. "Commander, are you…"

"Thierry's family lives in a village near Monclova. I'm going to visit them."

The deputy froze upon hearing the name.

Thierry Sanchez—the youngest soldier in their battalion, not yet seventeen. A small, slight figure who originally wasn't eligible to enlist but lied about his age when the conscription team visited his village.

He was diminutive, barely over 160 centimeters, with a perpetual smile, uncommonly diligent and warm-hearted. Felix found him endearing and bold despite his size, and given their close age gap, he assigned Thierry as his guard.

During the "Texas Battle"…

Thierry died shielding Felix, riddled by machine-gun fire, leaving no chance for final words.

In the letter he left behind, he had written:

"I hope my little brother grows up quickly and gets to go to school. When life gets better, no one will have to worry about drug traffickers bullying us anymore. He told me he wants a doll—hehehe—next time I go back, I'll be sure to bring him the best one."

"I'm not here, so you're in charge of the whole battalion. Don't let anything go wrong."

The deputy nodded. "Understood."

Seeing Felix strap on his backpack, he quickly said, "You should take a couple of people with you. It's good to have others around if anything happens. The town's not entirely peaceful…"

Felix furrowed his brow and nodded slightly.

In wartime, places near the front line like Durango were often hotspots for incidents like looting, even though the National Palace enforced crackdowns. Still, local hooligans and scoundrels had a way of resurfacing.

This bunch had no qualms about wreaking havoc, capable of anything.

The deputy called over four warriors to accompany Felix, and as they left, he handed a pistol to the last lieutenant and tucked it into his pocket.

"Is this necessary, Deputy Commander?"

"The commander is crucial. Don't let anything go wrong."

The deputy, a shrewd man, had pieced together from subtle clues that Felix's identity was anything but ordinary, even if he hadn't explicitly said so.

Seeing the deputy's grave expression, the lieutenant nodded solemnly.

They boarded the Humvee, heading toward a place outside Monclova called "Tashen Kuergan Village."

Mexico's transportation network was notoriously underdeveloped. Most relied on buses, and back in the era of Old Mexico, it wasn't uncommon to encounter roadside gang robberies.

Things have improved now…

At least they're more discreet about it.

On the muddy mountain roads, they even passed signposts warning, "Robbery of military or government vehicles is illegal!"

After nearly two grueling hours of jostling…

They finally reached "Tashen Kuergan Village." When Felix got out of the vehicle, his legs felt wobbly…

He nearly threw up.

The road was far too treacherous!

"Where are you folks from?"

An elderly man wearing a short-sleeve shirt and carrying a hoe stood at the village entrance, a homemade cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Sir, may I ask if you know where Thierry's family lives?"

Felix retrieved a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and held one out as he asked.

"Thierry? Are you his comrades?" The elderly man took the cigarette and eyed Felix inquisitively.

"Yes, we've come to visit his family."

"Has something happened to Thierry?" The man suddenly blurted out. Seeing Felix's face tighten, he sighed heavily, "His mother is working in the field. I'll take you there."

"Thank you."

Felix signaled at his men to carry the bag, following the old man toward the surrounding fields. The closer they got, the faster Felix's heart pounded.

It felt almost like cowardice…

He licked his lips, pondering how to break the news.

This was his first time, as a commanding officer, visiting a fallen comrade's family.

"Tatiana!"

The old man shouted loudly from the edge of the field. Felix squinted into the distance and saw three figures—two adults, one child—stooping over their work. Hearing the voice, they turned around in unison.

Spotting the visitors on the field edge, they approached with puzzled expressions.

"There's only one man left in their family. Thierry's father used to work odd jobs in the city but was struck by a car and killed, with just 300 pesos in compensation," the old man explained, gesturing with his fingers and shaking his head wryly.

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