Working as a police officer in Mexico.

Chapter 731 Money, Money, Money! It's all money's fault!

In a spacious office in Springfield, the capital of the Republic of Illinois.

Bramo had a half-burnt cigarette dangling from his mouth, and his eyes looked tired.

He didn't smoke...

But the pressure is really immense.

Everyone says being an emperor is good, but who knows how much pressure the emperor is under? The moment he opens his eyes, he's afraid someone will shoot him.

Bramo sat in his chair watching television. On the screen was footage of George W. Bush being interviewed by reporters on the steps of the Capitol Building after delivering his speech on Capitol Hill.

"My mission, as my father and countless predecessors pursued, is to rebuild the glory and unity of America! This is not only my duty, but also the historical responsibility bestowed upon us by this era!"

Speaking to the camera, George W. Bush's voice carried far through the microphone, "The return of Arkansas, Mississippi, and South Dakota proves the vitality of the Union and that the desire for unity in the hearts of most Americans has not been extinguished! I hope that those states still wandering astray will see the truth, recognize their true interests, and return to the embrace of the United States of America. This is not a threat, this is a call, for our shared future!"

He said, opening his arms to the camera, "Come on, brothers, we should be together."

"Snapped!"

Bramo grabbed the remote control on the table and slammed down the power button. The screen went black instantly, revealing his gloomy and distorted face. He spat heavily, exhaled the cigarette butt into the carpet, and stomped it out, as if he were crushing the boastful president on the screen.

"Fuck him!"

Bramo cursed under his breath, "Rebuild glory? Turn back from the wrong path? It's all talk and no action! That little brat, just like his father, all talk and no action, all scheming and plotting!"

He abruptly stood up from his chair and paced restlessly around the office, feeling an unprecedented sense of urgency and unease.

Yes, it feels awkward!
Watching George W. Bush pontificate as America's savior, calling on "lost sheep" to return, while he himself had become the "corrector" of the other's divisive figures, this role reversal made him feel extremely uncomfortable, as if he were wearing an ill-fitting bodysuit.

He stopped and turned his gaze to another person who had been sitting quietly on the sofa in the office—Ludwig Baker!
"General Baker!"

Bramo's voice was filled with barely suppressed anxiety. "You saw it? You heard it? Bush isn't just testing us, he's fucking made his move! He's throwing money at us, shouting slogans, using both soft and hard tactics! Those spineless cowards in Arkansas have just given in. If we don't take any action and just watch him pull the divided states back together one by one, it won't be long before we're surrounded by enemies, besieged on all sides by the reunited federal forces. At that point, will we even have a chance to survive?!"

His eyes were fixed on Baker.

Ludwig Baker slowly raised his head, adjusted his posture slightly, and replied, "Bramo, I understand your feelings. Bush Jr.'s actions were indeed faster and more decisive than expected. However, please remain calm."

"From what I've received so far, there are no new clear instructions from Mexico on this matter. However, please rest assured that Mexico and Leader Victor will not abandon our partners in Illinois. Our support for you is unwavering."

"Mexico cannot lose Illinois, just as the United States cannot lose Texas."

? ? ? ?
Bramo immediately looked at him.

Because Texas is currently firmly under Mexican control, and is a province under Victor's command!
Ludwig Beck is just saying it off, sorry, it's just a habit.

He quickly skipped over the details and emphasized directly: "In short, please believe that the pressure we are facing is also the pressure that Leader Viktor is concerned about. The necessary support and response will definitely come. What we need is patience and preparation."

Bramo witnessed Baker's momentary hesitation and embarrassment, which fueled his anger.

Patience? Preparation?

Bramo laughed angrily, pointing at the blacked-out television screen. "Baker, Bush isn't planning to give us much time to prepare patiently! He's wielding money and guns, trying to appease us while simultaneously intimidating us. We have to take action, even if it's just a symbolic counterattack. We have to make a gesture immediately, otherwise, morale will collapse, and Illinois can't, and will never, be the next target to be 'co-opted'!"

His entire family was wiped out. He was waving the banner of opposing tyranny. Everyone else could surrender, but he couldn't.

If he surrenders, he won't have lost half the battle.

Little Bush could just chop you in half.

Ludwig Baker stared at Bramo quietly for a few seconds, a slight softening in his calm expression. He sighed softly, stood up, walked to the liquor cabinet, poured two glasses of whiskey, and handed one to Bramo.

"Bramo, calm down and drink your drink."

Baker's voice softened considerably. "I said, Mexico will not give up Illinois."

He took a sip of his drink and continued, “You’re overly worried about Bush’s so-called ‘unification offensive.’ Yes, he’s bought back a few impoverished, internally conflicted states, which looks impressive, like placing a few pieces back on a chessboard. But what about the chessboard itself? The American war machine is already rusted and its parts are scattered everywhere.”

Bramo took the glass, but didn't drink it; he just stared intently at Baker.

Baker met his gaze, his tone resolute: "Putting everything else aside, the armed forces currently under the control of the Republic of Illinois—the National Guard plus the legions we assisted in reorganizing and training—have roughly the structure of two divisions, totaling about 20,000 men. Moreover, their equipment is entirely the same as the Mexican standard, from rifles to armored vehicles to their logistical support system. They have ample ammunition and high morale. Even if George W. Bush were to launch an attack now, disregarding everything, hoping to devour us in the short term, he'd be in for a world of trouble!"

"As for whether George W. Bush has that much courage..."

Baker shook his head. "I have serious doubts about that. You know what? According to the most reliable intelligence from our Mexican intelligence agency, the U.S. federal army has not been paid on time and in full for almost four months!"

Bramo raised an eyebrow upon hearing this, "Four months?"

Baker nodded firmly. "If you don't pay them, who will fight for you? The army can't be fed with patriotic slogans. What kind of cohesion and fighting power can an army that can't even pay its soldiers have? Morale has long since collapsed! What's even more frightening is that, due to long-term wage arrears and the collapse of central authority, the number of organized violent criminal groups across the United States—let's call them 'bandits' for now—has exploded from over 200 in the past, according to the FBI, to more than 2000 now. Order is crumbling, violence is rampant at the grassroots level, and what about within the military?"

Baker paused, then emphasized, “It was the same situation: a military with many warlords, each acting independently. George W. Bush may have ambition, but he inherited an army that was almost out of control. He did try to reorganize and restore order; just last month, through the Department of Defense, he attempted to make personnel changes in several key strategic commands, hoping to place some generals he considered ‘reliable’ in them.”

"The most important of these is the United States Army Forces Command (FORSCOM), which is responsible for the defense of the core areas of the continental United States and, in theory, has a direct deterrent capability against Illinois."

Baker's voice carried a hint of mockery, "He has his eye on Major General William F. Will Garrison, who was known for his 'strict discipline' during his rotation in Bosnia, and hopes that he can take over as commander and reorganize the troops."

"That person was also one of his close associates."

"And then what happened?" Bramo couldn't help but ask.

"The result?" Baker sneered. "Then-commander, four-star general John M. Jack Keane Jr., rejected the order outright over the phone and had the White House chief of staff relay the message: 'Tell that Texas kid to mind his budget and speeches. Military matters are none of his business. If he doesn't want the Pentagon to be hit by another rocket attack like Capitol Hill, he'd better not mess with FORSCOM again.'"

Ludwig Baker spread his hands, making a helpless expression: "So, you see, Mr. Bramo, it's just that absurd. When power is maintained by rampant growth and a violent balance, the price to pay for restoring order is far beyond a few slogans and a little money. George W. Bush hasn't even fully opened the doors of his own army yet. What does he have to launch a war of annihilation against us? With soldiers who can't even get paid? Or with generals who are no longer under orders?"

Bramo listened quietly, the gloom on his face gradually fading, replaced by a complex expression.

He truly hadn't expected that the seemingly powerful Bush Jr. would be in such a dire situation, riddled with problems and unable to gain any influence beyond the White House.

He tilted his head back and downed the whiskey in one gulp; the spicy liquid invigorated him.

“I never imagined there were so many intricacies involved.” Bramo let out a long sigh. “I was too impatient and was intimidated by how Bush looked on TV.”

He put down his glass. "However, I think I should still call Victor myself."

Baker nodded in agreement. After all, he was the other party's brother-in-law, so it was only natural for him to have a chat with his brother-in-law.

"No need to rush, haste makes waste."

...

Meanwhile, in the Oval Office of the White House.

Outside the window, the twilight of Washington, D.C. was in full swing. President George W. Bush sat behind the famous Resolute Table, his hands clasped under his chin. The confident and spirited demeanor he displayed on Capitol Hill and in front of the television cameras was gone, replaced by deep weariness and an unyielding sorrow.

His newly promoted Secretary of Defense, Admiral Jonathan W. Green, a former Chief of Naval Operations, and his most trusted Chief of Staff, Karl Rove, sat side by side in high-backed armchairs opposite him, both looking dejected.

“That’s the situation, Mr. President.” Secretary of Defense Green’s voice was dry as he held a copy of a newly received cable in his hand. “We attempted to redeploy a portion of the 101st Airborne Division, stationed at Fort Campbell, Kentucky, in a deterrent deployment toward Illinois. The order was given, and the division commander, Major General James C. Smith, replied directly that he requested $1000 million from the government for ‘special operations and disengagement costs,’ otherwise the troops would ‘be unable to maintain basic mobility.’” “$1000 million? US dollars?!”

Chief of Staff Karl Rove exclaimed, his face filled with absurdity and anger, "They're extorting us! Since when did the movement of American troops require 'deployment fees' from the government?!"

George W. Bush simply took a deep breath, as if that could suppress the surging anger and helplessness in his chest.

He looked at Secretary of Defense Green: "Jonathan, tell me, tell me directly, how many generals like Major General Smith are left in our great United States Army? Are there any generals who are still loyal to the United States of America as a whole, and not just to their own defense districts and their own pockets?"

Secretary of Defense Green met Bush's gaze and paused for a moment. He was a naval veteran, and although he was now the Secretary of Defense and responsible for the entire military, he subconsciously harbored both dissatisfaction with the long-standing factionalism within the Army system and the increasingly rampant warlordism, as well as a touch of the Navy's inherent scrutiny.

He nodded. “Mr. President, of course, the majority of generals remain loyal to the Constitution and the country. But we must recognize that long-term arrears in pay and the weakening of central authority have indeed severely eroded the discipline of some army units, compared to…”

He casually shifted the subject, "The Navy and Air Force, due to the nature of their technical branches and the need for global deployment, maintain a higher degree of integrity in their command and logistical support systems, and have a stronger sense of loyalty to the federal government. Also, the National Guard system contains a large number of dedicated units..."

Before he could finish speaking, Karl Rove, standing nearby, had already picked up on the implied meaning. He glanced thoughtfully at Green, quickly processing the situation in his mind: This Secretary of Defense was a former admiral; how many years had the Navy and Army been vying for military funding and status? Even the Marine Corps, often referred to as the "fourth class," was constantly competing with the Army for resources. Green's words inevitably carried a hint of praising the Navy and Air Force while simultaneously putting down the Army, which was currently facing the most problems.

George W. Bush had served in the military, flying F-102s for six years in the Texas National Guard Air Force. He certainly understood the intricacies of the military and the inter-service rivalries. He didn't expose Green's little scheme; now was not the time to play the internal game.

He rubbed his throbbing temples, a wave of exhaustion washing over him. He interrupted Green's potentially ongoing "analysis" and asked a more practical question:
"Money... No matter what, let's pay some of the owed military salaries first, even if it's just for one month, it can stabilize the situation. How much money can the Ministry of Finance squeeze out? There are only a few days left until the next payday. I can't imagine what will happen if the federal army doesn't get paid for the fifth consecutive month."

After these words, the Oval Office fell into a deathly silence.

Defense Secretary Green and Karl Rove both shut their mouths, their expressions growing even more unpleasant.

The Treasury Department is already empty; tax revenue from several wealthy states has either been interrupted or withheld. Printing money? That would only make the already out-of-control inflation even more terrifying.

Payday?

What should we use to send it?

Chief of Staff Karl Rove licked his slightly dry lips. "Mr. President, we are not entirely without hope regarding military pay. Several financial groups with which we have close ties have expressed their willingness to provide a short-term, low-interest bridging loan after your speech to Congress."

George W. Bush abruptly looked up, a glint of light in his eyes. "How much?"

"Approximately $30 billion."

"Including the special treasury bond that our Ministry of Finance just urgently approved, we can barely raise about 45 billion yuan. However, this is still a drop in the bucket when it comes to paying back four or five months of back pay for the entire army and maintaining subsequent expenses. We need at least 150 to 200 billion yuan to stabilize the basic situation and at least keep the army machine running smoothly."

"150 to 200 billion..."

George W. Bush leaned forward, his hands gripping the table, his gaze sweeping over Secretary of Defense Green and Karl Rove: "Borrow! We can only borrow. Europe? Asia? There's always somewhere we can borrow money! The United States of America hasn't fallen yet!"

"Mr. President!" Karl Rove urgently warned, "Our international debt has reached a level that many economists believe could trigger a global financial crisis at any moment! If we borrow on a large scale again, I fear our credit rating will completely collapse, and then..."

"A collapse?!"

George W. Bush suddenly interrupted him, "Karl, how far do you think we are from collapse? One step? Half a step? If we can't even control the army, we could collapse tomorrow! If we borrow money, we can still breathe and take a gamble! Debt? What difference does ten thousand dollars make to a country that might not survive tomorrow?!"

"If I can't pay it back, I won't pay it back."

Karl Rove was speechless, his mouth agape, unable to utter a rebuttal.

It seems like he thinks the president wants to become a deadbeat?!
Ignoring the Chief of Staff's shock, George W. Bush turned to Secretary of Defense Green. "Jonathan, you just mentioned that the Navy and Air Force have more complete systems? Okay, then let me ask you, what hard currency do we have that can be immediately converted into cash? I mean, besides national debt and commitments, what tangible things that others can see, touch, and are willing to pay for immediately?"

Defense Secretary Green was taken aback by the question, frowning as he pondered: "Cash out? Hard currency? Most of our gold reserves are in Fort Knox, that's the final cornerstone, absolutely untouchable. Our strategic oil reserves are also there, and the army's active-duty equipment is the foundation of our combat power, that too cannot be sold..."

He shook his head with a wry smile, "Mr. President, we are not arms dealers, we are the military..."

"Wait!" Bush seemed to suddenly grasp something. He sat up abruptly, staring intently at Green. "Active equipment can't be sold, but what about the damaged ones? The retired and stored ones? Or those that aren't needed right now, but are extremely expensive to repair?"

"I remember that in those conflicts in the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean, we had several warships that were severely damaged. After being towed back to the mainland, they remained in port awaiting repairs due to a lack of funds and docks, right?"

Defense Secretary Green seemed to understand Bush's intention. "Yes, Mr. President. For example, the Arleigh Burke-class destroyer has suffered severe hull damage and its propulsion system is almost unusable. The initial assessment estimates repair costs at $8 million, more than half of its construction cost. There's also a Ticonderoga-class cruiser whose superstructure and radar system have been destroyed, and several Perry-class frigates with varying degrees of damage, but all with very low repair value..."

"It has low repair value, but what about its value as a second-hand item, or... as a 'part'?"

George W. Bush turned around, his face flushed with excitement. "Jonathan, contact the Indians immediately! Ask them if they're interested in these secondhand warships. Tell them we can provide blueprints and technical data, and even help them repair and upgrade them in our shipyard, as long as they pay."

"India?" Defense Secretary Green was stunned, and subconsciously said, "Would they even want them? These are all damaged ships, and what about our Congress and our allies..."

"Congress? To hell with them! This is a state of emergency!" Bush waved his hand, his tone leaving no room for argument. "India has been seeking to modernize its navy. They crave advanced technology, especially American-made ship technology! These ships may be damaged, but the fundamentals are still intact. For them, this is a windfall! They can acquire a fleet whose strength is instantly enhanced at a much lower price than building new ships! Go and ask!"

"Yes, sir!"

At this point, Karl Rove added, "Mr. President, even with the money from selling warships and loans from conglomerates, it may still not be enough. We will still need to borrow huge sums of money from the international market. This is too risky. European and Japanese bankers are not fools; they are likely to demand extremely high interest rates, or even attach political conditions."

George W. Bush walked back to his desk, sat down again, picked up the pen engraved with his name, and slowly twirled it between his fingers, his eyes deep.

He spoke slowly, "You're right, they're not fools, but we have no other choice."

He stopped twirling the pen and gently tapped the tip of the pen on the table.

"Go and talk to them. Tell the Europeans and the Japanese, and of course, you can also ask others quietly. The United States of America needs to borrow money, a lot of money."

“We can sell anything if they need it.”

“Tell them that if the ship of America sinks, all the cargo on board, including their huge holdings of US Treasury bonds and their investments in the United States, will go down to the bottom of the sea.”

Karl Rove stared blankly at the president, at that young face already etched with signs of fatigue.

He got it.

The president isn't seeking a solution; he's taking a huge gamble.

They had no way out.

“I understand, Mr. President.” Karl Rove’s voice was a little hoarse. “I will arrange contacts with all parties immediately.”

George W. Bush nodded, leaned back wearily in his chair, and waved.

Defense Secretary Green and Karl Rove silently left the office.

The door was closed gently.

He sat alone behind that desk that symbolized supreme power, his figure appearing somewhat lonely in the dim light.

He muttered to himself, as if trying to convince himself, or as if questioning fate: "There is no way out, absolutely no way out."

"Either we live together, or we die together."

"May God be with me, and with America!"