Working as a police officer in Mexico.

Chapter 745 My beautiful soft body is resting on my shoulder!

"Thump thump thump~"

The corridor was filled with the sound of hurried footsteps.

In the White House Situation Study Room.

George W. Bush sat at the head of the long table, with four or five cigarette butts piled up in the ashtray in front of him, and a cigarette dangling from his mouth.

This thing was invented to kill time and relieve frustration.

Defense Secretary Jonathan W. Green had just finished his briefing when the screen showed the Illinois army's offensive arrows and the chaotic defensive posture of the Indiana National Guard.

"That bastard Bramo stabbed us in the back while 60 percent of our East Coast mobile forces were pinned down in the Gulf of Maine and 30 percent of our air force was fighting the Mexicans for air superiority. And it took us at least five hours to realize that this wasn't a border skirmish, but a full-scale invasion?!"

The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff looked equally grim: "Mr. President, we are severely understaffed with our strategic reserves in the Midwest. It will take time to move troops from Kentucky or Ohio, and Bramo's armored forces are advancing very quickly. Gerry City may not be able to hold out until tonight, and Hammond City is also under pressure."

"Then tell them to hurry up!" George W. Bush slammed his fist on the table. "Tell those damn governors to send in everyone they can! National Guard, state troopers, even the fucking zookeepers! Hold them off! Use every force at your disposal to crush Bramo's offensive in Indiana!"

The National Security Advisor cautiously began, "Under the Insurrection Act, you have the authority to federalize the National Guard of each state and directly engage them in domestic conflict..."

“We are fighting a civil war!” the CIA director said gravely. “And, Mr. President, I must remind you that Bramo enjoys considerable support in Illinois, and his slogans of ‘independence’ and ‘resistance against tyranny’ resonate strongly in the agriculturally and industrially declining Midwest. If we overreact, engaging in indiscriminate bombing or military action that could result in massive civilian casualties, it could trigger wider social unrest.”

"Isn't this treason?"

"When he declared the formation of the nation, Bramo was already an enemy of the United States?!"

“Everyone else can be salvaged, but don’t forget, the entire Rumsfeld family is dead, only he’s left. Do you think he can make things alright for us?”

George W. Bush seemed a bit out of sorts, mainly due to excessive mental stress.

You killed your entire family...

The room immediately became quiet.

After a long while...

Chief of Staff Karl Rove broke the silence, his voice tinged with weary realism: “George, the CIA director’s concerns are valid. This is a political war, and a military war. We need to stop Bramo militarily, and isolate him politically at the same time. We must make it clear to the nation, especially to everyone, that Bramo is a traitor, not some damn ‘freedom fighter.’”

What kind of people doesn't America have?

After all, when someone can say something like, "Although they died, they gained freedom," you can tell there are all sorts of idiots out there.

George W. Bush certainly understood this principle.

He finally looked at the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, his voice hoarse, “I authorize you to mobilize all available federal forces, including but not limited to the federalized National Guard of neighboring states, and to use conventional Army forces, with one objective: to crush the Bramo offensive before Indianapolis is threatened. If necessary, I authorize the use of air power to strike identified military targets, but to avoid civilian areas as much as possible.”

"As for Bramo, find a way to assassinate him!"

"Understood, sir!"

An abandoned combine harvester factory on the outskirts of Green, Indiana.

This used to be a pig farm, and you can still smell the "manure" there.

The 1st Platoon of Company A occupied this ruin as a temporary stronghold. The factory's steel structure was exposed, the walls were riddled with bullet holes, and the air was filled with a mixture of rust, gunpowder smoke, and a faint smell of burnt corpses.

Corporal Marcus Coleman leaned against a broken concrete beam, wiping his M4 rifle with a dirty rag.

The new recruit Rice sat opposite him, his eyes still somewhat vacant, holding a compressed biscuit in his hand, but he didn't take a bite for a long time.

"Eat something, newbie." Marcus said without looking up. "Who knows when the next firefight will start? You can't run on an empty stomach."

"corporal……"

Rice's voice trembled slightly, "We...we're really fighting other Americans? I saw that kid in the trench, he looked about my brother's age..."

Marcus paused, raised his eyelids, and looked at Rice with his cloudy eyes: "Wearing that damn Indiana uniform and pointing a gun at you, he's the enemy. There are no 'Americans' on the battlefield, only 'living' and 'dead.' Which do you want to be?"

Just then, a familiar "whoosh" sound came from afar, sharp and deadly.

"Bombardment!! Take cover—!" Lieutenant Jenkins's roar came through both the radio and the screen simultaneously.

"Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Shells rained down on the factory area like hail, the explosions were deafening, and shattered concrete and twisted metal flew everywhere.

"Damn it! It's a 120mm mortar! They've called in heavy firepower!" Marcus yanked Rice behind a more sturdy machine base.

The entire factory area was instantly engulfed in flames and smoke.

A scream rang out as a soldier hiding behind a half-wall was hit directly, his body blown to pieces, blood and flesh splattering all over the nearby broken wall.

Rice covered his ears tightly, curled up in a ball, and trembled uncontrollably. Fear gripped him again, even more so than during the first exchange of fire.

The shelling lasted for what felt like an eternity.

As the explosions gradually subsided, the surviving soldiers looked up from behind their bunkers, their ears still ringing.

"Check for casualties! Report the situation!" Jenkins' voice was filled with rapid breathing.

"Vehicles 1 and 2 have been hit! They have lost power!"

"Two members of Team B have been killed and one is seriously injured!"

"Medics! We need medics here!"

In the chaos, the sound of intense automatic weapon fire and engine roars suddenly erupted outside the factory!
"Enemy infantry! Accompanied by armored vehicles! In large numbers!" the lookout shouted hoarsely.

Outside the factory ruins and along the edge of the woods, a large number of soldiers dressed in Indiana National Guard camouflage appeared.
"Fire! Stop them!" Jenkins roared, his eyes red.

The remaining Illinois soldiers fought back desperately from the factory ruins. The sounds of M16 and M249 gunfire filled the air once again.

But the enemy outnumbered them too many and launched a fierce offensive. They had clearly received reinforcements and were attempting to retake this crucial point.

"Hound 1-1, Hound 1-1! We are under attack by an enemy battalion-sized counterattack! Requesting artillery support! Coordinates: Echo-Charlie-Seven-Niner..." Jenkins shouted into the radio.

"Hound 1-1, command received. Hold on, reinforcements are on their way. Repeat, hold on!"

"Damn it!" Jenkins cursed, grabbing his rifle and joining the firing.

Marcus and Rice's Group A was under immense pressure. The west gate of the factory they were defending was one of the enemy's main attack points, and bullets were raining down on their cover, making a thud.

"boom!"

With a muffled thud from a sniper rifle, a machine gunner from Team A suddenly jerked his head back, a hole appeared in his helmet, and he fell to the ground without a sound.

"Curry!!! Holy crap, there's a sniper! Three o'clock, near the water tower!" someone screamed.

The suppressive firepower weakened instantly. Taking advantage of this, the Indiana soldiers advanced another dozen meters, and began throwing grenades into the factory.

"Hold on! Hold on!" Marcus roared as he fired, but his voice was so weak amidst the deafening gunfire. Rice looked at his fallen comrades, at the enemy surging in like a tide in the distance, at the bloodstains left by the blown-to-toe soldier, and he felt like he was suffocating.

Just then, a completely different engine roar came from the sky, deep and powerful.

Four A-10 Warthog attack aircraft, their wings laden with munitions, swooped down from the clouds. Their iconic 30mm seven-barreled Gatling guns began to spin, emitting a terrifying sound like tearing fabric.

“BRRRRRRRRT——!”

The first volley of fire was like a scorching razor, fiercely slicing through the attacking ranks outside the factory. The depleted uranium armor-piercing rounds fired by the GAU-8 cannon were like a visible whip of fire, instantly tearing apart, shredding, and detonating human bodies, bricks, and even the side armor of light armored vehicles wherever they passed.

The Indiana soldiers' lines, which had been advancing frantically just moments before, were instantly shattered.

An M113 armored personnel carrier was the first to be hit. A 30mm shell easily penetrated its relatively thin top armor, causing a violent explosion inside. The vehicle was torn open like a toy box, and the turret was thrown several meters high in the flames. Fragments of metal and the remains of the crew inside were scattered in a radial pattern on the surrounding ruins.

The sniper positions on the water tower fell silent instantly. The Warthog pilots had clearly prioritized these high-value targets. The upper structure of the water tower collapsed under the precise fire of the machine guns, and blocks of cement and twisted steel bars mixed with human tissue poured down.

"Suppress! Suppress! Don't let them raise their heads!"

Marcus's voice was hoarse with excitement and adrenaline. He almost jumped up and fired his M4 fiercely at the enemy who were stunned by the Warthog's firepower.

Rice stared blankly at the hellish scene before him.

The enemies that were surging in like a tide just a second ago are now screaming in agony under the A-10's gun barrel!
The scorching heat of burning metal and the acrid smell of roasting meat were even stronger than before. He saw an Indiana soldier not far away who had been swept by the edge of a machine gun. His upper body was almost gone, and only his legs below the waist remained standing for a second before collapsing.

He felt something tightly blocking his throat, and his fingers dug into the concrete debris beneath him, drawing blood.

It was clearly not enough for the warthogs to clear the field in one go.

They maneuvered nimbly in the air, cutting back into their attack path. This time, they dropped smoke grenades to mark the area for the next precision strike, followed by aerial bombs.

"Boom!!!"

The massive shockwave from the explosion shook the entire factory foundation, ten times more powerful than the previous mortar attack.

A scorching blast of air, carrying dust and debris, crashed against helmets and bulletproof plates with a crackling sound. A load-bearing wall that was already on the verge of collapse crumbled completely under the impact of the near miss, burying several soldiers who didn't have time to dodge.

"Hold your position, use cover!" Lieutenant Jenkins roared into the radio, but his voice was broken and completely drowned out by the sound of the explosion.

Marcus pulled back, coughing violently and spitting out the mud and sand in his mouth. He glanced at Rice beside him. The recruit's face no longer showed the emptiness and fear from before, but instead a numb, almost blank calm. His eyes were fixed on the death zone shrouded in flames and thick smoke in front of him.

“Welcome to the war, kid.” Marcus muttered to himself, unsure whether he was speaking to Rice or to himself.

...

On the evening of February 21, 1996, just hours after George W. Bush finished his meeting with key personnel, in the Senate chamber on Capitol Hill.

He sat there with a helpless expression, listening to Howard McCarthy, one of the senior Republican leaders from Massachusetts, speaking eloquently from the podium.

"Yes, we are all concerned about the tragedy in Maine, about how our brave young men are defending the East Coast against foreign aggression! But, Mr. President, my colleagues, ask yourselves, why? Why have we ended up in this desperate situation of fighting on two fronts, no, on three fronts?!"

"Is it because of a mad Mexican dictator? Is it because of a rebellious Illinois governor? No! The root cause lies in the utter failure of this government's disastrous foreign and domestic policies!"

"It is the current administration's willful actions and strategic misjudgments that have exacerbated the conflict with Mexico, ultimately leading to the outbreak of war. It is the current administration's disregard for and forceful suppression of the demands of the states that have fostered confrontation and separatism! And now, the president is actually asking us to grant him more power and to call up more troops to wage a war that has no end in sight, on our own soil!"

McCarthy's voice suddenly rose: "I hereby solemnly declare that I and my party will never support the Federal Emergency Management Act. We will not give a government that has proven incompetent a blank check, allowing it to send more young Americans into the meat grinders of the Midwest and the East Coast! What we need is negotiation! A political solution! To stop this tragedy of brothers fighting each other!"

An angry rebuttal erupted from the ruling party's seats:

"traitor!"

"You're handing a knife to the enemy!"

"How can you suppress a rebellion without authorization?!"

The situation was almost out of control, and the speaker was pounding his gavel.

The scene was almost out of control, with shouts, table-pounding, and sarcastic remarks rising and falling. The speaker, his face ashen, pounded his gavel and shouted, "Order! Order!" but his voice was completely drowned out by the boiling argument.

Just then, George W. Bush, who had been silent all along, suddenly stood up. His movements were so large that his chair scraped against the ground with a screeching sound. He strode directly onto the podium and, to everyone's astonishment, almost violently shoved aside the Speaker, who was still futilely striking the gavel, and took over the speaker's seat.

He roared into the microphone:
"Shut the fuck up, all of you!!!"

The sound was like a thunderclap, instantly drowning out all the noise. A moment of silence truly fell over the entire hall.

George W. Bush's chest heaved violently as he stared intently at Howard McCarthy in the audience, pointing a finger at him. His voice trembled with excitement, yet carried a desperate, resolute edge.

“Howard! You stand here, talking a good game, shifting all the blame to the government and to me! You think it's all my fault, that my incompetence caused all this! Fine! Then you come here! Do you really want to sit in this position? Do you think that as long as you come, all the problems will be solved?”

He slammed his hand on the podium with a loud bang: "Then I'll let you be president! If you think you can do a better job than me, if you're confident you can save this country from this mess, I can step down right now! You fucking become president!"

These earth-shattering words stunned everyone, even McCarthy himself was clearly taken aback, a hint of panic flashing across his face.

I'm just bragging.

Isn't the relationship between the two parties just about undermining each other?

These are rules that have been in place for so many years.

I stood up to undermine you, and you started acting like a coward?
McCarthy wasn't stupid; taking office at this time would be suicide, wouldn't it?
But George W. Bush wasn't finished. He stared at McCarthy and said, enunciating each word clearly, "But you better remember this, Howard McCarthy! If you take this job, if you fail, even if it only makes this country a little bit worse than it is now, I promise you, I'll hold you and we'll jump off the White House together! We'll use our blood to atone for this country that might be destroyed because of us! Do you dare?!"

This extreme and insane oath, filled with a resolute determination to perish together, made the entire Senate chamber so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

McCarthy was completely stunned by his sudden and unconventional political aura. He opened his mouth, but found that he could not make a sound.

At this critical moment for McCarthy, some members of the opposition camp realized the situation and couldn't bear to see their leader back down. Some began to whisper encouragement, their voices growing louder and louder.

"Howard, say yes!"

Don't let him scare you! You can do it!

"Can't you, Howard McCarthy, shoulder the responsibility for our great America, with its 49 states?" (Two states are gone.)
"Yes! Carry it up! Let him see!"

The people around him kept encouraging him, their voices converging in an attempt to salvage the awkward situation.

However, these commotions only highlighted McCarthy's hesitation and struggle at that moment. His face was flushed, and he stood there, caught in a dilemma.

You bunch of sons of bitches, if you have a temper, deal with it yourselves.

Alright, now you're stuck in a bind!

But before he could finish speaking, a sudden air raid siren blared on Capitol Hill!
"woo woo woo woo--"

The guards rushed in, and a Secret Service agent ran to Bush's side. "Sir, we need to take cover. An unidentified flying object is crossing over here!"

……

(End of this chapter)