Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 147 This Life Has

Rebel headquarters.

Their phone was at command center, so Juan had it on speakerphone.

Upon hearing Milton's nonchalant voice, everyone in the command post, including the "commander," was bewildered.

Do you want to listen to what you are saying?
In just one night, they destroyed over a dozen of Lopez's armored vehicles?!
Was this a battle of annihilation? And was it only achieved by Lopez cramming his armored vehicles together, sending them to their deaths in a line?

You just hit a mini-Kursk here?
"Uh, that 'hell tax collector,' are you sure the number you said is correct?"

Milton's leisurely voice came from the other end of the receiver: "By noon today at the latest, you will see extensive coverage of this matter on television news... Of course, to prevent them from spreading fake news, my Malacan television station will broadcast this matter first."

"The headline is... cracking down on a group of unidentified criminals illegally smuggling weapons, right?"

Hellish tax collectors...

Juan's admiration for Milton had reached an indescribable level, and he cautiously asked, "Mr. Hell Tax Collector, may I ask how many men you took with you this time, how exactly was the battle fought, and what were the losses?"

Everyone was now imagining a massive land battle—Milton, relying on his advanced tactical concepts, the cover of night, and the soldiers' strong execution and fearless charge, had worn down the enemy's armored forces after suffering considerable casualties.

If Milton could share this battle experience, the guerrillas might learn a lot and gain the upper hand on the battlefield.

Milton continued slowly, "No injuries... well, one person had a minor abrasion, but he fell down on his own."

Juan: "..."

The other command staff were completely dumbfounded—if it weren't for Milton being the one calling, they would have thought the person on the other end was some kind of madman.

They wouldn't dare fabricate such a battle report.

"Mr. 'Hell Tax Collector,' why don't you just say it directly..."

Milton, feigning satisfaction, laughed heartily: "It's simple. I didn't engage them in direct combat. I deliberately spread the word that I would attack his port by land, causing him to concentrate his armored forces there."

"Then, I chose to fly over from the sky and hijack his transport ship."

"At that time, all those tanks and weapons were facing away from me."

“With their concentrated deployment, destroying just a few of them would cause severe congestion, while my ship is a full 3 kilometers away from them… any weapons that could reach us would be destroyed by our anti-tank missiles in an instant.”

"With heavy traffic and weapons out of our reach, even the most powerful armored forces are sitting ducks. As for helicopters, that's an unexpected situation."

"You'll find out the details when you watch TV later."

The people at the command post were once again stunned into silence.

They robbed one of Lopez's transport ships, then bombarded the port... and wiped out the armored forces gathered there.

A picture suddenly appeared in Lark's mind, and he exhaled: "I think I can picture that scene now."

"To put it bluntly, this was just a lucky special operation, mainly relying on the information gap." After Milton finished speaking, he also said seriously, "Lopez will definitely install air defense systems on his ship in the future to guard against my move."

"One success that cannot be replicated. I briefly dealt a heavy blow to Lopez's armored forces, and that was all."

An inappropriate analogy, similar to the attack on Pearl Harbor.

Juan also realized the problem, and this time even his voice was filled with deep regret: "What a pity, what a pity! If we could have withstood the attack head-on, we might have been able to achieve even greater results thanks to your victory. What a pity!"

Unfortunately, they were defeated in a direct confrontation.

“There’s nothing to regret,” Milton’s voice came through. “Tell me first, how’s the situation on your end?”

"The enemy sent three Dragonfly drones to support their army at the most critical moment, and also dropped aerial bombs weighing 250 kg each... Now we have lost half of our defensive positions in front of the Seguala River. The soldiers are still holding on, but the situation is not optimistic."

Milton thought for a moment and said, "There's no need to hold out. Abandon all positions and let your soldiers retreat to the other side of the river in an orderly manner."

"This, this won't do!" Juan said, feeling a pang of regret. "Are we just going to give up the position like this? It won't be easy to take it back later."

The command center was just urgently formulating a counter-offensive plan.

“It’s alright, let them go. Holding the high ground will reduce your casualties and prevent me from accidentally hitting you when I attack them,” Milton said slowly. “Then, we need to stay in touch… You’d better find the location of the enemy’s frontline command post and give me the exact coordinates. Secondly, find the areas where the enemy is densely deployed.”

Juan's heart skipped a beat, and he asked, "What is this?"

“Have you forgotten? I mentioned it to you,” Milton reminded him. “I not only wiped out Lopez’s armored company, but I also seized a howitzer, a 152mm cannon-howitzer.”

"Give them the positions in front of the river, and let them experience what it means to be attacked from both sides."

With the combat capabilities of a regular army, breaking through the river in a short time is simply a pipe dream—even with the help of aircraft.

Then, the regular army can enjoy what it means to have several lives randomly taken away every day.

A more capable army would not expose such a weakness—if the rear is unstable, the troops at the front will not charge recklessly.

But the situation is different for the regular army—to put it nicely, they are achieving a breakthrough from the center; to put it bluntly, they are being attacked from both sides!

Milton now has weapons with extremely long range, how could he not sneak up on them and fire a few shots from behind?
Before long, the morale of those temporarily recruited filler children will collapse.

“I understand, thank you for your support.” Juan sighed. “Let’s pack our things and leave immediately.”

“Don’t take what you can’t take,” Milton reminded. “Remember, the lives of soldiers are more important than supplies. If you want them to die, send them to me. I’ll trade you more supplies. I’m desperately short of people right now.”

Juan felt a pang of heartache, but after thinking about the transport planes that had been arriving almost daily lately, he nodded vigorously and said, "...I understand!"

"Great, keep in touch."

"..."

……

Vevetenango Province, frontline.

Thump thump thump... Thump thump thump... Boom...

Sparse gunfire and explosions rang out intermittently.

In a makeshift camp of the rebels, several soldiers were hurriedly packing their belongings, preparing to evacuate—not long ago, they had received orders from the supreme command to abandon their positions and retreat to the other side of the river via a pontoon bridge.

"We could still have resisted..."

"Stop talking nonsense," the squad leader warned immediately. "On the battlefield, orders must be obeyed."

"Squad leader, I...I will definitely obey orders. I just don't understand, are we just going to give up these positions like this? Why not put up a little more resistance?"

“I know you want to avenge your defeat, but the enemy has planes, and if we can’t win, we can’t win. We’ve already lost our terrain advantage in this area, and the enemy still has an advantage in equipment and numbers, so there’s no point in holding on.”

Thanks to the support of the respected "Hell Tax Collector," the rebels were already better equipped than the regular army in terms of light weaponry, but they still couldn't withstand the enemy's formidable heavy firepower.

The squad leader opened the sack, filled it with weapons and ammunition, and continued:

“Since command is ordering us to retreat, it means they have a better plan. We’ve been fighting for decades, we have some patience. You guys, take your guns, mortars, and shells, and retreat with me.”

"Squad leader." The soldier looked at the remaining cans on the ground, his heartache written all over his face. "What about all this food? Was it just thrown here?"

"If we can't take it with us, then we can only stay here. Who told us to lose? Or do you think a bite to eat is more important than cannons, more important than your bulletproof vests and helmets? Can you even count how many times they've saved your life?"

"You can overcome hunger and eat something else to fill your stomach, but can you overcome bullets?"

"But……"

The soldier winced in distress, but couldn't say anything.

Not long ago, they were in dire straits, eating grass roots and even soil, and some people were starving to death.

Being able to eat a hot meal, especially meat, on the front lines was a luxury that would have been unthinkable in the past.

Of course, they also knew that the food in front of them was sent by plane by the "Hell Tax Collectors" at any cost.

The food at the rear has hardly improved. These foods, which are easy to transport, easy to preserve, and high in calories, are sent to the front lines almost as soon as they get off the plane, otherwise they simply cannot withstand the enormous consumption.

Because of this food, the fighting will and morale of the resistance fighters on the front lines were greatly strengthened—as long as people feel that their struggle is useful and that their lives are getting better, even if the degree is small, it is a huge encouragement.

But now these foods are being carelessly discarded, who wouldn't feel heartbroken?

Just a few days ago they were eating grass roots, and today they're going to leave the meat lying around and destroy it?
The squad leader chuckled: "Besides, who said they can't be used? You guys, take a few anti-personnel mines and place them next to this food. Remember to hide them well."

"Will this be of any use?" one soldier asked hesitantly. "Would the regular army lack food? They even have tanks."

“It’s not like we haven’t captured enemy positions before, but I haven’t found them to have any particularly good food,” the squad leader said. “They certainly don’t have this much food.”

"If they can use this food to save a few enemy lives, then they will have served their purpose."

"Let's go."

After laying the anti-personnel mines, the soldier took one last reluctant look at the food on the ground, stroked the bulletproof vest with several bullet holes on his body, and turned to follow his squad leader to retreat towards the river.

……

The area occupied by regular troops not far away.

A filthy man, reeking of a foul stench, moved on the ground.

chug chu...

Gail, holding his PPSh-41, crouched behind the reverse slope, casually raised the gun above his head, and pulled the trigger in the direction of the enemy.

After he finished, he immediately scrambled to find another reverse slope, not daring to linger in the same place.

There were a few other comrades there, covered in dust and wearing regular army uniforms, all huddled together, not daring to show their heads.

“Damn it, this war is nothing like I imagined,” Gale, a former gangster, complained, enduring the pain and festering skin from the dampness. “Why didn’t anyone tell us?”

I originally thought it was just a matter of fighting a gang war in a different location—driving with a few people, getting out of the car when we arrived, shooting with submachine guns, and that was it.

But when the fight broke out, they discovered that it wasn't like that at all.

The consequence of firing indiscriminately is being taken out by a mortar shell that comes from who-knows-where.

The only outcome of charging forward in a vehicle is being launched into the air by the rebels' recoilless rifles.

Forget about charging in a group; a machine gun barrage would be like mowing grass...

In order to get higher pay, these people boasted to the recruiting officer about how good they were at fighting and how good their marksmanship was... but when they got to the real battlefield, they found that they couldn't even find the enemy.

Even when they were sleeping at night, a rebel soldier might sneak up and throw a grenade at their feet.

In just two or three days, Gale's platoon had lost more than half its men. If they weren't on the front lines where food was scarce, and if they weren't backed by armored vehicles and tanks acting as "supervisory forces," they would have collapsed long ago.

No, if it weren't for the planes that swept through the enemy forces yesterday, the entire army might have collapsed.

One of his companions sighed and said, "Let's eat something first..."

When the topic of "eating" came up, these people showed expressions of great discomfort.

The "food" the regular army gave them consisted of extremely hard, dry bread that looked like bricks if you didn't know better.

I can't even eat this rubbish without soaking it in water.

Gail felt nauseous looking at the sour, gritty, and hard thing: "Let's get some water... Sigh, if it weren't for the fact that leaving now would be desertion, no money, and a death sentence, I would have left already."

Another man who had enlisted with him offered words of comfort: "It's alright. Our conditions are considered good. The rebels are in a much worse situation than us. I heard that many of them have starved to death."

"Yes, I heard they can't even afford a decent gun. This is the battlefield. We're doing much better here; at least we have something to eat."

"As long as we're doing better than the rebels, that's fine."

"Can't these rebels just die already? They saw the plane and didn't run away. These aren't ordinary rebels anymore; they should all be bombed to death."

"Really... I don't think these rebels are as weak as they say. Their guns seem pretty powerful, and they even have mortars to bombard us."

"Once I conquer their territory, I'll slaughter a whole village for fun, hehe... I've heard that many people here do just that."

“You don’t understand, we are ‘liberating’ them.”

"..."

The group chatted as they carefully soaked the bread in water.

Life may be tough, but as long as the enemy's life is tougher than ours, there is still hope.

They can even live a very comfortable life.

Before they could even take a couple of bites, a cold command suddenly came from behind them.

"Everyone, charge!"

"The enemy has been routed! Charge! Capture their positions!"

"The fastest runner gets a reward of 500 qqal!"

"Charge! Haven't you noticed? The rebels' firepower has weakened considerably. They can't hold out any longer; they're retreating. Anyone who wants to earn merit, charge now!"

Upon hearing these words, Gale was suddenly energized. He immediately picked up his gun, stood up, and charged toward the enemy's position.

"Charge! Slaughter all the rebels!"

"Rush!!!"

When Gale heard that it was a full 500 gechars, his hands and feet trembled with excitement, and he wished he could be at the very front.

Having experienced defeat before, he knew that in such situations, it was difficult for the enemy to mount a counterattack, and whoever charged the fastest would be the one to achieve the greatest merit.

They could even take some things the enemy didn't have time to take as spoils of war—such as food.

Of course, in Gale's mind, the rebels ate pig feed.

But maybe we can get a better gun?
After charging for a while, Gale saw an abandoned position, which was in complete disarray and looked like it had just been hastily retreated.

Suddenly, a joyful voice came from behind Gale: "Holy crap! Canned food, SPAM luncheon meat?! The rebels are eating this well?"

Before Gail could react, the figure rushed up from behind at an unimaginable speed, greedily pouncing on the cans of food.

The next second, a loud bang came from ahead.

A Claymore mine buried on the side has been triggered!
Countless shrapnels swept in, and Gale endured the ringing in her ears as she watched her "friendly forces" be riddled with holes by various steel balls and crash heavily to the ground.

Gale was about to berate his comrades for their lack of martial ethics when, before he could even speak, he saw him die right before his eyes.

Compared to a real battlefield, gang shootouts really are like children playing house...

In just a few days, Gail had witnessed countless times how the people around her were laughing and chatting one second and then dying on the spot the next.

The other soldiers who had come up to grab the spoils froze in place. After a few seconds, they cried out in alarm and scattered in all directions, or lay down on the spot.

"Just a landmine." Gale shook his head, carefully watching his feet as he arrived at the abandoned camp.

After eliminating the threat, he carefully approached the scattered cans, picked them up, and shook them.

It's actually true...?!
These are several cans of real luncheon meat!
Unlike those who only had eyes for food, Gail had a perplexing question on his mind.

Why were the rebels able to eat meat and even appear quite wealthy? There were also a large pile of other opened and empty cans on the ground.

They can even use meat as bait!

The rebels, rumored to be starving to death, are actually using food to lure in regular troops who are already well-fed and clothed?!

The situation was completely different from what the recruiting officers had spread—that the rebels would starve to death!
On the ground, Gale even saw some completely destroyed bulletproof vests and bulletproof helmets broken into pieces.

A thought suddenly occurred to me... Are the rebels really as vulnerable as they've been portrayed to be? Are they really that badly off?

Before Gale could form any ideas, a group of people around him saw that the camp was safe and immediately rushed forward.

Even the regular soldiers, who were already drooling over bread and biscuits, couldn't take their eyes off canned meat.

"Eat up, eat up! Everyone gets a share!"

"I'll start a fire; this stuff tastes even better when it's heated up..."

"Take them away, don't light a fire here, or you'll get attacked by the rebels."

"..."

Soon, the group retreated to the back and lit a fire, sending up smoke.

The aroma of meat wafting from the can temporarily suppressed Gale's various doubts. He got up, left the campfire, and went to urinate some distance away.

In any case, let's eat the meat first.

A little grilling over a low flame, a bite of meat, life is still pretty good...

The next second, a metal lump fell at high speed from the side without warning, landing next to the camp where luncheon meat was being grilled.

Before Gail could react, an extremely terrifying roar and a powerful shockwave came, throwing him into the air before he crashed down.

He lost consciousness in an instant.

"..."

After an unknown amount of time, Gale's hazy consciousness sensed that he was roughly pulled onto something, and he could vaguely hear a voice full of complaints.

A sharp buzzing sound filled his ears, and Gail could only vaguely hear the conversation.

"How is this person still alive? He's incredibly lucky. It's such a pity... It would have been better if he had just shattered like the others."

"……he."

"What should I do? Abandon...?"

"Forget it... Didn't Mr. Lopez say he wanted to set up a few role models for publicity? This kid is lucky. Let it go... Anyway, he's crippled and can't cause any trouble."

"..."

Gail fell unconscious again.

Beep beep... After an unknown amount of time, Gail once again heard the sounds of various IV drips hitting the metal frame and the cacophony of voices.

Gail suddenly woke up and instinctively jumped up—he glanced around at his surroundings, where the air was thick with the smell of blood, IV drips, and faint groans and cries of pain.

It was incredibly chaotic, with almost no one in charge.

The pain from the needle being pulled so violently in his left hand told him that he was in a hospital, but the environment was horribly appalling, with a large number of wounded crammed into a place that resembled a warehouse...

Was he injured by an explosion on the battlefield and then hospitalized?

Gail glanced instinctively at her legs, then screamed, "My legs! Where are my legs?!"

He frantically reached out his right hand to confirm.

"Where are my hands?!"

He lost a leg and an arm!

How are we supposed to live after this?!
"Quiet down!" Just then, a man who looked like an officer walked in. He glanced at the wounded soldiers below with extreme disgust and said coldly, "Because of your heroic fighting and the great victory at the front, your sacrifices have been worthwhile. The rebels are now being routed and fleeing in disarray. As for you, the country will not forget you. Go collect your money after you are discharged from the hospital."

“Congressman Lopez is very kind and generous. He arranged a television for you so that you wouldn’t be bored while you were in the hospital.”

"You, yes, you, you're in charge of the TV. There's something else going on at the front, I'm leaving now."

After saying that, the officer made no attempt to hide his impatience and turned to leave the hospital.

The person assigned to control the remote glanced at the small black-and-white TV shared by everyone in the warehouse, frowned in disdain, and immediately jogged away after the officer left.

The stench of blood and decay is unbearable; anyone who wants to stay here can stay elsewhere!

In the hospital, a suffocating and despairing atmosphere immediately enveloped the hearts of all the wounded soldiers.

"Hey! Brothers!" Just then, a wounded soldier who had only lost a few fingers jumped up, clapped his hands, and said, "Don't be discouraged, we won the battle! We've won! We're heroes! Cheer up!"

"Think about the future, think about that compensation, we've got our lives covered!"

"So, I know a really exciting and thrilling TV channel..."

"Anyway, the person in charge of the TV has left. I'll show you around. I guarantee it'll be awesome. I just don't know what programs they'll be broadcasting today."

After saying that, the wounded soldier, who had been trying to liven things up, secretly went to the television set, reached out and adjusted the knob, switching the channel to "Malakam TV".

P.S.: I fixed a bug on the company website in yesterday's update. I'm quite busy today, so I can only update to 6000 words.

(End of this chapter)