Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 185 Operation Code Name: Big White Giveaway
The soldier who was carefully holding the box containing the MRE in his hands, and was thinking about having a good meal after killing the enemy, was very lucky to become one of the first targets.
.
The .50 BMG bullet pierced through his body armor and tore his body and parachute to pieces!

The body parts, the tangled parachute, and the box in his hand scattered everywhere and landed on the ground.

Bouncing! Boom! Boom! Boom!
The sounds of machine guns and cannons were incessant, and under the illumination of flares, the dense bullets hit their targets almost effortlessly.

Milton was hiding near the command post, listening to the messages from various frontline commanders on the radio while looking up at the sky.

Flora gripped the rifle and nodded slightly, saying, "Not bad, the accuracy is higher than I expected."

"Isn't that obvious... Paratroopers are so slow, it's easier to mow them down with machine guns and cannons than to shoot at moving targets during training."

Using these weapons to shoot down fixed-wing aircraft is a joke, and they might not even hit high-speed helicopters, but they're perfect for hitting people floating in the air—anyone who's ever fired a gun could hit them.

"Tsk tsk!"

The two men kept watch while looking up at the fireworks display in the sky.

Tracer rounds were constantly helping the resistance fighters using machine guns on the ground to correct their trajectories, and these paratroopers who had just jumped out of the plane didn't even have a chance to take advantage of the chaos.

Anti-aircraft guns then joined the fray, and the 25mm shells were utterly indiscriminate; anyone who grazed them was dead.

At this point, some people were already trying to cut the parachute lines or jettison their parachutes to accelerate their descent, but they seemed to have forgotten that people die when they fall from a height...

"what--"

"what!!!"

Illuminated by the flares, a large number of torsos crashed against the riverbank rocks like a torrential rain, the crisp sound of skulls hitting stones ringing out incessantly.

A large number of corpses broke apart and scattered on the ground with a clatter... The sound even made the rebels who were firing feel a little creeped out.

The rebels even fired a SAM-7 anti-aircraft missile from their positions, hitting a helicopter that hadn't yet taken off.

The helicopter, engulfed in flames and thick smoke, plummeted towards the ground, exploding into a fireball on the riverbank.

This is not a battle at all; it's a one-sided massacre!

Flora said, "Actually, I've found that anti-aircraft guns aren't very effective at shooting down planes, but they're really good at shooting people."

Milton wholeheartedly agreed: "Yes, for example, the SACK building, which was destroyed by our, no, by the Juarez Group's 727... It's great as a fortress, but it might not be so suitable as a helipad."

The Sack Building is the one that was hit by a plane in the recent teen version of 9/11. Milton originally wanted to use the Twin Towers as an example, but since those two buildings are still intact, he had to slightly modify the example.

Flora's expression changed: "Not bad, you're starting to grow up. You've learned to make up hellish jokes based on the things you've created. Very good."

"Please, a lot of locals have already started making jokes about this..."

pat!

As the two were talking, a loud crashing sound came from not far in front of them, as if something had fallen heavily to the ground and shattered into pieces.

Flora immediately stopped smiling and quickly walked forward to see what was happening.

"It really is a human. Uh, why is there a box? What's inside? MRE? Holy crap, this kind of industrial waste is actually packaged in a box?" Flora couldn't help but complain. "I'd rather starve than eat this stuff..."

Milton waved his hand: "The government forces' food supplies were not necessarily better than the rebels' before, but now they can even eat MRE... My previous guess was right, Lopez has gained a large amount of cash flow again."

"I think our command post also needs to be on high alert. Since someone landed in this area, it means someone is airdropping in not far away..."

No sooner had he finished speaking than an urgent voice came from the command center.

Juan was getting anxious: "'Hell Tax Collector,' 'Bottle!' We've spotted a paratrooper squad landing towards command post!"

Landing towards command post?
Flora was a little puzzled: "Could it be that the government forces found the command post? If that were the case, planes would have already come to drop bombs."

“No, this means the command post is very well concealed,” Milton said, turning around. “These paratroopers choose to drop into weak points in the defensive positions. Since the command post is one of them, it means they don’t know it’s a command post. On the contrary, they think the defenses here are weak.”

Flora followed Milton inside, muttering, "But I remember those so-called weak points in the defenses have already been filled by the people we brought... Our people are surely more elite than the resistance, aren't they?"

“...That seems to be the case.” Milton couldn’t help but chuckle. “In other words, they planned to airdrop into areas with weak defenses, but unexpectedly, after just one night, these supposedly weak areas became the most heavily defended.”

"They could have spotted us, but most of their air power was used for parachute training... Is this our opponent?"

As soon as the two entered the command post, the forces responsible for defending it opened fire.

Although the defenses here may appear weak, the command post actually has the strongest defensive firepower!

Every commander is assigned a weapon here, which is also a way of expressing their determination to fight to the last moment.

At this moment, Juan and Lac had already rushed to the machine gun mount and started firing wildly into the air.

"'Hell Tax Collector,' there are two more machine guns over there!"

Without needing anyone to remind him, Milton took two steps forward, stood beneath an M2 Browning, raised the muzzle, and aimed it at the sky.

Boom boom boom!
The terrifying sound of explosions and shell casings hitting the ground filled my ears!

At this moment, Milton's "gun skill" on the panel had reached over 80, making him a sharpshooter. With just one round of fire, three more pieces of rubble fell into the sky.

Even Milton himself felt a good amount of blood spilling out.

"The flares are almost used up, prepare for the next round!"

"Roger that!"

The sky was already gradually darkening, and the figures in the sky were about to disappear back into the darkness.

Milton also stopped pulling the trigger and continuing to expose his position.

However, as soon as he loosened his grip, he saw a very conspicuous flash of fire in the sky!

Then came the crisp sound of bullets disappearing into the surrounding mud.

Instead of taking advantage of this once-in-a-lifetime window of opportunity to escape, the paratroopers still hovering in the sky opened fire and returned fire!

The muzzle flash immediately revealed his position; even a blind person could see it clearly!
Milton unhesitatingly unleashed a fan-shaped barrage of bullets at that area.

The place suddenly became very quiet, as if a noisy baby had suddenly fallen into a deep sleep.

The other paratroopers seemed to realize something as well, and finally none of them dared to fire—floating in the sky, with severely limited visibility, how could they possibly be thinking of using their small rifles to fight against machine guns and heavy machine guns?

But, it was too late.

The next round of flares has been launched into the sky, illuminating the entire night sky once again!

The first volley of fire had wiped out almost half of the paratroopers. At most, two more volleys would wipe out the enemy's airborne troops before they even landed—because they were poorly trained and, for safety reasons, they all deployed their parachutes at high altitude.

The excessive time spent in the air gave the rebel positions just as much time to fire.

Milton aimed at a target, and just as he was about to pull the trigger, his finger paused—because the target he was aiming at seemed to be making some strange movement.

He hurriedly dropped his weapon, took off his clothes and pants, spread his arms and legs wide, and twisted his body as if trying to convey some message to those below.

Flora's puzzled voice came through the earpiece: "What is this?"

Milton shot and killed another man, saying nonchalantly, "Probably trying to surrender. But their shouts can't get through, so they can only resort to some performance art like this."

"Then, shall we accept his surrender?"

“We’ll accept it, as long as he doesn’t try anything funny.” Milton’s voice was tinged with amusement. “Anyone who can become an airborne soldier in the enemy’s lineup and get their hands on a helicopter is more or less an elite. Who knows what good intelligence they might provide us? It would be a shame to just kill them like this.”

Flora was shocked: "Are you still Milton? Shouldn't you have coldly told him to throw him into the cesspool and drown him?!"

"Almost got it."

Boom boom boom…

The battle lasted only five minutes. The sky was filled with either raining blood or corpses floating in the air with their parachutes.

Looking at it this way, it actually looks a bit eerie.

Apart from the one person who was relatively bright and clearly expressed his willingness to surrender, there were no living people to be seen in the sky.

Perhaps one or two lucky ones escaped being hit, or managed to survive by hanging from a tree during their fall, but sooner or later they would be caught.

The dark muzzles of heavy machine guns and cannons were pointed at the living man, allowing him to land safely on the ground.

Milton had already picked up his 81 bar and aimed at the man who had fallen to the ground and rolled around in a sorry state.

He felt the overwhelming killing intent from all sides, and quickly raised his hands again: "Hehehe! I am a prisoner of war, I surrender, I disarm, I deserve to be treated as a prisoner of war, not have guns pointed at me by you!"

"I will not resist, I have no weapons left to resist!"

The rebels kept their faces cold, their eyes flashing with anger, but they still managed to restrain their urge to go up and beat the man up.

Juan gave the order: "Arrest them!"

Several soldiers with bloodshot eyes rushed forward, tied up the "prisoner of war," and escorted him to the command post.

To avoid revealing their location, the command post was dimly lit. The prisoner of war barely saw anything before a hood was put over his head, and he was roughly taken away.

"The rest of you should immediately clean up the battlefield and re-camouflage it before dawn. The rest of you should also prepare to move the command post to another location." "Those escaped helicopters might be able to spot our position from the air. Although it would be difficult to memorize it, bring it back, and accurately relay it in such a short time, we cannot take that risk."

"action!"

Milton looked at the fairly disciplined rebels and praised them, saying, "Your men are actually very good at combat, it's just that their equipment is holding them back."

"Have no idea……"

Juan gave a wry smile, grabbed the man, threw him into an iron cage, and turned to Milton: "You ask first. You'll be leaving soon, and we have plenty of time."

Milton didn't stand on ceremony. He pulled up a chair, sat down in front of the man, and coldly asked, "Name, identity."

While asking the questions, Milton also opened the panel and scanned the person's information.

Sure enough, it contained all five poisons.

The smuggling records include, but are not limited to, drugs, people, organs, and weapons... The "people" category alone is staggering.

Records show that just a few days earlier, he was involved in a human smuggling case involving more than 100 people. The reason he was caught was because many of these people were transferred through the port of Champellico, the port that Milton had just taken over!

This is... like they just took over a village and took everyone inside with them?

It's just like the army of an ancient feudal dynasty!

It's almost the 21st century now!
The man coughed several times before saying, "I, my name is George... Wait, you can't treat me like this. I'm a prisoner of war, and I should be treated like one, not imprisoned!"

Milton's voice was cold: "Really? You're from the 2nd Infantry Brigade of Guatemala? Tell me your unit number."

“I…” George tried to make something up, but then he stammered, “I am…”

“I don’t need you anymore.” Milton interrupted him, looking at his American citizenship, exposing his lie. “You’re a mercenary who’s paid to do things. You don’t get prisoner-of-war treatment—in other words, I can execute you anytime I want. That’s our right. That’s the price you pay for being a mercenary, understand?”

“Prisoners of war must be ‘armed personnel belonging to the nationality of one side of the conflict,’ while mercenaries, whose motivation for participating in the war is purely for money and who lack state authorization, do not meet the definition of legitimate combatants and are not entitled to prisoner of war treatment.”

"Not only can you be executed at will, you don't even have the right to demand that we grant you basic rights such as personal safety, medical care, and freedom from abuse—do you understand?!"

George might not have been unaware, but Milton was speaking to Juan and the other rebels.

After Milton leaves, there is no humanitarian risk in how he decides to deal with this person.

George, hearing the other person's unwavering certainty, realized it didn't seem like a bluff at all, and could only ask blankly, "You, how did you know?"

Milton grabbed the coffee cup from the table, filled it with hot water, and threw the cup and water at George's face: "Are you asking me questions, or am I asking you questions?"

Snap, sizzle...

George was scalded and rolled on the ground, his screams echoing throughout the command post.

"Fuck you! You..." George scrambled to his feet, shaking the shards of glass from his face. The stinging pain from the burns ignited his rage. "Fine, you want to know who I am? Well, I'll tell you!"

Milton was delighted to see the other party's attitude—it seemed like he had caught a big fish.
"Go ahead."

"I am American!"

Milton practically rolled his eyes: "Oh, an American, and then what?"

George was somewhat taken aback—even being American couldn't intimidate this man; had the rebels become this arrogant?!

We need to introduce a more serious threat.

“I am a member of the ‘Grey Wolf’ mercenary group!” George shouted. “Do you know who our mercenary group leader is? Ross. He used to work for the CIA. Do you know what the CIA is? You hillbillies, I admit defeat, but you absolutely cannot kill me, or you’ll be in for a beating!”

George knew he was doomed to be captured alive, but wars always end, and there would always be a day when prisoners of war were exchanged.

You can't go out missing an arm or a leg, can you? How can you enjoy life then?

After revealing his identity, George proudly raised his head and scanned the gloomy faces in the command room.

Although the light here is too dim to see their faces clearly, their expressions must be quite interesting, and they must be terrified.
Then he heard the man sitting in front of him, who was in charge of asking questions, speak calmly.

"My name is Milton."

George froze for a moment, his face flashing with extreme astonishment. His previous arrogance vanished, and he finally widened his eyes, trying to make out the face in the dim light.

"you……"

“My name is Milton Mings.” Milton’s tone remained calm. “You should know me.”

Bullshit!

Who the hell doesn't know you? Especially people connected to the CIA, who doesn't know Milton? People in other areas, even at headquarters, know you!

Working with the DEA, they wiped out an entire SAD special forces team with zero casualties!

They absolved themselves of all responsibility while simultaneously throwing mud at the CIA-linked drug cartel. As a result, they were apprehended on the spot by the DEA and local government, with both the perpetrators and the drugs seized. The impact of this shocking scandal shows no signs of abating.

Although Milton's spokesperson emphasized that the incident was a passive cooperation between local law enforcement and the DEA, and that they knew nothing about it beforehand, and that it would not escalate into a diplomatic incident, with the DEA handling all coordination, it's obvious to anyone that Milton is the absolute mastermind.

The local head, Eric, was urgently summoned back to the United States to face questioning from members of Congress alongside the CIA director, and some even organized protests!

It's just that this cesspool of a country is fighting to the death, which is why there's been so little news about it.

George finally realized what a foolish thing he had done—he would have been better off saying he was Santa Claus than saying he had connections with the CIA.

Milton has killed more than a dozen people even though he's a legitimate CIA agent. George is just a bit of a connection, so Milton might have some psychological burden when he kills him.
George was so stunned he couldn't speak: "I, I..."

The expressions on the faces of the other people in the room were truly fascinating, especially those of the rebels—when did Americans become so terrified by a name?
If your child is noisy and won't sleep at night, you might use the name Milton to scare them.

Milton sighed. "Stop with the 'you, me, him' stuff. I have a question for you, and I'm in a hurry. Can you answer it?"

Milton no longer needs to resort to threats to intimidate people—the enemy will be intimidated on their own.

"Yes! Yes!"

Milton nodded: "Very good... You said your commander is named Ross, a former CIA member, and still has deep ties with the CIA, is that right?"

Yes, that's right!

Milton continued, "What do you know about the CIA members stationed in Quetzaltenango?"

"I...I don't know!" George wanted to slap himself a few times over from just a few seconds ago. "Our commander might just find out..."

Damn it, what a foul mouth! He insisted on saying he knew the CIA. Now he's been targeted by some anti-CIA fanatic.

“Oh.” Milton wasn’t too disappointed. “Alright, then tell me about your Commander Ross… well, your equipment, his personality, everything you know. ‘Bottle,’ put him on a lie detector.”

As for the specifics of troop deployment and tactical practices, Milton doesn't have the time to ask the rebels.

"OK~"

“I’ll tell you everything! I promise I won’t lie a single word!” George seemed almost impatient. “That bastard Ross, we made a lot of dirty money before, and he pocketed 80% of it all, only giving us the remaining 20%. I’ve disliked him for a long time.”

"I'll let you in on a little secret, he's gay, and he likes the bottom position!"

Milton almost lost his composure and blurted out, "You fucking bastard, get to the point!"

However, Milton kept this information in mind—perhaps he would have a chance to use it to mock Ross in the future.

"Alright, alright, let's get down to business, let's get down to business..."

"..."

Milton listened to George's incessant chatter, and after seeing the information about Ross appear on the panel and become available for purchase, he nodded and looked at Juan and Lack.

"Alright, I'm heading back to my base... Lopez's entire army will be deployed soon, this is your most difficult moment."

"I hope to see your faces at the victory celebration after we win."

Lark gave Milton a military salute: "Victory will be ours—we have persevered for 34 years, and we will persevere."

Escorted by the rebels, Milton quickly arrived at the airport, boarded a plane, and flew back to Champellico under the cover of night.

Milton should rely on the panel's "battlefield cleanup" function to clear the nearby minefield within two days.

The subsequent progress will be carried out by the mine-clearing vehicle that Milton acquired.

Two days later, Brandon arrived at the command post, which had been moved twice and was no longer opposite the hospital. His face was not good as he reported, "Boss, we just received news from the front that the government forces have blew up the highway in order to delay our advance."

Milton nodded: "As expected, our infantry and armored forces have excellent cross-country capabilities, so we're not worried. At most, it will only delay us for a while."

“And…” Brandon took a deep breath, “we just received intelligence that Lopez’s army has arrived at the front lines.”

"Whether it's our actions against the Lopez Group, or the Lopez Group's actions against the rebels..."

"Now, the general offensive begins."

P.S.: Daily reading guide will be released on the 17th of next month!
(End of this chapter)