Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 271 Are Americans no good?

"Take me to the heavy artillery company; I want to command it myself."

A hint of surprise flashed across the other soldiers' faces: "'Godfather,' you're going there in person?"

“Yes.” Milton glanced at the panel and leveled up all the available artillery skills. “I’ll lead the team… Pass on my orders to have the reconnaissance squad release ‘Pointer’ drones without interruption, targeting the area just detected by the counter-battery radar.”

"I need the most accurate 'location information'."

The soldiers then realized the seriousness of the situation.

That artillery unit is definitely not simple; the "Godfather" himself has to take charge.

"……receive!"

“‘Bottle,’ you are temporarily in command.”

Flora readily agreed: "OK!"

Milton said nothing more, boarded the command vehicle, and sped off towards the self-propelled artillery unit that was also moving at high speed.

While en route, the reconnaissance team finally provided the location information of the enemy's artillery positions.

Milton had the exact same idea. They were also deployed in a dispersed manner, moved at high speed, were highly disciplined, and had an extremely high hit rate, which was definitely not comparable to Arsu's ragtag troops.

It should be noted that older models of the M109 self-propelled howitzer cannot use the M982 Excalibur guided projectile.

Due to incompatible fire control systems, different underlying logic of firing mechanisms, etc., only the M109A6 self-propelled howitzer could use the "Divine Sword".

However, the enemy's artillery fire was extremely accurate; it was impossible for non-elite troops to achieve such a high level of accuracy in such a short time.

Milton soon arrived at his destination.

The heavy artillery company commander got out of the vehicle somewhat nervously and saluted: "'Godfather'..."

Milton raised his hand: "Don't talk nonsense on the battlefield... We just shot down an enemy drone, but it didn't significantly affect the enemy's artillery fire."

"Or rather, it did not affect that artillery unit that could react at high speed."

In reality, Milton's frontline assault troops had already been shelled, but intelligence reports from the front indicated that much of the shelling was more like a "carpet bombing" of an area.

In other words, the enemy's artillery reconnaissance obtained a lot of accurate information, but the enemy artillery was unable to make accurate use of this information and was unable to accurately strike Milton's elite troops with artillery fire.

Modern artillery reconnaissance, outdated artillery.

At least one thing is certain: the Americans' deployment here is still somewhat secretive. They have only deployed a small elite force, and there has been no large-scale "resurrection" of troops.

The company commander nodded: "What should we do? Eliminate their artillery reconnaissance?"

Milton immediately rejected the idea: "They are too difficult to capture. They are highly elite and possess the most advanced individual equipment on Earth today. It would be very difficult for us to capture them in the dark, and it might even lead to unknown risks."

"Just maintain pressure—first, suppress the nearby high ground that can see our positions with artillery fire."

Solora is situated in a group of volcanoes, and its terrain is quite complex, but there are only a few places where Milton's position can be seen.

The company commander sensed the urgency of "The Godfather" and took a deep breath: "Let's attack the enemy's artillery positions immediately and engage them in battle!"

“No,” Milton rejected again. “We will ignore this artillery unit for now and use our information advantage to bomb other high-value enemy targets.”

“We have drones, we are the offensive side, and we can shell many high-value targets to help the front line break through the second line of defense more quickly.”

"They can only rely on traditional artillery reconnaissance, and they only have two options. First, like us, they pretend they can't see each other and attack each other's high-value targets... But we are the attackers, we are moving dynamically, and with our information advantage, their results will be significantly less than ours, until they run out of shells."

"Secondly, they will desperately counterattack us, but as long as we move quickly and irregularly enough, they will not be able to achieve any results."

"Ignore them and focus all our efforts on supporting the front lines. Break through their second line of defense as quickly as possible, advance directly on their towed artillery positions, and compress the enemy's self-propelled artillery maneuvering space."

The retreat of the defensive line means that the towed artillery positions, which were originally in a safe range, begin to become unsafe, which means that the towed artillery must also retreat along with the defensive line.

The company commander paused for a moment, then pointed out a problem: "What you said is correct... but it seems that this still won't be able to wipe out their self-propelled heavy artillery company. Moreover, if we speed up the attack, our losses and consumption will increase."

This raid was originally only meant to last three or four days. If the losses were to increase further, the logistics would be able to sustain it for even less time.

“What I need to do is put pressure on them and draw the enemy’s attention,” Milton said, feeling the jolt of his seat. “Their first two lines of defense are indeed weak, but they certainly don’t expect them to be breached in one night… If we can break through them in one night, the deterrent effect on the enemy’s middle and lower ranks will still be very strong. I want to test Arsu’s command and see what their decision-making is like under pressure.”

"At the same time, actions that reduce the survivability of enemy self-propelled artillery will also put direct pressure on this artillery unit."

"When all the pressures of information disadvantage, inability to achieve results, frequent 'good news' from the rear, and shrinking living space begin to converge, the possibility of the enemy making mistakes will increase sharply."

"They might malfunction, they might have to start taking some risks, or they might make mistakes in thinking about tactics due to time constraints... In short, as long as they have more than 2 minutes to withdraw after the shelling for any of these reasons, our opportunity will come."

"Everything I've done is for this goal."

“In war, mistakes are inevitable and errors are bound to happen. As long as the enemy can be mobilized, they will inevitably expose their problems under high pressure and frequent operations, and even internal conflicts will break out.”

The company commander stood at attention and said, "I understand."

"..."

……

Boom boom boom...

Solora's second defensive line, a hidden fortress equipped with recoilless rifles and various heavy machine guns, was directly hit by a series of shells falling from the sky. The huge fireball sent the entire position and the defending soldiers into the air.

The 2S5 self-propelled howitzer, located 20 kilometers away, delivered its firepower with pinpoint accuracy.

The shockwave nearly cleaved the entire jungle in half. The trees, which were originally harmless, instantly turned into burning charcoal, which collided and flew throughout the forest. Many soldiers who were very close to the epicenter were thrown directly onto tree trunks, their stomachs pierced through, and they were left hanging there.

Regular troops, who have always fought counterinsurgency wars and guerrilla warfare, have never seen such a brutal scene, nor have they ever experienced a major war with shells flying overhead and such heavy casualties.
A newly enlisted soldier forgot even his instinct to run away. He lay trembling on the ground, covering his ears, and it took him several dozen seconds to finally come to his senses.

Amidst the intense ringing in his ears, several desperate cries, such as "Run!" and "The tax collectors of hell will destroy everything!" rang out. The recruit instinctively turned his head and saw several soldiers whose morale had been completely shattered by the shelling, dropping their weapons and running away.

Even the platoon leader, who was wearing a soft bulletproof vest and a helmet, led the way in "retreating".

Just as the recruit was considering whether he should get up and run away, several mortar shells fell without warning, covering the entire escape route!

The platoon leader, bathed in bright light, abruptly stopped in his tracks. His Kevlar bulletproof vest and other clothing vanished in an instant.

Then, it was as if countless meat grinders in the air were shredding the platoon leader into fine pieces.

Minced meat sprayed in all directions, and something that looked like bone fragments flew by, cutting the recruit's lips and getting stuck in his teeth.

The brutality of the front-line battlefield finally made the recruit vomit. He almost vomited up his bile before he staggered to his feet and frantically fled backward, stepping on the bones of his comrades and the still-warm earth.

This is the battlefield...

He could already hear the roar of the tank engine.

After running for an unknown amount of time, the recruit lost his footing, stumbled, and fell into a pit about 1.2 meters high, just above his waist.

No, that's not right.

"This isn't a pit, it's a trench?" The recruit stood up in pain, looking around. "Where... is everyone gone?"

"Who are you? State your unit number!" Just then, a sergeant with the rank of senior sergeant suddenly stepped forward with a frown. "Put your hands where I can see them."

The sergeant was carrying a lot of things and seemed to be retreating. This position, which had obviously not been attacked, looked like it was about to be abandoned.
The recruits were taken aback for a moment, then answered the sergeant's questions truthfully and reported the approximate casualties of their squad.

The sergeant didn't have the patience to listen to the whole thing. He waved his hand and said, "Alright... as long as you're one of us, that's fine. Hurry up and come with me. We need to tighten our defenses and guard the positions behind the lines. We need manpower."

"It's not safe here, let's go."

The new recruits seemed to have found their leader and quickly followed the sergeant forward. Soon, they arrived at a makeshift, camouflaged position—this position was far more sophisticated, equipped not only with recoilless rifles but also with mortars!

A jeep sped past, and the man in the passenger seat was yelling something into a walkie-talkie.

The new recruit recognized this man; he was the company commander!
"This……"

The sergeant bent over, jumped into the trench, and waved his hand: "Don't ask about the important people's affairs. You just need to know that the company commander just gave orders to hold this line. If you kill one person, you will be rewarded with 5000 qqar!"

As he spoke, the sergeant pointed behind him, where a quartermaster sat with stacks of banknotes piled up like small mountains beside him!

The recruit's eyes widened immediately: "Really?"

Although the qqar has depreciated significantly due to the economic crisis, 5000 is still not a small amount!
"Nonsense, the money's all here!" The sergeant waved his hand. "Alright, you can guard this position now."

"Yes!"

The desire for money briefly overcame the fear he had just felt. The recruit squatted in the trench, looked around at his comrades who were sitting in the pit with numb faces and refused to lift their heads, and gripped the ragtag rifle that had just been issued to him.

After a while, the new recruit peeked out and looked outside.

All the light had been destroyed, and the moonlight was insufficient to provide vision... but the flames from the explosion and fire allowed the recruit to catch a glimpse of a swaying figure for a fleeting moment.

Here's your chance to make a fortune!
Thinking back to how he had just survived a hail of bullets, the recruit felt that perhaps the battlefield possessed a magical power to favor newcomers. Without hesitation, he raised his rifle and aimed…

Boom boom boom!
The bullet flew from the muzzle, and the figure fell to the ground!
The recruit shouted excitedly, "Did you see that?! I hit that guy, at 2 o'clock! He's down!!!"

The quartermaster glanced at it, casually grabbed a bundle of money, and tossed it to the recruit.

Snapped……

The recruit picked up the banknotes that had fallen to the ground, weighed them in his hand, and shouted again, "Money! It really is money! Damn it, I can't earn this much money in six months!"

Seeing that there was real money, some soldiers were blinded by the immediate benefits, and many of them poked their heads out of the trenches and began firing at the front.

The vast majority of them were relatively young faces.

On the contrary, those familiar faces not only did not fire, but also jumped up in fear, trying to escape with their hands and feet, their eyes wide with rage, as if death was about to come.

The recruit stuffed the money into his pocket, ignoring the cowards, and poked his head out of the trench again, hoping to earn another 5000 qchar.

The firelight was the best beacon, and the recruit looked toward it once again.

The next moment, his excited expression froze on his face.

The firelight once again illuminated the enemy.

but……

Amidst the flickering flashes of the explosion, a massive, low-slung steel silhouette suddenly appeared, its entire body covered in thick armor plates blackened by gunfire, its edges sharply defined.

The tracks rolled over burning logs and scorched earth, making a terrifying sound.

The dark cannon barrel was pointing directly at the trench where the new recruits were!

"tank!"

boom!
A high-speed spinning shell flew out of the cannon barrel and hit us directly.

The recruit's body was so damaged that even the explosive fuse of the high-explosive shell could not be activated. When he was hit by the 105mm shell, only his two legs remained intact as he stood on the spot.

Of course, the others in the trench only survived a negligible few milliseconds longer than this recruit.

The explosion of the high-explosive fragmentation bomb almost swept across the entire trench.

The vast majority of those banknotes were burned to ashes...

"..."

Meanwhile, the company commander, who had already fled in his car, was cursing into the walkie-talkie: "What's wrong with those Americans? Weren't they supposed to suppress Milton's artillery? What did they suppress? Now the shells are raining down like they're free, and they've blown up my command post!"

"How dare you blame me for losing the second line of defense? The battlefield situation didn't develop as you described at all; isn't it normal that it was lost?"

"Oh, is that so? Then let's just drop it, how about that? Let me tell you, hold the line, I'll personally fund the soldiers' morale, pay them off on the spot for every kill, what more do you want from me? Haven't I tried hard enough?"

"Throwing a tantrum? No, sir, have you been tricked? Are those Americans fucking useless? They're not that much better than us, are they?"

"I don't care, I've already retired. Just inform the command post to move all the towed guns and other equipment to the back."

"..."

……

It was early morning, before the sun had risen.

The SEALs, now in control of the self-propelled artillery, were in an uproar.

The Solora coalition command is in an emergency call with them.

At this moment, Nico's face turned ashen, and he roared into the walkie-talkie, "Are we no good?! Damn it, damn it! Is this human language? If your intelligence work wasn't so terrible, and we could only rely on our pitifully small artillery reconnaissance to get local information, would we be in such a passive position?"

In a situation of one-way transparency, it was already quite an achievement for their artillery to barely manage a draw with the enemy.

As long as the second line of defense can be stabilized, and the fighting continues like this, dragging it out, Milton will be completely dumbfounded after three days.

No, even if the defenses can hold for two days, the SEALs can grit their teeth and hold on until Milton's logistics run into problems.

But the reply from the rear command was like a bolt from the blue: "It's no use. The second line of defense has fallen—this is your responsibility. According to feedback from the front, the intensity of the shelling they suffered far exceeded expectations."

Nico was furious: "That's Milton being reckless! He even moved his towed artillery positions forward! Do you know what that means? If you just hold on a little longer, just a little longer, we can inflict massive damage on their towed artillery positions!"

"Now that your lines have collapsed, we have to retreat along with you, understand? You've wasted such a good opportunity! Logically speaking, this level of artillery bombardment and assault should have held out for at least two days, but two lines collapsed in one night. Are you kidding me? Your soldiers are too weak and have no morale!"

The voice from the command post was somewhat perfunctory: "We have no choice. A company commander has already brought out a lot of cash to reward the soldiers on the spot, but we still can't hold the line—we just can't hold it."

Nico finally lost his patience: "...Well, I can't do anything about it then. I'll just report it like this."

This seemed to anger the lieutenant general, whose voice rose slightly: "Then go report it, report it to your boss, report it to the CIA, report it to the Pentagon, or just report it to Clinton."

"You set up the defenses, and you practically proposed the battle plan. Now you're saying our combat strength is too weak?"

"As a decision-maker, if you cannot make reasonable recommendations based on objective facts and in accordance with our local conditions, then you'd better not make any recommendations at all—put away your arrogance, Americans! This is Guatemala!"

The lieutenant general's words silenced Nico.

When Nico was planning, he had intentionally underestimated the combat capabilities of the Guatemalan National Defence Force, but he did not expect that their combat capabilities could be even lower.

However, Milton's army was more powerful than expected.

They had been bombarding the enemy with all their might, trying to shake the morale of Milton's army, and had achieved some good results, but the enemy was as solid as iron, and none of their actions changed.

On the contrary, Nico's SEAL team nearly got into trouble several times due to the high pressure.

"Ok."

"Now tell me your specific situation... Also, no matter what, the third line of defense must be held. If the second line of defense falls, our artillery unit is already in a very bad situation. If the third line of defense falls, and Milton reaches the lake, we will have no choice but to retreat with him."

The lieutenant general asked, "Aren't you going to retreat? Or are you going to continue fighting?"

“I can imagine the collapse at the front. If the decline is not stopped, the third line of defense may be breached by ourselves, not Milton,” Nico replied. “And your towed guns are also retreating at the same time… Without our fire support, your lines are very likely to be breached one after another, which will eventually lead to the towed guns not being in place before they have to retreat again, creating a chain reaction that will cause the entire battlefield situation to collapse.”

"We cannot back down, for if we do, we will lose—is my judgment 'objective' enough?"

The lieutenant general said in a low voice, "Very good... Americans, don't worry, we have reinforcements on their way. Milton has logistical problems, they are the ones who are anxious. The advantage is always on our side."

Forget it...

Nico muttered disdainfully to himself, "That's settled then."

O'Connor waited for the call to end before he couldn't help but say, "Boss, we're under so much pressure right now. We have to suppress Milton's self-propelled artillery, dodge counterattacks, hunt high-value targets, and hide from those special forces that are coming to capture us. And we don't have any intelligence at all... Now they're even retreating. Honestly, we're having a hard time even protecting ourselves."

After just one night of fighting, this team of seals was drenched in sweat, even in winter!

Milton not only gave them high intensity, but his mother also increased the intensity of their training from behind!

If they wanted to continue effectively shelling Milton's positions from such a frontline location, and to fill the firepower gaps left by the retreating towed guns, they would inevitably have to take some risks.

Boom boom boom...

After completing another shelling run, the M109s moved a short distance away and began retrieving shells from the supply vehicle.

One minute later, the counterattack arrived as expected, plundering the abandoned artillery positions.

Every time a seal fires, it is met with fierce retaliation; even staying in one place for too long can result in being shelled!

Several seals were so exhausted from the intense combat that they had to start taking performance-enhancing drugs.

Nico watched his men rapidly moving shells, his brow furrowed, and muttered, "Three minutes. Their counterattack speed is basically maintained at around three minutes, with the fastest being 2 minutes and 53 seconds."

“I think we can extend the shelling time slightly, from 2 minutes to 2 minutes and 15 seconds, so that we can carry out one more round of shelling.”

O'Connor placed a shell down and frowned. "Isn't this a bit risky?"

"This emergency won't last long... The large-scale fall of the frontline mortar positions and the firepower gaps caused by the retreat of the towed artillery positions will soon be filled. We are just providing as much support as possible to the frontline, delaying Milton's pursuit, preventing their retreat from turning into a rout, and buying time for the redeployment of the defenses and artillery."

"Once this period is over, we will return to a 2-minute retreat schedule."

"Their fastest counterattack time is 2 minutes and 53 seconds. Even if we retreat in 2 minutes and 15 seconds, we still have at least half a minute to leave. There is still plenty of time."

"The new plan will be implemented starting with the next round of shelling."

"Roger that!"

(End of this chapter)