Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 273 Let's feed the seals to the seals.
Boom boom boom...

Click, click, click...

The convoy of all-terrain vehicles traveled on the rugged terrain, its speed gradually decreasing.

"'The Godfather'... They are clearly leading us to the most complex terrain. If we go any further, the car might not even be able to move."

Milton glanced at the panel and pondered for a moment—just as the soldier had said, after the M109 self-propelled guns were completely wiped out, that fly-like scout never appeared again, clearly indicating that they had begun to retreat.

Unlike the main force, which was pinned down by artillery fire and unable to move, the artillery scouts were already on the edge of the battlefield and very agile. By the time Milton caught up, they had long since disappeared from the panel's detection range.

Milton's team followed the tracks all the way, which naturally shortened the distance considerably. Coupled with their absolute advantage in physical strength and logistics, the possibility of catching up was not small... But the problem was that in such a complex environment, the risks also increased dramatically!
The seal was posing a challenge to Milton: should he continue to abandon his advantage and risk his life in the pursuit, or should he end it here and leave with a bountiful harvest?

Anyway, those six M109 guns have already been completely destroyed, so what's the harm in sending a few scouts to get them out?
Looking ahead, Ismya asked, "If we go any further, we'll have to get off and walk... Should we still chase after them?"

The two aces, "Anvil" and "Poison," also looked at Milton, their eyes filled with the same question.

Milton pushed open the car door, jumped out, and said without hesitation, "Chase them."

"The Americans probably think we've won, that we'll leave after we've gained enough spoils, and that their battle is over, like a player in a game who doesn't care about winning or losing."

"Perhaps it was because last time I let two crazy SADs go back that they had the illusion that I was very kind."

"They don't seem to understand one thing... wars can start the way they want, but they will never end the way they want."

"The fate of this enemy force is not defeat, but annihilation."

"I want to ask the Americans, do they have the steely will to come to my battlefield and face a death rate of more than half?"

This group of seals will never return!
Ismaila instinctively tightened her grip on the M82A1 anti-materiel rifle in her hand: "Then let's set off."

Milton jumped out of the car and waved his hand: "A goal is a goal, and there are ways to achieve a goal... First, put on the ghillie suit, then take the individual infrared thermal imager. Don't forget who our opponent is."

After disguising themselves, the eight-person team jumped out of the car and began heading towards their target.

Two of these eight people are frontline observation, aiming, and artillery reconnaissance personnel.

Its function is very simple—to "guide" guided projectiles!
Yes, Milton has no spirit of fair fighting. His opponent is the SEALs, even if they are cornered, they are still a top-notch elite force.

Who's going to fight special operations with them in the wild?
If anything seems amiss, precision-guided shells will rain down from the sky, giving them a taste of the wickedness of human nature.

Milton has just received another message from the rear: the "Pointer" drone in the air has discovered the destroyed enemy counter-battery radar.

Another drone can be spared from the rear to help search for enemy traces.

Having determined that the enemy's general direction would definitely be towards Solora, and with the assistance of drones, Milton quickly found a place that had been carefully cleaned up, but still left some clues.

“The tracks are fresh and extend due east.” Milton examined them carefully. “We’re less than an hour away from the enemy… Look at these stimulants, they’re definitely exhausted.”

"We must be extremely careful from now on; we could encounter the enemy any minute."

"Keep going."

"receive……"

After tracking for another 20 minutes, Ishimaya, who was walking in front, suddenly raised her hand and made a "pause" gesture with her right hand.

Listening carefully to the ambient sounds, she turned on the walkie-talkie and said in the lowest possible voice, "I've found some more traces, quite dense, and very new."

"I need to find a sniping position."

"We should be able to activate the thermal imager now and see if we can find anything else."

Everyone in the team was wearing ghillie suits, which was almost optical invisibility. As long as they didn't make too much noise, they would be very difficult to be detected.

The enemy is fleeing and is unlikely to be carrying thermal imaging equipment.

Soon, everyone had taken their positions and began searching the entire area, waiting for any movement from the enemy.

Because they were unsure if the enemy was actually there, only the artillery scout and the sniper chose to lie down; the others adopted a crouching position to facilitate slow movement.

Milton, also bored, used the thermal imager to search the surroundings in very small movements.

Suddenly, very suddenly, an orange-red heat source appeared in Milton's thermal imager.

At first, Milton thought it was some kind of wild animal... but soon, the heat source outlined a standing human figure!

His movements were subtle, as if he were holding a gun, and he took two small steps in one direction.

It looks like they've slightly changed the direction of their surveillance.

This distance is already very, very close!

Fortunately, Milton was cautious enough to minimize his movements; otherwise, it's hard to say whether he would have been discovered!
woohoo hoo...

A cool breeze blew by, causing the surrounding vegetation to sway from side to side...

Milton pondered for a moment and decided to let Ishmaya handle the task.

However, before Milton could reach for the walkie-talkie, the other person paused for a moment, seemingly looking in a certain direction, before suddenly raising the muzzle of his gun.

That direction is where the "poison" is hidden!

Exposed?!

How is this possible? The other party didn't seem to be carrying any advanced equipment... Damn, the seals are really something. If it were anyone else, they probably wouldn't even realize anything by now.

Milton was utterly shocked and instinctively wanted to fire back.

Now that we've been exposed, there's no point in thinking about it anymore. Hiding is pointless now; eliminating the enemy immediately is the most important thing to do.

Milton reacted extremely quickly, aiming the muzzle of his 81-bar gun at the enemy's torso before the enemy could even finish raising his hand.

click!
But before Milton could pull the trigger, a clearly silenced gunshot rang out, and a 12.7mm bullet flew out, piercing through all his defenses without any obstruction.

The high-speed spinning bullet tore apart a large amount of flesh and bone, creating a hole six or seven centimeters in diameter!

The powerful kinetic energy even pulled him backward a little!
Ishimaya also spotted the enemy and opened fire immediately...

Almost simultaneously, from a considerable distance from the dead seal, came the fierce gunfire of an M16A1, sweeping towards Ishimaya.

Soon, a fierce field battle began.

Milton hasn't revealed his location yet; he's pondering what went wrong that caused their position to be exposed...

After a quick review, Milton suddenly remembered a detail.

wind.

Just as the location of the "poison" was exposed, a gust of wind blew in.

In windy environments, vegetation sways in sync with the surroundings, and when a person stands or crouches to remain silent and hidden, their upper body will rise and fall slightly due to breathing. Even if the ghillie suit is the same color as the environment, experienced combat personnel can still detect a slight inconsistency and an anomaly.

This one anomaly was enough for them.

Coincidentally, "Poison" is a combat unit that adopts a crouching posture rather than a prone posture!
After figuring it out, Milton cursed inwardly, "These guys are truly elite! They're so cautious and professional, it's almost frightening."

"That's fucking insane... I'm not fighting anymore."

It wasn't that they couldn't win, but Milton felt that if the other side had that kind of strength, then their side was likely to suffer casualties.

Milton brought along his own elites, several of whom were veterans who had been with him since the early days of the business. Milton didn't want to lose any of them.

Milton immediately shifted to a prone position, concealed behind the reverse slope, and took out his walkie-talkie to give orders to the two scouts.

"Call in artillery fire! Let these seals eat the shells! Get the artillery coming and send them all flying!"

"Yes!"

Flora, who had taken over supreme command, muttered from the side, "More cannonballs blowing things up into the sky. You might as well switch to 'Milton manned spaceflight'..."

"Stop talking nonsense and get the hell out of here."

"Target location confirmed, firing data calculated."

"..."

"The shelling will arrive in 25 seconds. Take cover."

Milton added, "This round of shelling may not eliminate all targets... but we have confirmed that the enemy is hiding here. Send drones over to monitor them from the air, and once any movement is detected, immediately launch a large-scale artillery barrage!"

"Roger that!"

Boom boom boom!
As soon as the words were spoken, the battlefield, which had been fiercely fighting and filled with the sounds of gunfire, was instantly engulfed by artillery shells.

The guided shells landed precisely on the seals' heads!

The most accurate one had an error of less than 1 meter, and it was completely swallowed by the bullseye!
The SEALs are indeed very elite. In this field environment, they basically fire and run, each shot posing a significant threat. Moreover, they move very quickly and quietly, deliberately avoiding their own heat sources. They fire while retreating, and they are even able to maintain a slight advantage over their own side.

But all of this became nothing more than children playing house in the face of the bombardment from large-caliber howitzers.

This is why even the most elite special forces have no chance of winning against regular troops.

Faced with overwhelming firepower and information superiority, any advantage will be wiped out by sheer force.

Boom boom boom!
Within the blast radius, all vegetation and all life were instantly carbonized!
The seal that unfortunately ended up in the epicenter was completely "erased" of all traces.

After the heavy artillery bombardment, the gunfire ceased. At this point, the "Pointer" drone was hovering low in the air without any fear of being exposed, frantically searching for any enemy who might have survived the shelling.

"Search for the enemy's location and prepare for the next round of shelling."

"Until all enemies are destroyed."

Milton had seen everyone on the panel beforehand and carefully noted the number of red dots to ensure that not a single one was missed.

Just as Milton had completely retreated to a safe place and was preparing for the next round of shelling, a voice suddenly came through the walkie-talkie.

“Reporting to ‘The Godfather’! Two men have come out, unarmed, with their hands raised.”

Should we attack?

“Capture them alive if they’re alive,” Milton thought for a moment. “Make sure they don’t try anything funny, and check the battlefield, count the bodies, and don’t let a single one escape.”

"Yes!"

After the main reinforcement force arrived, the two surrendered SEALs were immediately captured, imprisoned in an armored vehicle, and escorted back to the camp.

"'Godfather,' the bodies have been counted, and all are accounted for. Only these two targets remain alive!"

"Also, at the first battle site, next to the seal that was killed by a sniper rifle, we found a rather strange piece of equipment. Take a look."

Milton immediately became interested—every SAD operation would send Milton some high-tech equipment for individual soldiers. If it weren't for the prohibition, Milton would have loved to find a way to give them a 'transportation prize'.

Now that it's the seals' turn to get taken down, they're being so polite, even giving them equipment?
"Let me take a look... You're lucky. If we had covered that area with artillery shells, this equipment would probably be gone."

The kind of panel that can't be repaired either.

Soon, a device with a rectangular, military-green main unit and a miniature radar dish was delivered to Milton.

The soldier looked a little embarrassed: "We didn't recognize what this was. It looks like a radar, but it seems too small?"

Milton stared at the thing for a moment, then blurted out, "AN/PPS-5, man-portable surveillance and target acquisition radar, holy crap!"

This radar can detect moving targets and assess their range, azimuth, and position angle. It can detect enemies up to 3 kilometers away and moving targets such as tanks or vehicles up to 5 kilometers away. The maximum target detection range error is no more than 30 meters, and the azimuth error is no more than 1 degree!

The radar can be operated by one person. The entire set of equipment weighs 25 kilograms and the battery can provide power for 8 hours continuously!

In other words, anyone moving within 3 kilometers has a significant chance of being detected by this radar. If this thing works properly, Milton's pursuit team is very likely to be discovered... or if they are lucky, the enemy will perfectly evade them and they will not be caught.

If you're unlucky, you might get ambushed.

A wave of fear washed over Milton, and he quickly went up to check the thing.

Sure enough, after intense combat, the radar had completely shut down due to battery depletion—the information disadvantage of this artillery reconnaissance team forced them to keep it running at high intensity to capture all useful intelligence and make up for the information disadvantage as much as possible.

Counter-battery radar and individual soldier surveillance radar are both power-hungry devices.

After jettisoning the vehicle, the radar failed to function for long before shutting down completely...

"Poison" rubbed his stomach as he walked up—a 5.56mm bullet had just hit his bulletproof plate, but the level 4 plate easily stopped the bullet, causing only a slight pain.

"Boss, this isn't luck... It's the various pressures and information suppressions you exerted that forced them to consume power like crazy, which led to them running out of electricity when they were at their wits' end. This was inevitable, not a matter of probability."

"It was luck that I was shot while inserting the plate."

Milton glanced at him and nodded, saying, "Yes, it seems you can improve."

"Hahaha!!!"

“Let’s go back and ask our prisoners of war who they are… SEALs? Or SEAL Devgru? Or Rangers?”

Twenty minutes later, Milton arrived at the makeshift prison in the military camp.

The conditions here are terrible; the interrogation room smells musty. The two white men have been separated and held in isolation, very far apart.

Milton waved his hand, signaling for one of them to be brought in.

The seal had already undergone the first round of interrogation and readily provided some routine intelligence, but both of them unanimously requested to see Milton, claiming that there were some things they could only say to Milton.

Milton was quite happy to see such stubborn people make a fuss, so he readily agreed.

The white man looked very relaxed and even said casually, "I knew it. How could your people be like Superman? Turns out they have PDAs. Just how much stuff have those idiots in the CIA been sending you?"

The seal, who had been frustrated and confused for so long, has finally found peace.

It wasn't that Milton trained a group of superheroes who could easily defeat them; rather, it was due to external assistance.

Milton gave him a cold look: "I'm not here to chat with you... So, Seal or Ranger?"

This information had already been obtained during the first interrogation, but Milton hadn't had a chance to look at it yet. He was also somewhat interested in the enemy's identity, so he asked again.

“Seals, but not Devgru.” The white man shrugged. “You don’t need to overanalyze this. Our arrival is just to give you a reminder.”

Milton asked casually, "A reminder? Using an M109 to fire a high-explosive shell to remind me it's time to get up? Do you think I have a good temper?"

“…‘Hell Tax Collector,’ I’ve noticed you still haven’t figured things out.” The seal shrugged. “Let me make it clear, I’ll confess everything, no need to torture me.”

"We want to remind you that you've gone too far."

Milton replied calmly, "Whether it's excessive or not is not up to the Americans to decide."

“Ha…you completely misunderstand the nature of this matter.” The seal shook its head. “You know what? Nobody cares what the president of this country is called. Whether it’s Arsu or Milton, or McDonald’s or Burger King, nobody cares, nobody cares!”

"However, you already possess the potential to seize power, and you are already taking action."

"But not even a single gesture of support for the United States. Do you think that's appropriate?"

"..."

He was still talking non-stop when a high-ranking intelligence officer walked in through the door.

Milton raised his hand to silence the seal and signaled for the intelligence officer to speak.

"'The Godfather,' we have concrete information about our informant who died in Solora some time ago."

“Terrorism spread rapidly in the area, and she was killed by her own children.”

Milton raised his eyes but didn't say anything.

The intelligence officer continued, “She was eventually locked inside the bronze bull… Many people, including children, went up and set it on fire, and recorded the incident. One of our informants couldn’t withstand the pressure and fear of death and chose to flee to us… You can take a look when you have time.”

"...I won't bother you any longer."

The intelligence officers left.

Milton looked at the blood-stained videotape in his hand, then glanced at the American in front of him who seemed completely unconcerned and could even chat with him as if he would never be punished no matter what he did.

He suddenly lost all interest in interrogation.

The seal, oblivious to Milton's change in attitude, took a sip of water from the table and asked, "Is it over? Can I continue?"

Milton looked at him and calmly asked, "I have a bad memory. Answer my question again. Who are you, a seal or a ranger?"

"Huh?" The man was taken aback. "A seal..."

Milton quickly interrupted, "How do you prove it?"

The man looked bewildered: "Don't you know that seals don't carry any identification items with them when they're on these kinds of missions? Isn't that common sense?"

He cannot prove it, and the United States will not recognize it.

“So you’re not a seal, you’re just a mercenary not protected by the Geneva Conventions,” Milton said coldly.

"and many more!"

Milton stood up, pulled out a stack of parking tickets from beside him, and asked, "Do you have any money?"

“I have it, but I can’t come up with it right now… You need money? Then I need to contact the outside world first…”

“No money? Then don’t bother.” Milton waved his hand, turned to look outside, and said, “Someone come here.”

A soldier quickly approached, saluted solemnly, his eyes filled with deep reverence, and said, "'Godfather'!"

After the first emergency interrogation, rumors that did not involve classified information spread at an alarming rate within this semi-informed unit.

Everyone knows that "The Godfather" personally took to the field and engaged in an artillery battle with "active-duty U.S. troops"!
That is the most powerful army in the world, bar none.

The final result was that the enemy was completely annihilated and the "Godfather" won a great victory—not just a victory, but a complete victory!
In the eyes of many soldiers, this was already a "miracle".

Wherever the "Hell Tax Collector" goes, even active-duty U.S. military personnel have to bow down!

The morale of the entire army soared, and upon hearing the news, the soldiers at the front lines immediately charged towards the enemy lines like madmen.

Milton looked at the soldier and got goosebumps all over. He quickly ordered, "Go and contact the zoo in Quetzaltenango for me. Hurry up and get the zoo director on the phone."

The soldier's admiration instantly turned to bewilderment: "Huh?"

Milton slowly began, “Tell them I have two seals that are behind on their taxes, but they can use themselves as animal feed to pay off those taxes. Ask the zoo if they want them.”

"Perfect timing, I've never seen what it's like for a seal to eat another seal."

(End of this chapter)