Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 312 Stop the presidential plane for me!
Tagu River, north bank.

Inside the headquarters of the Northern Group of warlords and the Honduran mercenary coalition, Nelson listened to his adjutant's report, looked at the scene before him, and revealed a deep sense of bewilderment in his eyes.

When the "gunships" appeared in the sky and launched their first attack on the ground, the morale of the entire army collapsed at an alarming rate.

Even he himself couldn't help but feel a deep-seated fear when he looked up at the sky.

Even though they knew that as long as they didn't make any big moves, the "gunship" might not be able to see them, the problem was that there was this thing constantly hovering overhead. Every time they moved, they had to worry about a big piece of iron falling from the sky. What was even more terrifying was that no cover was useful unless they hid underground!

Every shot could lead to death, and every action could result in an unavoidable attack. This is the suppressive effect of "gunships" on the battlefield—their power may not be as high as heavy artillery, but the pressure they bring to the enemy is astonishing!

The power of these "noob-slaying" tools to suppress "noobs" is truly immense.

And this was indeed the case. The soldiers found that the more "heroic" they were, the more likely they were to be targeted by "gunships." On the contrary, if they fired a few shots, they would not be considered a primary target and would only be bombarded by 155mm or even mortars.

155 is just as terrifying, but at least it doesn't come as fast, giving you some time to escape.

This led to a situation where, under the tyranny of the supervisory teams, the Allied soldiers were indeed fighting, but each had their own agenda. They would only fire their guns if they could, and they would fire as few shots as possible, not even a single extra bullet.

Even the supervisory team itself was somewhat hesitant, because the "gunship" had proven countless times that they didn't care about supervisory teams or not; as long as the firepower came, it would be a direct hit.

However, it's not so easy for the supervisory team, which lacks firepower, to control soldiers who don't want to fight in the first place.

Once a large number of deserters appear, morale will begin to collapse like a snowball – even after the tanks have landed and the gunships have turned back to replenish ammunition, Nelson found that the soldiers' morale could never be restored.

He kept receiving reports that many soldiers, after being captured, were reorganized on the spot, became Milton's men, and turned against them.

The disastrous consequences of abusing supervisory teams and using fear to threaten soldiers into fighting are becoming increasingly apparent at this time.

Nelson has already tasted the consequences, but he is desperate to find that he seems to have no way to deal with this situation.

He took a deep breath and looked up at the sky again—the planes roaring on the battlefield now were all attack aircraft like the A37 and Su-25, which were relatively fast and had relatively limited firepower, so they didn't pose much of a threat to them, who were fleeing.

“We have to retreat…” Nelson said, glancing at the map again. “Have you planned the evacuation route?”

As the commander, he could already see that the army had little room to escape.

Needless to say, to the south and west were Milton's madman's massive army; fleeing there was practically like delivering takeout... while to the west and north were towering mountains.

Running directly east towards Honduras was no longer an option. Milton's army had already taken advantage of their superior position and started moving east along the river, aiming to trap all the enemies in their trap...

With the enemy to the south, the only possible direction for survival is the north, or at most, the north that is slightly to the east.

The Allied forces were forced to the other side of the river, which was a hasty move. They had simply found the most convenient natural barrier to block the approaching enemy.

There will be endless troubles!

Not every army can fight a "do-or-die" battle; the vast majority of armies that do so drown.

The adjutant glanced furtively at the situation outside and began to panic: "Where are we going to escape to?"

Helicopters were no longer an option, as air superiority was completely controlled by Milton's forces. Moreover, the enemy had countless man-portable air defense systems and numerous self-propelled anti-aircraft guns that were crossing the Tagu River alongside tanks. At this point, boarding a helicopter would only have one consequence.

Given Milton's treacherous and ruthless nature, he might very well create a huge poster about the helicopter crash, add some background music, and distribute it everywhere for free, making sure Nelson never has a moment's peace.

"Let's flee north..." the adjutant hesitated. "Although it's all mountains, we should be able to escape. But all our troops are probably..."

Once their ranks are broken up, Milton can kill these soldiers as easily as catching chickens—not to mention that some will definitely choose to surrender.

"Forget about the soldiers, survival is the priority." Nelson sighed, glancing up at his adjutant's hand. "Hmm, north... wait, isn't this place a bit too close to the province of Vevetenango?!"

As a typical wasteland, after López's defeat and death, the Guatemalan National Army did not choose to take over this poor and backward region where they could not make money and had to spend money to manage it. Instead, they directly handed over the entire Huevetenango Province. Taking over the capital of a province does not always mean the fall of the entire province, but that's what the government army did.

Now, as Nelson was about to flee, he suddenly realized that Milton had occupied that area for a long time—those damned Mayans, who had been beaten to the point of being reduced to eating dirt, would not give up this land, even though it was extremely poor.

If they fled north, how could they, who didn't even know the way, escape from those guerrillas who had been fighting against organized regular armies for decades?
“No way.” Nelson shook his head violently. “Milton has already completely occupied that area. Going there would just mean being captured by the Maya and taken to Vevetnango, just to die in another place.”

"Then, where is there any way to survive?"

“Northeast!” Nelson gritted his teeth. “That’s the territory of the Ubiko family. They’re still neutral, their army is still relatively well-equipped, and there’s fierce infighting among them! There’s still a way out there.”

The adjutant hesitated: "But I heard... Eunice and Milton have been in cahoots for a long time."

“Eunice doesn’t represent her entire family. As long as we can offer enough benefits… Besides, I don’t represent Guatemala. Giving them a large sum of money to let us go doesn’t mean we’re declaring war on Milton!” Nelson packed his things. “Let’s go!”

On the other side of the river, at the edge of visibility, several pontoon bridges had been erected, and a large number of tanks, and even towed artillery, were transported to the other side of the river via these pontoon bridges.

The tank units that had arrived earlier led the infantry to occupy several important positions, and the enemy's beachhead fortifications were completely secured. The only remaining force capable of inflicting some damage was the pitifully small mortar force, whose remaining fighting capacity was uncertain.

The heavy artillery units had long been completely destroyed by the "gunships".

However, Nelson still needed the soldiers to buy him a little more time.

"The front line can no longer be held..."

"The number of non-combat casualties exceeded the number of combat casualties..."

"Further back... there's a batch of rocket launchers, part of my guard unit. Have them fire all their ammunition at Milton's beachhead!"

These rocket launchers were few in number and crudely made. The reason they had not been used in the battle was that they were one of Nelson's escape plans after defeat.

Nelson glanced at the beachhead again and found that the enemy forces had mostly dispersed, setting up positions along the riverbank in a crisscross pattern, with their numbers not dense. The crossing wasn't entirely by pontoon bridges either; assault boats were also transporting soldiers and supplies across one boat at a time.

Rocket artillery alone may not be enough to contain the enemy.

Nelson had a flash of inspiration; his strong military talent led him to come up with a good idea at that moment.

“Look where I’m pointing!” Nelson said. “There, the enemy hasn’t fully established their beachhead yet. They don’t have enough resources to defend an unimportant place.”

The adjutant didn't quite understand: "We already have insufficient troops, are we really going to attack such an unimportant place?"

“You don’t understand!” Nelson sneered. “There’s a promising sandbar in that area. We need to find a way to get our main force into that area. Once we get in, it won’t be so easy for us to get out again. After all, our main force’s flanks are all enemy forces, aren’t they?”

"Then, how do we boost their morale?"

“It’s simple, lie.” Nelson was no longer bothered by the so-called main force losses. At this point, the main force was nothing more than higher-level cannon fodder. “Tell them that the Honduran air force has taken off and fighter jets are coming to the battlefield soon. As long as they hold on, Milton’s offensive will be broken. Once they open fire and show resistance, the enemy will no longer accept their surrender.”

In other words, even if all of this gathered, the final main force later realized that the planes returning was a lie, they would still have no way to surrender.

“Alright!” the adjutant nodded. “I’ll give them the orders…”

Nelson glanced one last time at the river, then at Milton's mechanized brigade of hundreds of armored vehicles, before turning and leaving.

Soon after, the order reached the ears of all the junior officers.

Behind Nelson, a unit rekindled with hope took up its strongest weapons and donned its best equipment, officially launching a "counter-offensive".

From Nelson's perspective, this counter-attack team looked "slow and leisurely," not even running at full speed, completely incomparable to the enemy's reckless speed... But, to him, this was already a sign of high morale.

The last 500 main force of the allied forces, unaware of the danger, charged into a deadly place.

It seems that Milton's commander couldn't have imagined that at this critical moment, the Allied forces would commit their last main force to a less important battlefield, exposed to fire from three sides, with no ships ahead, being surrounded if they stayed, and performing a performance art if they went behind. That delta sandbar was actually successfully breached!

Before the coalition forces could even celebrate, they discovered that gunfire was coming from all directions—including from the sky, where a Su-25 flew in quickly and swooped down on the ground.

With no natural defenses, the allied forces fell in droves, turning this small area into a meat grinder in an instant.

In just over a minute, a full 100 people had been killed!
A fierce battle broke out and could no longer be stopped. Enraged Pan Madre Group soldiers poured fire on the delta, forcing even those who did not want to fight to the bitter end.

Everyone knows that to survive, you have to let others die.

But... even knowing this principle, the speed at which lives are harvested is far too fast, exceeding the threshold of human reason!
Boom boom boom…

The attack on the flank and the huge casualties in a short time terrified a squad leader. He crawled and scrambled to the radio station—he wanted to call for help!
If this continues, not even 500 people, let alone 5000, will be enough to kill!
"..."

Nelson, who hadn't gone far, heard a very faint sound on the radio.

"Requesting backup! The enemy's firepower is too intense, we can't hold out!"

"We have lost at least 120 people!"

“Those conscripts are fucking reckless…no, Milton’s men are reckless too. I saw the sergeant charging ahead with my own eyes. These lunatics!”

Nelson listened in silence, mentally calculating the time needed for the team to be completely wiped out, and coldly said, "Air support will arrive in 3 minutes. Hold on... You are national heroes!"

After saying that, Nelson threw the radio on the ground and walked away without looking back.

"Ha... Why are those conscripts so disobedient here? What did Milton promise them that would make them so reckless? Those damned bastards."

"Who knows? It's definitely something we can't afford to give."

"..."

……

At this moment, at Quetzaltenango Airport.

The AC-130 was parked not far away, and ground crew were replenishing ammunition and fuel as quickly as possible.

Not far away, an officer was reporting the battle situation to Milton.

"'Godfather,' the situation on the eastern front has been basically secured... Those conscripts who surrendered to you are inexplicably very high in morale. Some even carried explosives and wanted to die with the enemy's position. In the end, his squad leader pulled him back and told him that we are different from the government forces. We have planes and heavy artillery. We can just make a call over the radio. We don't need to carry explosives."

"Annihilate or incorporate the enemy forces as much as possible, and don't give them a chance to regroup." Milton nodded slightly. "How about the Western Front? Let's send the next round of AC-130 support there."

Brandon led the army to block the offensive from Guatemala City, and as the defender, he was under greater pressure.

"The higher-ups seem to be intentionally withdrawing, but the lower-ranking soldiers are unaware that they have no hope of victory. Before long, you will have the Guatemalan presidential palace under your feet! The entire country will be your spoils!"

“Very good.” Milton nodded and walked outside.

"'Godfather,' aren't you going to personally control AC-130 this time?"

“Leave it to someone else, I have more important things to do…” Milton paused slightly and chuckled. “I know, our esteemed President, Mr. Arsu, must be very flustered right now and want to escape, right? He’s blocked in all directions now, the only way he can run is through the sky.”

"I need to know his escape plan."

"I'm going to stop his private jet."

(End of this chapter)