Working as a police officer in Mexico

Chapter 116 We lost two people in your camp!

Alejandro, of course, hadn't made the call.

How impolite.

And from such a distance, who would send him shit.

"Sonora State has already dispatched troops to the border area, and official documents have also denounced us as murderers."

"Public opinion relies on someone's word, don't we have lots of refugees coming over? Start a show, let them go on one by one to speak out and expose the conditions in Sonora State. Everyone can cry, can't they?"

"What matters on the battlefield is firepower. Just wait till I park the cannons at the doorstep of their TV stations; all they could do will be to cheer!"

Victor tossed away his nail clippers and blew off the shavings from his hand, "Give a TV address, we condemn the collusion between the Sonora State government and drug traffickers and lower our flags to half-staff across the state to mourn for the lives lost."

Alejandro wasn't yet a mature politician.

How does that saying go?

Politicians don't love their people; they love the microphone.

But he was a man of delicate thoughts, lowering his voice, "I've discovered that several major families from Baja California might also be stirring things up from behind the scenes."

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"They sent people to me, hoping to increase their say in government institutions, and moreover, they wish for no changes to happen in the state-owned enterprises."

In Mexico now, it could be said that the country was brimming with compradors.

In other words, the major families controlling the economic lifeline were sucking the marrow out of everything, hogging the rice bin and gobbling up rice enough for hundreds of millions of people all by themselves.

If they weren't in cahoots with drug traffickers, Victor would eat shit standing on his head. Maybe they wouldn't dare confront them head-on, but they were always up to little tricks in the shadows.

There were even rumors that several officials, who had stood up to announce drug bans, met their deaths because of these families.

"They wanted to hold some positions in the Counter-Terrorism Mobile Unit but were rejected by me," Alejandro said, sparking Victor's interest. Sitting up straighter and smiling, he said, "Is that so? They wanted to meddle with the police force?"

Alejandro shivered.

"Perhaps it's time for their blind eyes to be opened wide, to let them see who the real master is."

"What do you plan to do?"

Victor was silent for a moment, narrowing his eyes, "Do you think we might need an intelligence agency?"

...

"This conduct is disgraceful! Which country's government forces in the world would collude with drug traffickers to kill their own civilians? I have a few photos from the scene right here, showing clearly the government forces in military attire greeting the drug traffickers, and they are very friendly! Since when can justice consort with evil?

The Baja California government does not agree, millions of people do not agree, and justice does not agree!"

On television, a news spokesperson for Mexicali's security department was shouting fervently.

At the border of Sonora State, within the 36th Battalion.

Battalion Commander Mark Antonio Barela, Major, laughed at the fervor being displayed on the television.

Civilians?

Do they have a voice in Mexico?

They're just walking "Peso".

Drug traffickers can extort from them, so can the military. It once happened in Nuevo Laredo, a northwestern city close to the United States border, where five locals went to work in town and were stopped by Mexican soldiers on their way home, demanding a protection fee.

That's right, a protection fee.

And they refused since they didn't make much money from a hard day's work.

The soldiers opened fire and killed them!

Their bodies were covered up with the help of local drug traffickers, and it was only when their families realized they hadn't returned home that they found their decomposing corpses seven days later on a small hillside.

This was just one example, but it adequately demonstrates the point.

For Mexican civilians, sometimes death is a form of release.

"Commander, commander, people from Baja California are here!" a duty soldier ran in shouting at the entrance, "Right at the gate."

Major Barela immediately stood up, "Let's go, take a look!"

When he anxiously reached the camp entrance, he saw about twenty Baja California police officers outside, with the gun barrels on their Humvees pointing his way and some even carrying rocket launchers.

His own men cowered behind cover, afraid, which made Major Barela feel disgraced.

"Get up, all of you get up! What are you holding in your hands, firewood? What are you afraid of!"

Major Barela went up and kicked the closest officer, who let out a clang as his rifle hit the ground and a few US dollars fell from his embrace. The latter hurriedly scrambled to his feet and stuffed the money into his pocket with an embarrassed smile.

That money was from the drug traffickers.

You could still smell the stench of drugs on it!

Major Barela had a dark expression on his face, but he was also afraid of being shot in the back, so he took a megaphone from the hands of an orderly. "What the hell are you doing!"

"We have two police officers missing on your side, and we demand to search!"

"????"

Upon hearing this, Major Barela was dumbfounded. They were lost, what did that have to do with me, am I a GPS? (which was put to use in 1964).

He dismissed them irritably with a wave of his hand, "Roll back, there's no one you're looking for here."

The police chief from Baja California turned to look at the officers behind him. "Have you marked it out?"

The latter was marking positions on an accurate map, reporting to the rear through the carried AN/PRC-88 personal radio, and gestured towards the police chief.

"Move, let's pull out!" The police chief and his men ran without leaving behind a single word.

This left Major Barela a bit baffled.

Hey, my reputation is that big? Or is it my aura so powerful that after scolding them, they just left? Looks like those from Baja California are all cowards.

"Commanding officer, you are so formidable, none of them dared to talk back," the officer who was kicked came over to bootlick. Although Major Barela found it strange and couldn't figure it out, hearing his subordinate's words, he couldn't help but crack a smile.

...

Meanwhile, ten kilometers away in an open field,

neatly arranged were A-19 howitzers, with dozens of police officers crouching behind them. Receiving the marked location from the front, the commander hastily got them into position.

A total of 21 A-19 howitzers, attached to the Mexicali garrison of Baja California, were now simply "borrowed" for use.

"Target east 0-70. Close to 23! Ready!"

"Fire!"

After the command from the commander, he quickly covered his ears with his right hand.

bengbengb~

The A-19 howitzers, born in 1927, were still strong in 1990, their recoil shaking the ground three times.

The shells flew towards their destination like arrows released from their bows!

This thing, you just have to give an approximate, anyway, the lethality of the shells is within a radius.

122mm caliber!

Enough to clear all the surrounding trees and such.

Just as Major Barela returned to the board house and was about to take a nap, a whistling noise screeched in his ears. It was very harsh.

The Mexican Army had not been in combat for a long time, and there were no drills either, so naturally, they did not recognize this as the sound of a shell whistling.

While he was bewildered, a shell happened to smash down right under his board house.

And landed just 2 meters in front of him.

Boom...

Major Barela's eyes bulged as he was instantly blown away by the blast, his body torn apart!

The 36th Battalion faced catastrophic destruction!

The entire garrison was blown to bits.

The trees within the vicinity suffered the same fate, cut down at the waist.

Such heavy firepower directly created a barren clearing.

Meanwhile, 2 kilometers away from the 36th Battalion was where the drug traffickers were gathering. Many heard the commotion and quickly ran out to witness the billowing smoke and the sounds of explosions nearby.

"Quick, contact Barela! Ask him what happened," the drug lord demanded, his face ashen.

But if anyone answered that call, it would turn into a horror movie.

...