Working as a police officer in Mexico

Engels led three paratroopers along a trail up the backside of a hillside, hearing the whizzing sound of machine guns.

And the shouts and curses of officers.

He suddenly felt something warm on his nose, and touching it, although he couldn't see clearly, the stickiness meant it was definitely bleeding!

He casually wiped it on his trouser leg, "Careem!"

A fierce-looking corporal, holding an M249 machine gun and wearing tactical glasses, bent over and came closer.

"You take Seir from the west side around," he said to the corporal, "Madison and I will attack from the right, the primary target is to blow up the machine-gun position!"

Corporal Careem nodded, just as he was getting up, hesitated for a moment, then asked in a low voice, "Are you okay, Lieutenant?"

Engels was startled, then patted him on the shoulder.

"Come with me, Seir." Careem called out, leading another private first class towards the west side.

Engels, along with Madison, climbed onto a large rock on the right side, where they could clearly see flames spewing forth.

He pulled out an ANM14 incendiary hand grenade!

With so many people, they had to be served a tough dish.

Victor liked to boast when he used these, but Engels threw it vigorously, and the ANM14 flew out, disappearing in the blink of an eye as the chemical reaction occurred, spewing out immense energy.

Instantly reaching 1000°!

Touch it once it's lit, and you can't shake it off.

"Ah!!! Ah!!!"

Two Foreign Legion soldiers close by were engulfed in flames, screaming as they instinctively threw themselves at others.

In shock and death, people always seek their own kind, hoping, of course, for help.

But who wouldn't be scared at the sight of a man on fire?

They could only watch helplessly as he embraced them, then rolled down the hillside!
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"Fire!" Engels stood up from behind the large rock and opened fire downwards, his companions quickly joining in.

In the dead of night, who could see clearly? They just sprayed indiscriminately.

The machine-gun position was silenced instantly.

After taking out that position, Engels wasn't satisfied, and taking advantage of the night, he continued assaulting other fire points.

As dawn broke and twilight lit up the sky, reflecting the last of the moonlight on the sea foam, it disappeared with the surf.

Bodies were strewn all across San Benedicto Island!

The smell of blood and gun smoke permeated the small island, less than 10 square kilometers.

Several small hills were pockmarked with bullet holes, black marks from incendiary rounds visible.

Seagulls cried circling overhead, and a few with poor bladders dropped their excrement directly into the mouth of a tattooed corpse.

Drug traffickers, fitting to eat bird shit!

On the beach, about two dozen Northern Army soldiers carried their guns searching for survivors, a corporal flipping over a Spanish soldier, who seemed very stiff. Suddenly sensing something was off, he shouted loudly, "He's still alive!"

The soldier beside him drew his gun at him.

The Spanish soldier opened his eyes, raised his hands, about to speak, only to see the trigger pulled across from him!

Tat-tat-tat!

Blood blossomed on his back, his eyes widened as he lay on the ground like a dead dog, dying in a foreign land.

The gunfire startled several enemy soldiers lying among the corpses trying to feign death and escape detection; they had barely run two steps before being shot dead in pools of blood.

On a hilltop.

Engels' hair was disheveled, sticky with blood and smoke.

His face filthy, he tilted his head, lighting a cigarette. One could clearly see his right little finger was blown off, but his expression was blank, his eyes filled with profound fatigue.

All night, he had led a four-man squad assaulting seven machine-gun positions, killing at least dozens, the exact number Engels no longer knew.

The four-man squad had lost one member...

Engels took a deep breath, although the sea breeze was also slightly sticky with a fishy smell, but...

"It's good to be alive."

He looked up and sighed, suddenly hearing the sonic boom of fighter jets in the sky, whoosh!

Directly flying over, the water below appeared split into two.

"Our planes!" a medic wearing a red cross jumped up cheering, raising his hands, Engels squinted his eyes, realizing it wasn't just one, but a formation.

Approximately three planes flew towards the west.

"It looks like they're heading to Roca Partida Island, is the battle still not over there?" the medic said bewilderedly.

According to the plan, they had started attacking from two islands simultaneously, one from each side, but no news had come from there, it seemed they were in a tight spot.

Engels' expression turned somber.

Roca Partida Island!

In a cave, an armored vehicle blocked the entrance, its mounted machine-gun sweeping the outside, covered in bodies and dismembered limbs, a gruesome sight!

Who knew the damn guards here were so fierce?

Hiding the armored vehicle inside the cave, they couldn't get close, even with rocket launchers, as aiming was impossible; any opponents would just shrink back behind walls, causing only a tremor from the blasted walls.

To try and circle back, the small caves nearby were littered with over a dozen corpses.

"If we can't take it down, let the officer charge with explosives! Whoever rushes in first, I'll commend him for bravery!" a lieutenant colonel, the battlefield commander, shouted, his eyes bloodshot.

Had others not held him back, he would have charged himself.

"Sir, air support is here, we've been ordered to fall back!" a sergeant equipped with communications equipment told the nearly teeth-gritting lieutenant colonel.

"Retreat!"

The equally desperate Northern Army soldiers at the front line heard the command and hurriedly fell back, clearing a gap.