Chapter 1249: Chapter 405: Harvest
The decrease in Cuban army’s offensive on the North City District is not because of their kindness or because they think it’s time to go back to sleep at night; rather, they are preparing for the next round of attack.
A troop transport vehicle drives out of the city, heading towards the temporary base of the Alliance Army along the highway at dusk.
Blood continuously drips from the gaps in the car doors along the way, covering the entire highway with a disturbing layer of red.
The temporary battlefield hospital of the Cuba-Europe Alliance Army is already overcrowded.
Due to the forced march, they didn’t bring enough stretchers, nor did they anticipate so many injured soldiers.
The beds are prioritized for European soldiers. If the beds are full, the injured are placed on stretchers, and if stretchers are unavailable, they’re placed directly on the ground.
The exoskeleton adoption rate among the Cuban army isn’t high. Many soldiers with severed limbs lie on the ground, helplessly shifting their gauze-wrapped limbs, as blood seeps out bit by bit.
But fortunately, even at this point, there’s certainly plenty of morphine available for pain relief.
Once injected, the pain disappears, and the person stops screaming, staring blankly at the sky as flies feed on the blood in their wounds.
"Make way, there’s an injured soldier."
The troop transport vehicle enters the hospital, and as the door opens, a strong smell of blood rushes forward, with inside a heap of injured soldiers stacked like cargo, packed to the brim.
Some of the injured soldiers inside had already stopped breathing, and their blood had dried up.
The few medical staff present gasped at this sight.
"Why are there so many sent here again?"
The driver shivers, unable to stand steadily after getting off the vehicle.
"There are more in the back; everyone died, all dead..."
They were pushed by the Europeans to charge into the city, either to go inside or die outside.
Those Europeans truly dared to shoot, and none of their officers stepped up to speak, just watched their subordinates sent to die.
Seeing the driver unable to articulate, the head nurse didn’t bother to ask further, instructing the other nurses to unload the injured and place them somewhere to stop the bleeding.
Then, along with two other European nurses, she wheeled a hospital bed towards the surgical vehicle.
This is a sterile operating room specially sent by Europe, ready for use once hooked up to a truck, but only the most severely injured soldiers could utilize it.
They first strip the injured soldiers naked, administer full-body anesthesia, and after the subject becomes unconscious, casually rinse the body with disinfectant, then move them onto the operating vehicle into the operating room.
The doctor inside had already finished the previous operation and pointed at the flesh on the operating table.
"Take these leftovers out for disposal, quickly bring in the next one."
The piece of flesh faced down, with the skull entirely sawed open, from the rear neck to the spine were cut open, extracting the nerve cord with surgical knives.
The entire brain was immersed in a nearby life-sustaining tank.
After a nurse completed the sealing inspection without issues, she carried the tank to the storage room, stacking the brain among other containers.
She casually tore off a sticky note.
"119..."
After writing, she applied the note and walked away, preparing for the next surgery.
As for the piece of flesh, it was placed in a body bag, ready to be cremated together.
There wasn’t much space here to pile up bodies, especially with so many others waiting for surgeries outside.
————
Honestly speaking,
The soldiers fighting for Havana weren’t weak; their training could compete with second- or third-rate regional armies.
In terms of equipment, they didn’t lack anything they should have.
But they couldn’t hold their ground in hard battles, especially when they were at a disadvantage; their collapse would be swift.
This isn’t just their individual problem; it’s an issue of the entire Havana drug cartel organization. They lack what the army most needs: legitimacy.
Even maniacs like Major General Ka or Saddam could claim to be fighting for Libya or Iraq to drive out invaders.
Because at least in name, they are the leaders of the country, heads of the government.
But Havana is merely a drug cartel.
They truly only want to deal drugs, with no intention of shouldering any government responsibilities.
When Havana’s army faced a life-or-death situation, soldiers not entirely poisoned by drugs would ask themselves this question:
Why should I risk my life like this?
They couldn’t come up with an answer.
Therefore, naturally, there’s no chance of fighting to the death without retreat.
To prevent the city defense army from having a chance to breathe, Eureka urged these Cuban soldiers to recklessly throw themselves in, using their lives to forcibly break open the defense line.
The Cuban soldiers forced into the city were nearly threatened by the Europeans with guns from behind, subjected to heavy doses of stimulants and charged forward in waves, screaming and using all sorts of exoskeleton recklessly.
Meanwhile, the artillery units at the rear cared not about friendly fire, often bombarding their own alongside the enemy.
Such tactics not just surprised David and others but also stunned the press corps.
Of course, their live broadcast had already been shut down at this time, making even Henry’s application futile.
"This is your European army, so civilized indeed."
The squad soldiers looked at the reporters with mocking eyes, making them very uncomfortable.
"This... this is just a tactic; if you had surrendered earlier, fewer people would have died."
"It’s estimated that more than six hundred thousand die from drugs each year, and over forty million people lose intelligence and employment ability due to drugs."
"That’s their choice."
The black-haired young man said through clenched teeth.
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