Chapter 125: Overperforming
The last of the gunshots had been fired by the time I reached the compound.
When I got there, the battle was already over.
The enemy had attacked from the same direction Vicente had launched his charge earlier that day. The only difference was that this time, my soldiers were ready to meet them head-on. More than twenty rifles waited behind windows and alleyways, watching for the moment the enemy would emerge from the treeline and step into the open field.
It was nothing short of a massacre.
The fallen torches scattered across the field cast a flickering glow over the otherwise dark meadows. White uniforms littered the grass, their color stark against the night. The attackers had fancied themselves an army, it seemed. Each of them wore a white jacket modeled after the revolutionary uniform, and carried a kit—Remington rifle, ammunition pouch, and bolo knife.
Only to fall within minutes of the engagement.
Peering out from the compound, I counted more than twenty enemy bodies sprawled across the field.
The recruits I had sent to the church returned with a full crate of ammunition. As it turned out, they had confiscated ten crates of rolling block ammunition from the pulajanes defenders earlier—enough to have prolonged the battle for hours if it had come to that.
But it never did. The rounds inside the enemy soldiers’ pouches had been more than sufficient for an engagement that lasted no more than thirty minutes.