North America 1849, from Gold Rush to Warlord

Chapter 131 Solomon's Temple (Seeking monthly votes)

The Freemasons of America have hundreds of thousands of members, but only a mere thirteen Knights of the Temple who are directly under the command of the Grand Master!
There are only thirteen Hidden Knights in Solomon's Temple.

Only after an old knight sacrifices himself or retires will a new official knight be selected from the most loyal and capable prospective knights.

To become a true Hidden Knight, one must undergo five years of grueling training and a three-year probationary period in preparation for training at the Solomon Temple!

It's no exaggeration to say that every Hidden Knight is one in ten thousand!

Captain Nicholson's father was a senior Freemason and had an almost fanatical loyalty to Freemasonry.

Nicholson received rigorous training from his father from a young age. After being admitted to West Point, he passed the most rigorous and brutal secret training and selection by the Freemasons, becoming a proud Hidden Knight of the Temple of Solomon.

Then, after undergoing 5+3 years of grueling training and a probationary period, Captain Nicholson finally became one of the Thirteen Hidden Knights of Solomon's Temple!
-
In 1850, Nevada was almost entirely a desolate desert!

Apart from a few scattered mining towns, this vast, arid land is inhabited only by bandits and Native Americans.

Captain Nicholson, riding alone, crossed the Sierra Nevada Mountains and continued for six days through the desert, where he ran into Brigadier General George Phillips and the relocating U.S. Army Southwest Command.

Brigadier General George Phillips is currently leading two infantry regiments, three cavalry battalions, and one artillery battalion, totaling more than 3,800 men, drawn from New Mexico and Arizona.

Such a large army marching through the desert could only advance along scattered oases.

With Captain Nicholson's abilities, he accurately predicted Brigadier General George Phillips's advance route.

When Captain Nicholson appeared in Brigadier General George Phillips' tent, the brigadier general looked at the dusty, disheveled, and uninvited guest with a questioning gaze.

Nicholson dusted himself off and gave an exceptionally crisp military salute: "Brigadier General, I am Captain Nicholson. I have urgent military information to report to you privately!"

As he spoke, Captain Nicholson showed Brigadier General George Phillips his officer's identification.

"Army Logistics Department...?"

Looking at Captain Nicholson's badge, Brigadier General George Phillips asked with even greater disbelief, "Logistics guys reporting me urgent military intelligence? Are you kidding me?"

Lieutenant Colonel Wharton, no, he's now Colonel Wharton!

That's right. Although he suffered a defeat at Elephant Mountain, Lieutenant Colonel Walton, who received a full $300,000 from Azu, is now the Colonel Chief of Staff of the Southwest Command of the United States Army under the magic of gold and dollars!
Chief of Staff Walton took Captain Nicholson's badge from Brigadier General George Phillips, examined it carefully, and said with slight surprise, "Even if there is some urgent military situation, I don't think it's the logistics guys' place to relay orders, is it?"

"Brigadier General, I come from San Francisco...!"

Captain Nicholson emphasized the word "San Francisco": "In this emergency, I do have confidential and urgent military information to report to you privately!"

As he spoke, Captain Nicholson's gaze swept across the faces of the staff officers in the tent one by one.

At the same time, Nicholson subtly made a triangle shape with his hands.

"Ahem...!" Brigadier General George Phillips saw the secret hand gesture and immediately understood what was going on. He then said, "You may all leave. I need to speak with this captain from the logistics department alone!"

"Yes Sir!"

Led by Chief of Staff Colonel Wharton, a group of staff officers filed out.

But these staff officers didn't go far; they gathered in twos and threes around the brigadier general's large tent, smoking.

"This guy is from San Francisco. Could it be that Chinaman again, and his Huamei Industrial information?"

A young major, a staff officer, lit a cigarette for Colonel Walton and asked in a low voice.

This young major was one of the officers who accompanied Walton to San Francisco last time to negotiate the purchase of new rifles.

In San Francisco, Ah Zu and Hua Mei Industries left them with deep and wonderful memories.

So, upon hearing that they were from San Francisco, the major and the other four officers who had been to San Francisco enthusiastically gathered around Chief of Staff Walton.

"Who knows?"

Colonel Walton remained expressionless, seemingly unconcerned, but he had already pricked up his ears, listening intently to everything happening inside the general's tent.

To his disappointment, he couldn't hear any sound from inside.

The logistics captain stayed in the general's tent for almost an hour.

An hour later, the general's voice finally came from inside the tent: "Come in, all of you!"

When Chief of Staff Walton entered the tent with a group of staff officers, the logistics captain had already vanished without a trace.

"General, where is that captain?"

Brigadier General George Phillips, his eyes fixed on the battle map on the table, said without looking up, "He has completed his mission and left."

"left?"

A group of staff officers looked at each other in bewilderment. They had been standing around the general's tent the whole time, and clearly hadn't seen anyone leave.

"Colonel Walton, relay my orders...!"

Brigadier General George Phillips offered no explanation, but instead ordered: "Order the entire army to change course. Our destination... is here!"

As he spoke, the brigadier general drew a small circle on the map with his pencil.

Colonel Walton stepped forward, staring at the circle on the map, and hesitated, "General, this is... the northern part of California's Central Valley? As far as I know, there are no towns here suitable for establishing a command post!"

Their unit was originally marching towards Monterey in central California, near the Pacific Ocean.

Last time, they established their temporary headquarters in Monterey. This time, Monterey is ideally suited in every respect for establishing the formal headquarters.

"My chief of staff, why are you asking so many questions!"

Brigadier General George Phillips glared at Colonel Walton: "Your job is to relay my orders, not to question them!"

"Yes Sir!"

Chief of Staff Walton immediately stood at attention and gave a standard military salute.

Then, he led a group of staff officers and quickly went down to redo the marching route.

The destination was changed from Monterey, the headquarters in California, to the Central Valley in Northern California, a distance of about 300 miles.

For such a large force, making such a major adjustment all of a sudden is no simple matter.

These staff officers needed to quickly and thoroughly revise the original marching route. Especially in the desolate Nevada desert, if they deviated from the course, these thousands of men could die of thirst in the desert.

In addition to adjusting the marching route, they also had to calculate the supply of materials, especially water and food, to see if they could reach the central valley!
Then, it is necessary to accurately convey orders to this hastily assembled force to ensure that everyone acts in unison.

This is a real-life example of "the higher-ups just talk, and the people below run themselves ragged!"

A moment later, Chief of Staff Walton, who was busy with a group of staff officers, was called back by Brigadier General George Phillips.

As soon as Colonel Walton entered the tent, he saw the brigadier general still lying on the battle map, in almost the same motionless position as when they left.

"General...!"

Colonel Wharton spoke cautiously.

"My chief of staff, please tell me, are the supplies and ammunition we have enough to support a small to medium-sized battle?"

Faced with the general's question, Colonel Walton was immediately alarmed, but he remained calm: "General, in order to reduce the burden of marching in the desert, we did not carry enough ammunition this time, but instead carried as much water and food as possible..."

“Our original plan was to receive the new rifles and ammunition from Huamei Industrial after we arrived in California. After we replaced them with the new rifles, the old ammunition would be useless.”

"Therefore, our soldiers are only carrying a small amount of ammunition, which I think is insufficient for us to engage in a medium-intensity battle!"

Upon hearing Colonel Walton's reply, Brigadier General George Phillips frowned deeply: "Surely a small-scale battle shouldn't be a problem?"

"Yes, General!"

Colonel Walton couldn't help but press on, "General, are we heading to the Central Valley? Is there some battle waiting for us?"

"Hmph!" George Phillips looked up and gave his chief of staff a cold glance: "Don't ask what you shouldn't ask! When the time comes for you to know, you will know!"

"Yes, General!"

George Phillips looked down at the map and asked, "How many more days until we reach the northern part of the Central Valley?"

"Based on the current marching speed, our staff estimates that it will take about another half month!"

"Too slow!" Brigadier General George Phillips said. "Speed ​​up the march! Get there within ten days!"

"Yes Sir!"

After leaving the general's tent, Colonel Walton returned to the staff tent.

It was late at night when everything was arranged, and Colonel Walton dragged his tired body back to his tent.

"Colonel, do you need to rest now?"

The orderly helped Colonel Walton remove his uniform and boots and made his bed.

“Thomas, listen to me…!” Colonel Walton called the orderly’s name in a low voice. “A sandgrouse flew into the valley, looking to peck at insects!”

"The sandgrouse flew to the valley every ten days to peck at the insects!" Orderman Thomas repeated, nodded slightly, and whispered, "Yes, Colonel, I understand!"

Thomas made up a bed for Colonel Walton and waited until the colonel was asleep before crawling out of the tent.

In the vast makeshift camp, Private Thomas wandered through the darkness, eventually arriving at the outside of an inconspicuous little tent on the edge of the camp.

"You damn bastard...!"

Private Thomas muttered something under his breath outside the tent.

"Old Mother Pulei...!"

From inside the tent came the same low reply.

"The sandgrouse flew to the valley every ten days, wanting to peck at insects to eat!"

Having exchanged the code, Thomas repeated the phrase.

"The sandgrouse flew to the valley every ten days, wanting to peck at insects to eat!"

The people inside the tent repeated the same sentence.

After confirming that everything was correct, Private Thomas turned and disappeared among the rows of tents.

A moment later, a private with diarrhea crawled out of the small tent.

The soldier, clutching his backside, plunged headfirst into the desert.

"who……?"

The soldiers on guard around the camp spotted the private with diarrhea.

"Bro, I have diarrhea... Pfft!"

The private let out a loud, smelly fart!

The sentry pinched his nose and cursed, "Fuck off...! Get lost, get somewhere else...!"

"oh……!"

The private ran a long way, but instead of crouching down to pull, he dug a hole in the sand and buried a metal cylinder no bigger than his little finger inside.

The metal cylinder was buried, and then stones were used to build a unique mark on it.

……

The next day, the troops, who were ordered to speed up their march, set off early in the morning.

Half a day after the large group left, a dozen or so riders tracked them down and arrived at what had been the camp.

"They camped here last night. Search the surrounding area for anything left by our people!"

Under the leader's command, the dozen or so riders scattered around, searching for any possible intelligence.

"Found it...!"

A moment later, a rider came galloping back, carrying a small metal tube.

The leader took the small metal tube but did not open it to look at it.

Instead, he took out a pigeon cage from the back of his mount.

"Gu Gu Gu Gu...!"

Take out a pure white homing pigeon from the cage.

The metal tube is tied to the pigeon's leg, and then the leader gently tosses the pigeon into the air!
"Bah bang bang...!"

The snow-white carrier pigeons flapped their wings and quickly soared into the sky, flying off in the northwest direction.

"Let's go, keep following them...!"

Half an hour after the riders left, a hand suddenly stretched out from an inconspicuous little sand dune in the original camp!

This hand, which suddenly emerged from beneath the sand dune, ripped off the tarpaulin covering the person!
Then, a figure slowly sat up from under the sand dune!

The figure slowly stood up, brushed the sand off his body, and stared intently in the direction where the army and the dozen or so riders had left.

"What amazing Chinese guys!"

This figure was none other than Captain Nicholson, who had already completed his mission and left!
"You even have spies within the Southwest Command of the U.S. Army!"

I really underestimated you before!

Captain Nicholson leisurely left the dunes, his solitary figure walking a long way across the desert, finally finding his hidden horse behind a tall hill.

He took the water bag off the horse, took a small sip himself, and then fed the water to his mount.

Captain Nicholson patted the neck of his horse as it drank water, and smiled at his mount, saying, "Old Jack, who do you think that Chinese spy is, planted inside the Southwest Command?"

"Could that Chinese guy know our target?"

"Even if he knows our target and makes preparations in advance, can he withstand the attack of several thousand regular troops?"

"If there are too many casualties on both sides, won't that anger that Chinese guy? And won't it anger the War Department? Won't it anger the members of Congress?"

"Could it even anger our president?"

"Hehe...!" Nicholson's smile grew wider and wider: "Regardless of who wins or loses this battle, it will inevitably anger one side! As long as they completely turn against each other and start fighting all at once, our mission will be accomplished, right?"

“But spies are the worst!” Nicholson’s smile gradually turned cold: “Old Jack, tell me, should we help the Brigadier General find that damned spy?”

"Furthermore, if they could plant spies in a place like the Southwest Command of the Army, could there be spies of that Chinese guy in the Freemasons in California as well?"

Nicholson answered his own question, "Well, old Jack, I think it's very likely, don't you think?"

After finishing his water, old Jack affectionately licked Nicholson's palm with his tongue.

"Hehe!" Nicholson laughed, "A very impressive and interesting Chinese guy! This is the first time I've encountered such a formidable opponent!"

Nicholson mounted his horse, looked in the direction the army had left, hesitated for a moment, and finally spurred his horse to follow.
-
The next day, in the morning.

"Hi, BOSS!"

Victoria, holding the carrier pigeon message she had just received, delivered it to Ah Zu's desk before she even had a chance to open it.

"This is intelligence passed down from our eighteen locations in New Mexico!"

After recruiting Walton, the Eighteenth Bureau immediately established a secret intelligence organization near the Army's White Sands base in New Mexico.

The main role of the New Mexico intelligence organization was to relay the intelligence sent out by Walton.

Because of the great distance, only carrier pigeons could be used to receive intelligence from New Mexico in a timely manner.

With the entire Southwest Command of the Army now relocating to California, the New Mexico intelligence organization has lost its primary purpose.

Under Victoria's arrangement, most of the personnel of the New Mexico intelligence organization followed the military, transferring to California while delivering intelligence.

Private Thomas, along with that private with diaper rash, were both once "outstanding recruits" in the Northern California Rangers.

Now, they have transformed into outstanding soldiers of the Southwest Command!

They were all soldiers who had joined the army a few months earlier. Furthermore, Walton placed Thomas by his side to facilitate intelligence sharing.

And now, what Ah Zu is holding in his hand is the latest achievement of the secret intelligence organization, the Eighteenth Division.

Ah Zu opened the metal tube and took out a small piece of paper, about two fingers wide.

"The sandgrouse flew to the valley every ten days, wanting to peck at insects to eat...!"

Sandgrouse was the code name of Brigadier General George Phillips.

A "ten-day period" is ten days of marching time.

The valley undoubtedly refers to the Central Valley.

"Pecking at insects to eat...hehe!"

Ah Zu grinned.

"You ungrateful old bird, don't you know whether this big worm of mine is poisonous or not?"

(End of this chapter)