Outnumbered? I'll conquer America with an unlimited number of suicide soldiers.

Chapter 60 Mare Island

Vallejo, the dock.

A barge loaded with potatoes, onions, cured meat and flour sacks rested quietly by the pier, its mooring ropes tied to rotten, blackened wooden stakes.

One end of Mare Island is close to the Napa River, which provides a continuous supply of fresh water. In addition, wells dug on the island also ensure that fresh water is not needed.

Inside the ship's cabin, a city hall official was checking the quantity of supplies. Halfway through the count, he suddenly sensed something was wrong.

Why is it so quiet on the deck?

This is unlike the behavior of those foul-mouthed bastards.

Insults, shoving, and shouting vulgar jokes are the most common sounds on deck.

He frowned, turned around to go up and take a look, but just as he stepped out of the cabin, he suddenly caught a glimpse of light out of the corner of his eye.

That was the reflection of the hunting knife.

Before he could react, the hunting knife plunged into his kidney in the side of his waist with lightning speed and twisted violently.

An indescribable pain shot through him. He opened his mouth wide, but only managed a weak whimper before collapsing to the ground, unconscious.

"solve."

John drew his hunting knife and stabbed the official in the heart again, making sure he was completely dead, before saying this.

"What did you solve? There's such a big pool of blood on the ground."

Arthur, who had followed along, complained, "Thanks to our little genius John, we still have to wash the deck thanks to him."

"How can murder not involve bloodshed?" John's eyes widened.

"You're not going to break his neck?" Arthur sighed.

"Ha, John, who's as stupid as a pig, and Arthur, who watches the pig get into trouble, you two are a perfect match."

The man came over with a mop and a bucket and tossed them into their hands. "Alright, gentlemen, clean up your own mess. And remember to hurry, lingering here too long will arouse suspicion from the other dockworkers."

The two men, cursing and swearing, took the tools, one splashing water and the other wiping, and began cleaning the bloodstains on the deck.

The remaining dozen or so people gathered together to discuss their next steps.

Dutch said, "This time our target is not only David Farragut, the commander of the naval shipyard on Mare Island, but also all the naval personnel there."

"According to previous intelligence, there are two companies of naval soldiers stationed inside."

In terms of firepower deployment, be wary of the several cannons near the dock, whose muzzles block the entire berth area.

In addition, the two supply ships used to transport timber and stone also need to be careful; their rapid-fire cannons are deadly when they open fire.

He paused, then continued, "So my plan is this: leave a few men on deck pretending to be sailors and city officials."

The others hid in wooden food crates, which were then carried in by those outside. At night, they were secretly pulled out and killed!

"It doesn't sound like there's any problem."

The middle-aged man stroked his chin and said, "But remember to mark the outside of the boxes. Don't put the boxes with people on the bottom, or they'll turn into coffins."

"If there are no objections, then let's proceed accordingly."

Dutch's gaze swept across everyone's faces, and he said, "Let's set sail. First, head downstream to pick up the brothers who are waiting over there, and then slowly head towards the Mare Island pier a few kilometers away."

A small plume of black smoke billowed from the barge's chimney, and its propeller churned the murky river water as it slowly moved away from the pier.

Marey Island Pier

Navy soldiers wearing dark blue short-sleeved shirts and white trousers are on duty.

It was a squad of twelve men, led by a sergeant with a hooked nose.

He was responsible for setting up the dock sentry posts, checking personnel, and keeping records of entry and exit.

"Sir, a ship has docked. Looks like it's here to deliver supplies." A private jogged over and saluted.

The sergeant nodded and said to the man beside him, "Corporal Vance, take your men and go check it out."

"Yes, sir!"

Corporal Vance saluted and led two men straight to the barge that was about to dock.

The barge slowly approached the dock at an angle.

The sailors on the ship threw the rope onto the dock, and the private next to Vance went over, picked up the rope, and tied it to a stake.

After repeating the above steps several times, the three cables at the bow and stern firmly secured the barge to the dock.

Vance waited by until the private laid the thick plank on the barge's gunwale before he slowly climbed onto the barge.

Why are you so late today?

His gaze swept over the people on deck, and his brow furrowed immediately. "Where's Carter? Why isn't he here?"

He slipped Carter money last week, asking him to bring over a few bottles of bourbon this week. Where is he?

On the deck, a man wearing an old felt hat came up and replied, "Mr. Carter caught a cold yesterday and was treated with bloodletting. He's still in bed and resting at home."

"I am Tacitus, here to temporarily assume his duties today. This is the supply list for this week."

Vance shook hands with the man who called himself Tacitus, looking somewhat displeased.

Anyone would have this expression if they knew that something they had been eagerly anticipating for a week would still take another week to arrive.

He took the supply list, glanced at it, and led his men down into the cabin for a casual inspection.

The potatoes were fresh, the onions hadn't sprouted, and the cured meat was firm and free of maggots. He felt the quality was acceptable, so he lost interest in checking it more closely.

"That's settled then. Hurry up and move them. We need to put all the supplies into storage before sunset."

Dutch, using the alias Tacitus, secretly breathed a sigh of relief. The wooden box that Vance had just inspected contained the people hidden on the next level below the potato.

He had just prepared to kill and launch a full-scale attack if anything went wrong.

Dutch called out to the others on deck, instructing them to begin carrying the food.

He walked over to Vance and asked, "Corporal, where is the warehouse? This is my first time here, so I'm not sure."

Vance had no interest in saying much. He stood on the ship's railing, pointed to a row of bungalows in the distance, then ignored Dutch and went back to his post.

As the sun sets, its golden rays illuminate the clouds, creating a beautiful scene.

After several hours of work, hundreds of boxes of food were moved into the supply warehouse on the east side of the dock.

The iron gate was half-open, and the inside was piled up full. Newly delivered bags of potatoes, onions, cured meat, and flour occupied the entire inner area.

Several naval soldiers were counting the number of boxes, and the leading petty officer was yawning as he checked the records with a whiteboard in hand.

Dutch stood at the warehouse door, handing over the documents to the sergeant in charge of receiving them. Out of the corner of his eye, he scanned the warehouse interior, memorizing the window positions, shelf layout, and nighttime lighting.

"Alright, sign it." The sergeant handed over the record board.

Dutch took the pen and smoothly signed "Tacitus." He closed the notebook and, as he handed it back, casually asked, "Do you usually lock your warehouse?"

The sergeant gave him a strange look: "Of course we'll lock it. Why wouldn't we just let someone steal it?"

Dutch smiled but didn't reply.

Night had completely fallen.

The heavy iron gate of the supply warehouse slammed shut from the outside, and the footsteps gradually faded into the distance.

The fires on Mare Island gradually died down, leaving only a few gas lamps on the dock flickering in the wind, casting long shadows of the sentry soldiers.

The area around the barracks gradually quieted down, and the soldiers began to drift off to sleep.

The warehouse remained dark and silent for several hours.

early morning.

Inside the warehouse, on the inner side, lay a pile of wooden crates, the lids of which had been gently pushed open a crack from the inside.

One hand reached out, then a second, and with both hands working together, they slowly pushed the lid open, and a burly man emerged from the pile of food.

One person, two people, three people —

One by one, the lids of the wooden crates were pushed open from the inside.

More than twenty figures filed out, unloading their own boxes and beginning to help their companions in the remaining boxes escape.

Soon, more than a hundred people had assembled inside the warehouse.

No one spoke; only extremely restrained breathing and the faint rustling of fabric rubbing together.

Arthur stood at the front of the group, using the moonlight shining through the window above the wall to quickly make hand gestures.

Several people worked together to send one of their teammates out of the high window. A dozen seconds later, the lock on the door was opened, the door was pulled to one side, and the warehouse door was wide open.

The group dispersed silently.

The team was divided into three parts.

Some were sent to deal with the soldiers patrolling the island.

One group was sent to control the island's fortifications and docks, cutting off the defenders' retreat and blocking any ships that might attempt to leave.

The last group went to the vicinity of the barracks to deal with the soldiers who were still asleep.

The naval soldiers stationed on Mare Island were tasked with protecting the shipyard rather than fighting in the field, so their barracks were built to be very spacious and comfortable.

The barracks were divided into four parts, each housing fifty soldiers.

A single-layered, communal bed with wooden wall panels and newspapers nailed to the walls for wind protection.

Arthur divided his dozens of men into two teams, deciding to concentrate their firepower first to wipe out all the soldiers in the two barracks before dealing with the rest.

Someone took out a thin iron shovel and inserted it into the crack in the door. Three seconds later, there was an extremely faint "click".

The door opened.

The group filed in, tiptoeing.

The situation inside the barracks was laid bare. Everyone chose their targets and then acted together!

He covered his mouth, plunged the hunting knife straight into his heart, and the naval soldier's body convulsed. Without making a sound, he became a corpse.

A strong smell of blood began to permeate the air.

At the end of the communal sleeping area, someone suddenly sat up, groggily reaching for something beside the bed.

He saw a figure in the darkness.

"Who is it?"

Arthur lunged forward, his hunting knife plunging upwards into the man's jaw, piercing his tongue and brain. The man, eyes wide, fell backward, knocking over the things beside the bed.

That's an iron kettle.

With a thud, the thing rolled a few times on the ground.

Soon, more and more people were awakened by the sound.

"What's going on—"

John threw a knife, which pierced the man's throat.

At the same time, he pulled out a revolver from his waist and pointed it at the soldiers who had just woken up and were holding guns not far away.

Gunshots rang out in the cramped barracks, and the brief flashes of light illuminated the faces of the people in the room, some confused and some terrified.

As soon as the gunshots rang out, the Van der Linde gang members no longer concealed their intentions, pulling out their revolvers and firing repeatedly at the soldiers in the barracks bunks.

Gunfire intensified, and screams rose in waves.

Some people jumped off their beds only to be slammed back onto them by bullets, while others tried to retaliate but were hit by the ceiling.

"Enemy attack!!!"

"Enemy attack!!!"

"Enemy attack!!!"

The moment the gunshot rang out, the entire island of Mare came to its senses.

However, what followed was not an orderly counterattack, but a complete rout.

In the other barracks, the soldiers, awakened by the sudden movement, opened their eyes and picked up the guns placed beside their beds.

Seeing the shadowy figures in the darkness, under immense pressure, the strings of reason snapped in their minds. They couldn't distinguish friend from foe and began firing wildly.

They frantically pulled the trigger at any human-shaped outline.

Gunshots, curses, and wails mingled together, drawing the remaining conscious individuals into the vortex.

A few minutes later, apart from a small number of soldiers who escaped, most of the soldiers in the barracks fell silent.

"Have you found their commander?" Arthur shouted.

"There were no officers in uniform among the bodies, and no one was found at the commander's residence next to the camp!"

Someone replied, "David Farragut isn't here!"

Near the dock, at the fort.

Colonel David Farragut stood beside the last coastal gun, inspecting the breech mechanism by the dim light of a gas lamp.

This is a habit he has maintained for many years.

He ran his fingers over the cool cast iron cannon barrel, confirming that all parts were intact, then straightened up, preparing to return to the commander's residence to rest.

Suddenly, he heard a gunshot coming from the direction of the camp.

"Did it go off accidentally?"

The thought only lingered in his mind for a moment before the continuous gunfire and shouts of enemy attack made his expression change drastically.

Without the slightest hesitation, Farragut ran toward the dock.

Those who could sneak into Mare Island silently and attack the soldiers in the barracks were definitely not some stragglers.

British? Or Mexican?

Regardless of who it is, since it has already happened, there's no point in him going back. It's better to preserve his life and leave the island to seek support.

As they drew closer to the dock, the dark silhouette of the escape boat beside the berth became clearly visible.

Farragut had just relaxed a little when he was not far behind him.

boom!

A gunshot rang out.

Farragut, who was running, fell to the ground, his limbs twitching weakly twice on the wooden boardwalk, and then he stopped moving.

"Wow, we caught a big fish."

The middle-aged man in the darkness blew away the gunpowder smoke from the muzzle of his gun, looked at the corpse in the colonel's uniform, and whistled.

"My lord, I need your help."

Inside Chinatown, Zeng Tai, yawning, had a sudden thought.

Use [Fear of Death]!

On the distant island of Mare, after a flash of light, the corpse on the dock stood up.

"I'll make it short."

The older man nodded to Farragut and said, "The gunshots tonight won't be hidden from the people in Vallejo across the street. You'll need to come up with a good excuse."

Farragut shook his head and said, "That's easy. I'll use the excuse that some soldiers are under too much stress and have nightmares about the camp going to explode at night to appease the outside world."

"The soldiers here rarely go out. As long as you stay here temporarily and pretend to be my soldiers, you can completely fool them."