"Bombing raid!"
The hundredth such scream in only a few days had made the sentry's voice hoarse and chalky. The Mexican army began to scramble to cover what vehicles they could with camouflage while disguising themselves. The American plane roared in low, dropping it's deadly payload all along the line of soldiers who were covering their ears and praying for deliverance.
Chavo Oso ran forward, hunched over like an old man to avoid standing out as a target. He grabbed the colonel he was looking for as he passed him, and threw himself and the unfortunate man hard to the ground.
"They've been bombing us non stop since we blew the scanner station. But we haven't seen a single infantryman. Why?"
"Maybe they've got their hands tied with Canada," suggested the colonel.
"Canada can't be half the threat we are right now, no matter what they're doing. We're on a direct collision course with their capital. So why aren't they coming to engage us?"
"Maybe they're massing they're troops for one big attack on us, and they're trying to whittle us down with the constant bombing raids."
Oso snorted.
"They must be on a constant shift. One pilot sleeps for eight hours while another bombs for eight hours then they switch. They've damn near ruined our whole air force. It was a hell of a thing to behold earlier in the war. Our forces at Juala were monumental."
The colonel nodded, not so much out of knowledge but it hopes of satiating his superior with agreement. Bombs began to drop nearby them, so they both rolled into a foxhole.
"Strafing run!" someone yelled.
The fighters in the attack groups came especially low, trying to root out and shoot down any soldiers on the ground.
"Swift and deadly," Oso said, "They've been hounding us this whole time. You know, colonel, I think you're right. They must be mounting their troops for one huge offensive. I'm going to have all our forces tighten up, and be prepared for a huge battle."
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