"Go fuck your MD!" The National Guard soldier wearing the rank of a captain kicked out, sending the other person flying 5 meters away.
"You think I won't hit a woman? What kind of bullshit journalists are you? This is Northern Mexico, the general's word is law; if he tells you to shut up, you shut up. Take them away; I suspect they're trouble."
Several soldiers rushed over and tied up the few American journalists, then shoved them into a vehicle.
The captain looked around at the journalists triumphantly; everyone he stared at felt their scalp tingle and hairs stand on end. "I'm telling you, obey and you'll get to eat!"
September 17, 1990, 19:00 in the evening.
The sky was growing dim.
"10!"
Major General Otto Skorzenny looked at his watch, narrowed his eyes, picked up the walkie-talkie, and ordered, "Whip Squad, move out!"
John McTavish gestured with his hand and, with a wave, charged towards the closed gate.
