"Boss, won't this be too provocative to the Americans? It seems like we don't have a leg to stand on..." Casare said with a sheepish grin.
That's what he knew, in the sea area to the right of Maulipas State in Mexico, less than 60 nautical miles from the United States, this was indeed intimidation.
"Talking sense? I, Victor, recruit and buy horses, not for talking sense. Besides, living together in North America, why should we talk sense."
It sounds quite reasonable.
Indeed, befitting of the boss.
"Then, regarding the visit to the front line to console the troops tomorrow..."
"Proceed as usual."
Victor looked at his watch, he could still squeeze in an hour or two of sleep.
He stood up, turned to Casare and said, "Let's go, have breakfast, prepare some materials, and also, urge Goebbels to get the speech ready."
Fat Casare let out a wry smile.
He was destined to be a hard worker.
Guanahua State. Leon!
On the streets.
