Village Occupation

After a week's march, maybe less, Dundee and his command arrived on the outskirts of the small Mexican village of Begonia. They could see a hardscrabble, poverty-ridden slum. Dundee ordered Tim and his men to move to the east of the city, and a wave of miscs to move to the left, under Sergeant Harriman. Dundee himself would lead his loyalists in, and Sergeant Kimmel would provide air cover.

The army descended on the small, impoverished village, finding no resistance. They lined up on respective sides of the town.

"Where's my tank?" Sergeant Harriman demanded.

"We'll get it from the damn frogs," Dundee shouted.

Dundee pointed his saber, and Tim's men began to charge, hurtling over an adobe wall on the side of the town. Stubb's horse failed to jump high enough to clear the wall, and he fell backwards. The rest of the command went onward, in towards the center of the town. A group of snot-faced children watched them, then fled as Dundee's contingent roared into the town square. They saw the hanging bodies of several Mexican soccer fans, then a plaque which read:

"World Cup 2005
France 3, Mexico 0"

The command amassed in the center of the town. Dundee could see the French barracks, and a few uniformed French soldiers scurried inside. Dundee watched as Grenouille unlimbered the command's artillery. He then turned to Potts.

"All right, Jed," he said to the scout. "Make it short, and to the point.

Potts rode up to the door of the barracks, and then shouted inside: "Get your ass outta there, Froggy!"

A well-dressed French officer, buttoning up his frock coat, exited with two armed French troopers. "What do you want, you pisshead American? You are interrupting our cheese-eating contest."

"Complements, Major Groggy Dundee, United States Cavalry," Potts informed him. "You've got five minutes to clear out of here before he's gonna cut loose."

"He would not dare!" the indignant Frenchman replied. "This is a horrendous breach of international law, and an unprovoked confrontation with a friendly power. . ."

Potts interrupted him. "Sonny. . . the Major ain't no lawyer. And you've got four minutes." Potts turned to ride off, but Captain Tremaine - for t'was his name - called after him.

"I don't believe you," he said to Potts. "Look at his command."

Potts turned and saw a hideous gallery of ugly, pimpled faces, overbite ridden jawlines, poorly-matched, dirt-encrusted clothing, and twitchy hands. Potts shivered, but turned back to Tremaine. The two commenced a long argument.

"It's miraculous," a woman's voice called out.

Dundee turned as a young, beautiful, curvaceous woman with dark brown hair emerged from the adobe, trailed by an ugly, older Mexican named Chico and a few others.

"First the Indians, then the Spanish, then Mexicans, then Texas freebooters," she said in a thick German accent.

"What's your fucking point?" Dundee asked her, unmoved.

"We have nothing to give you," the woman said to him simply. "No food, no animals - no women. Go away and leave us alone."

"No," Dundee replied.

At this, Potts shouted to the French captain, "How in the hell do you want me to prove to you. . ."

Without any warning, Potts turned back towards Dundee, riding hell-for-leather, his shotgun out. Dundee ducked out of the way, thinking Potts had gone mad. Tim walked up to the woman and kissed her hand gently.

"With you in the village," he said, "This village is rich beyond compare."

Tim looked up in time to see her head explode into a red mist. Potts, in his fury, had shot the woman - Teresa something-or-other - to prove to the French Captain that he meant business.

After this, the horrified French troopers began to move back into the barracks - but Sergeant Kimmel's helicopter unleashed a furious volley of machine gun fire upon them. Dozens of rounds exploded out of their bodies in a hue of bright crimson, and their bullet riddled bodies fell to the ground.

After this, Dundee ordered his artillery to open fire. The rest of his command did not heed this, and every single man in his command - pretty much - began firing at the French barracks, even though no further French troopers had exited. One French soldier rushed out, firing an M-16, but he was cut to pieces by a volley of machine gun fire. The rest walked out after a moment, their arms in the air. Without any orders, Sergeant Kimmel fired at them, tearing their bodies to shreds. After they fell, Kimmel landed her craft and walked over to Dundee.

"What in the FUCK is wrong with you?" he asked.

"Sir?"

Dundee started to speak, but shook his head - it was no use. "Go reconnoiter for French columns," he said finally.

"Don't I get to party?" Kimmel complained.

"When you stop being a fool," Dundee replied curtly.

Kimmel saluted Dundee, then gave him the finger and climbed into her helicopter and flew off. Dundee turned to Tim.

"Well," he said to his subordinate, "let's have a party!"