Chapter 1325: Chapter 642: Used to Being Beaten, They’ve Gained Experience! (Part 2)
In just a few hours, the United Kingdom felt like a massive bomb had been dropped.
“Shame!”
“Save our soldiers!”
“Government incompetence!”
“Stop this pointless war!”
Angry crowds surged towards central London from all directions, targeting the national symbol—Buckingham Palace.
The dark mass of people filled the squares and streets leading to the palace, with roars nearly overturning the sky. Eggs, tomatoes, and even Molotov cocktails slammed against the tightly shut palace gates and the police line on alert.
Order teetered on the brink in the face of boiling public resentment.
Confronted with this uncontrollable scene, the highest commander in charge of security on site ducked in panic, and promptly issued a “Thatcher-style order!”
“Queen’s Guard cavalry! Prepare! Disperse the crowd!”
Under the sun, the well-trained war horses snorted, their hooves uneasily scraping the ground, and the gleaming breastplates and red plumes on the saddles reflected blinding light.
With a sharp whistle and the officer’s harsh command, this ceremonial unit, representing the glory of the Empire’s past, astonishingly charged against its own unarmed protesters on the streets of 21st-century London!
“My God! They’ve gone mad!”
“The cavalry! The cavalry is coming!”
“Run!”
The crowd instantly exploded.
Panic-stricken screams replaced the angry slogans, and the heavy hoofbeats pounded on the cold stone pavement under the statue of Queen Victoria. Several protesters at the forefront couldn’t dodge in time, and were viciously knocked down by the towering horses, even trampled mercilessly by iron hooves the size of a bowl, their screams heart-wrenching.
However, this time, the rear of the crowd did not completely scatter!
Having suffered so much, how could they not be prepared?
The people had been guarding against this; Thatcher in the minds of the British underclass was like a pile of dog shit, if a visa officer asks you why you’re coming to the UK, you just say, you want to defecate on Thatcher’s grave, guaranteed to pass.
“Pikemen! Up! Stop them!” A hoarse yet penetrating shout rang out from the chaos.
From behind the protest lines, a group of forewarned “reserves” suddenly dashed forth from the seams of the crowd.
They were not barehanded; each held tightly in their hands a sturdy wooden pole over two meters long!
These poles were clearly collected on the fly, including scaffolding rods from construction sites, barrier rods from dismantled roadblocks, and even thick wooden bars taken from park fences.
They were not The Mob either but quickly organized into groups, three or two together, biting their teeth, and fixing the ends of the poles firmly on the stone ground, forming a slanted, improvised yet deadly barricade!
“Hold steady! Jab the horse legs! Jab the horse belly!” the commander’s voice echoed decisively.
The leading warhorses were caught off guard. Accustomed to breaking through soft human bodies, they had never faced a dense phalanx of hard, pointed pikes targeting their vitals!
“Thud!” a pole jabbed hard into the flank of a chestnut warhorse, and although it was shielded by a thick coat, the massive impact still caused it to cry out in agony, rearing up! The rider atop, unprepared, relied solely on superb riding skills to avoid being thrown off, but the charge’s momentum abruptly ceased.
“Bang! Crack!” another pole struck precisely at the joint of a black horse’s front leg.
The warhorse let out a shrill wail, its front leg buckling, collapsing forward with a crash! The rider was flung like a broken kite, the sound of the helmet hitting the stone pavement clearly audible before they tumbled to the ground, instantly swallowed by the chaotic sea of feet.
“Nice job! Keep it up!” the people wielding the poles shouted, faces mixed with fear, anger, and a hint of vengeful delight.
They were no longer passive, beaten-down sheep.
Meanwhile, an even greater threat struck terror into the hearts of the cavalry!
“Give them a surprise! Throw!” came an unknown shout from the crowd.
Dozens of small, red-paper-wrapped cylinders were hurled into the middle and rear of the charging cavalry ranks.
“Crackle—Boom!!”
“Bang! Bang! Bang!”
Firecrackers!
Countless lit firecrackers erupted violently over the heads and beneath the feet of horses and riders alike!
The acrid smoke quickly spread everywhere.
The warhorses were completely panicked!
These royal steeds, regularly trained and even able to maintain their poise amidst cannon fire, had never encountered such close, irregular, and densely explosive blasts! The overwhelming fear instantly overpowered all their training results.
“Neigh—!” a white horse suddenly reared up, spinning frantically on the spot, flinging its rider like a leaf in a storm.
“Whinny!” another brown horse lost control entirely, franticly reversing course, charging into its own ranks and knocking over a side companion.
“Steady! Steady!”
The officer’s shout sounded weak amidst the fireworks’ thunder and warhorses’ plaintive cries, as the entire cavalry charge formation instantly disintegrated into a horribly chaotic crash of man and beast, toppling over one another.
Constantly, soldiers were violently tossed by the frantic jumps and collisions of startled horses, the heavy armor hitting the ground with muffled thuds.
Now’s the time!
“They’re falling! Charge!”
“Avenge our injured brothers!”
“Grab them!”
The long-simmering, volcanic rage finally found its outlet! People who had been fleeing and avoiding only moments ago, now flooded back like an overwhelming torrent!
Enraged civilians swarmed over the dismounted or trapped-in-frightened-horses cavalry.
Fists, feet, picked-up stones, even those wooden poles that had just served so well…
Rained down like a storm on those finely dressed, now wretchedly beleaguered symbols of empire! Helmets were dented and distorted, the splendid red uniforms tore apart, exquisitely crafted spurs were crushed in the chaos. Curses, shouts of anger, cries of the beaten, startled cries of remaining horses, wailing sirens in the distance…
In front of Queen Victoria’s statue, on the square that symbolized the heart of the Empire, the sunlight continued to shine on the golden angel atop the monument, but on the ground, past glory was trampled, leaving only uncontained violence and boiling public resentment.
Already overwhelmed, the crowd began storming Buckingham Palace!
The gates were smashed open as hundreds and thousands rushed inside…
Much like when the French people stormed the French Royal Palace to decapitate Louis XVI!
The Royal Family began to panic, and with the protection of security personnel, fled somewhat embarrassingly through escape passages.
This scene was clearly captured by countless bystanders’ phones, instantly spreading across the globe via the internet.
The cavalry charge in front of Buckingham Palace had more devastating impact than any Medellin Drug Lord broadcast.
It shredded the last shred of decency for the United Kingdom, branding it with labels of incompetence and brutality on the face of the once all-powerful Empire.
And the most ridiculous part was Buckingham Palace being breached.
In the National Palace of Mexico.
Victor leaned back in his chair watching the televised scene, shaking his head, “The British are falling further and further back, Churchill already exhausted the country’s future.”
“Boss, the British are humiliated, their base has been stormed, do you think this will lead to collapse?” Casare couldn’t help but laugh.
Back when Mexico was inundated with drugs, he didn’t have much to say cynically, followed Victor in anti-drug efforts, then joined the Allies to badmouth Victor everywhere, it would be strange if he looked comfortable now.
“When one’s body can’t support ambition, collapse is inevitable.” Victor shook his head, stood up, and turned off the screen.
You could almost hear him softly mumbling: “From Louis XVI to Nicholas II… now it’s Victoria’s descendants’ turn.”
He paused and told the bewildered Casare beside him, “History has never been about one person’s story, but the people’s history, from the British public’s perspective, the Royal Family and the Cabinet have failed tremendously.”
Oh, damn!
People’s history?!
…