As soon as the order was given, five bicycle battalions composed of 800 soldiers each, like a horse taken off its restraints, rushed into the city. They galloped the streets like they owned it from five different directions of the harbour, at speeds enough to leave a strong breeze behind.
"Bang!" "Bang!"
As they advanced, like cavalry galloping in the enemy formation, leaving behind blood in their wake, they shot down any European soldier they saw in their sight with a rifle in their hand.
Some soldiers were smart enough not to confront the bicycle battalions racing down the streets. They vanished into houses and narrow hiding places, anywhere that offered even a sliver of safety. With their lives on the line, pride was the first thing they abandoned. Uniforms were stripped off without a second thought and thrown away, discarded like cursed objects, as if the fabric itself were a magnet drawing the god of death straight to them.
But was it really that simple?
"Knock, knock!"
