Chapter 2130 - 864: Weak at the Core

"Commander, should we keep fighting?"

Hassan was silent for a long time. Then he stood up, walked out of the tent, and stood by the lake.

On the west bank of the lake, the lights of Tiberias City were still on. Sparse, dim, but still on.

"No more." He said.

The staff officer was stunned, "Commander—"

"No more."

Hassan repeated, "We have no pontoon bridges left, no tanks, no time. The Mexicans will arrive tomorrow. The Americans the day after. If we keep fighting, it's not the soldiers who will die, it's Syria's future."

He turned around, walked back into the tent, and picked up the casualty report. The 5th Division, with two thousand three hundred killed.

The 7th Division, with one thousand eight hundred killed. The Republican Guard Armored Brigade, with six hundred killed.

"Tell Damascus," he said, "we've reached the lake. But we can't cross."

Cairo, Egyptian Ministry of Defense.

Foad II stood by the sand table, looking at the Suez Canal stretching across the Sinai Peninsula. On the east bank of the canal, Egyptian tanks were advancing. The Squid Man's last line of defense had been broken.

The Minister of Defense stood beside him, his voice filled with barely contained excitement.

"Your Majesty, the vanguard has advanced to less than fifty kilometers from Tel Aviv. The Squid Man has no reserves left. In another day, we can reach the city of Tel Aviv."

Foad II said nothing. He looked at the red arrows representing the Egyptian army on the sand table, and at the route pointing straight at Tel Aviv.

Then he turned around and looked at the map of Egypt on the wall.

"Withdraw." He said.

The Minister of Defense was stunned. "Your Majesty—"

"Withdraw." Foad II repeated, "The Syrians have stopped at the shore of Lake Tiberias. The Iranians have used up their missiles. The Americans will arrive tomorrow. If we push forward, the Mexicans will attack us from the sea."

He paused.

"Tell the troops to hold the positions on the east bank of the Suez Canal. Neither advance nor retreat. Wait until the Americans arrive to talk."

5 a.m., Tel Aviv, Squid Defense Army Headquarters underground command center.

Moses stared at the screen. The lights on the Golan Heights were still flashing — not the Squid Men's, but the Syrians'. But the Syrians had stopped. They had not crossed the lake or attacked the city, just stopped on the east bank of Lake Tiberias.

The lights on the Sinai Peninsula had stopped as well. The Egyptians had not continued to push forward; they held their positions on the east bank of the Suez Canal, neither advancing nor retreating.

The lights in the Gaza Strip — all Hamas. But Hamas had stopped too. They had run out of ammunition, out of men, and were hiding in the ruins, gasping for air.

The lights on the Lebanon Border — the Milk Tea Shop's. They had also stopped. News of the Americans' arrival had spread throughout the Middle East.

Moses turned around and looked at the communications staff officer who had rushed over from the Jerusalem bunker.

"Where is the Prime Minister?"

"Sleeping. He said not to wake him before dawn."

Moses nodded. He looked at the screen displaying those stopped lights, those numbers that had finally come to a halt, those quieted battle lines.

Dawn was approaching.

8 a.m., Golan Heights, East Bank of Lake Tiberias, position of the Syrian Army's 5th Division.

Hassan stood by the lake, watching the sun slowly rising from behind the eastern hills. The sunlight sparkled on the lake's surface, as if scattered with gold dust.

The staff officer approached.

"Commander, Damascus has replied."

Hassan took the telegram. There was only one sentence on it:

"Hold the position. When the Americans arrive, we can negotiate."

He folded up the telegram and put it in his pocket.

Then he squatted down, scooped up a handful of lake water, and washed his face.

The water was very cold.

He also breathed a sigh of relief!

He stood up, turned around, and looked at the soldiers resting on the position. They were very tired, very dirty, very hungry. But they were still alive. His division, from the northern Golan Heights all the way here, had fought for five days, with two thousand three hundred dead, and more than seven thousand still alive.

In essence, still weak.