The staff officer froze.
"Commander, not wait for the follow-up troops—attack now?"
Hassan shook his head.
"No rush. The Squid people are already exhausted. Let them despair for one more night, it's easier to attack tomorrow."
He jumped off the tank, walked to the lakeside, squatted down, and scooped up a handful of lake water.
The water was very chilly.
He took a sip.
"Syrian territory." He mumbled.
Just as he stood up, from the slopes on the eastern shore, the sound of artillery suddenly rang out.
It wasn't Syrian artillery.
It was Squid artillery.
The last reserve unit—the 679th Reserve Armored Brigade—rushed out of Tiberias City.
Forty Merkavas, formed into an attack formation, storming down from the slope.
Hassan was stunned.
"Are they crazy?"
Forty against three hundred.
It's a suicide mission.
But those Merkavas didn't stop.
