"General, the 3rd Brigade has been wiped out. The 2nd Brigade has less than two companies left. The 1st Brigade—cannot be contacted."
Fahd didn't turn around. He watched the tanks drawing closer, watched the Iranian soldiers charging through the smoke. They were fearless, even more fearless than the Syrians.
"Tell the 2nd Brigade to retreat south. Retreat to the eastern shore of Lake Tiberias and hold the crossing. Tell the 1st Brigade—those still alive, to also retreat south."
He paused.
"Retreating to the lakeside means retreating to Syria."
The adjutant turned and ran.
Fahd stood in the trench, watching the Iranian tanks break through the 1st Division's defenses, crushing over smoking craters, destroyed machine gun positions, and Syrian soldiers who hadn't managed to retreat.
Some had their legs crushed, screaming; some had their waists crushed, silent; some had their heads crushed, red everywhere, white too.
