"General, what do we do?"
Fahed looked southward. Tiberias City was still there, the stone houses still smoking, the streets littered with rubble and broken glass. The Israelis were still there, waiting for them to charge forward.
"No more fighting," he said.
The adjutant was stunned. "General—"
"No more fighting. We can't win. The bridge is down, reinforcements can't come. Ammo is gone, men are gone. If we keep fighting, it's a wasted death. A wasted death is not as good as living. If we live, we can fight again."
He stood up and threw his gun on the ground. "Tell the brothers to retreat to the east bank. Retreat to the lakeside, find planks, find steel beams, find anything that can float. Float across, to the west bank, to where the Mexicans are. The Mexicans will take us in."
The adjutant looked at him. "General, what about you?"
