The Minister of Defense stood behind him, his voice hoarse and nearly inaudible.
"Mr. President, Hamah has fallen. Homs is about to be lost too. The Turks are advancing south too quickly, with their planes bombing, tanks charging, and infantry clearing. Our troops have run out of ammunition, water, and food. We can't hold on."
Assad didn't turn back. "What about Maher?"
"Still in the north. The 4th Division has less than fifty men left, but they've held the northern defense line of Damascus. The Iranian 12th Division has retreated and is no longer advancing."
Assad nodded. "Tell Maher to withdraw south. Withdraw to Damascus. Damascus needs him."
The Minister of Defense was stunned. "Mr. President, the north—"
"The north can't be held. Hamah has been lost, Homs is about to fall too. Rather than holding the north, hold Damascus. If Damascus holds, Syria still exists. If Damascus falls, everything is lost."
He lowered his head, looking at the empty pant leg.
