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Dusk had just fallen over Hill 330.
Centurion Yote of the 11th Support Company sat on a bench inside the observation post, staring absentmindedly at the desert outside the window as darkness slowly engulfed it.
A few hours ago, he had received word from the frontline command post that the savages from the New Alliance had suddenly launched an all-out assault on the Army’s defenses. Defense zone G40-1 had already fallen.
At most, within 48 hours, New Alliance tanks would reach the foot of Hill 330.
The four frontline 1,000-man battalions were currently retreating to defend their positions. Swofte had given him only one order, to cooperate with the retreating units and intercept the New Alliance’s armored forces from breaking into their rear.
Yote was still a bit dazed.
Just two days ago, their allies had been mocking the New Alliance over the radio, tearing them to shreds with ridicule. How had they suddenly broken through the defense lines?!
Regardless, command wasn’t joking with him.
And Yote wasn’t about to joke with his own life either. He immediately dispatched a scout team and a group of engineers to plant explosives at the foot of...
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