No. 330 high ground, dusk had just fallen.
Sitting on the bench in the observation post, Centurion Yote of the 11th Support Squadron was staring out of the observation window at the Gobi desert gradually being enveloped by night, lost in thought.
A few hours ago, he received news from the frontline command that the savage Alliance had concentrated all its forces to launch a surprise attack on the Army's defense line, and position G40-1 had already fallen.
In no more than 48 hours, the Alliance's tanks would be at the foot of No. 330 high ground.
The four thousand-man teams at the front were retreating to the rear defense, and the task Softe had entrusted to him was only one—to coordinate with the retreating troops and block the Alliance's armored units from breaking into their own lines.
Yote was a bit stunned.
The day before, their allies were still bashing the Alliance over the radio, beating them black and blue, so how had they suddenly been breached?
