"Yes! It's working! They're falling back! We're actually gaining ground! Lieutenant, you're amazing!"
Qahira ruffled Yutas' hair vigorously.
"Sir," she said, blushing and rearranging her hair.
"It's working brilliantly, lieutenant. There's a promotion in this for you. I can foresee it."
"Oh, uh, thank you, sir."
The Allied troops were running away. Not even staying to see how many tanks there were. For once their technology was a hindrance to them, not an advantage. Wily. Just like the Desert Fox. Who else would have thought to fool a scanner but he or Erwin Rommel? Who else?
"Just like Rommel, sir," said Yutas.
Qahira looked at her suddenly.
"What did you say?"
She blushed again.
"Well, sir, it's just like Erwin Rommel, an old German commander. He's sort of a hero of mine."
Qahira nodded and smiled. He looked up and saw three Allied tanks retreating from just one of his. Turning away to show their weak back armor to the single African tank, which they thought was a group of ten. Qahira’s tank fired twice, and blew one to hell. The other two soon followed.
“I came here to know what the Carthaginians felt when they were here, what the English felt, what the Germans felt. I came to see the sands stained with blood, and know victory. Now I do.”
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