"They're fanatics! Utter fanaticism!"
Igoumensita said nothing. He merely glared at his underling and put his overcoat on.
"We couldn't hold them. There was furious fighting. The air was filled with smoke and fire. The ground was covered with bodies."
The older Greek took out a cigar and lit it, placing it in his mouth. Pantermalis was turning red in the eyes. His excuses were coming out like water from a broken dam.
"The English were supporting them. I could have taken on the German army. It's the Limeys that turned the tide. Give me one more chance. Give me two or three more divisions and I'll plow them over."
"Can't spare anything," Igoumensita said finally, "All of our troops are engaged elsewhere. Polish partisans, the Ivans, the Africans. We're at war with two super powers now, Pantermalis. I haven't got a company to spare. Gremlins have gotten to the Eastern Army."
"Well, well, what can we do?"
"What can we do? We? We can demote you to lieutenant general. We can order the invasion of England to end. We will order all the troops in England to sail directly to the Baltic states. After that, we can take our box of cigars to our personal helicopter and head back to the Eastern Bloc.
“You, on the other hand, you can stay here and order the army back from all of Germany, going through Berlin. You can keep one half of a division and defend Berlin until the rest of the army escapes to safety. Then you can come to Eastern territory, if you are still alive. You are dismissed."
Igoumensita turned without saluting or receiving Pantermalis' salute, and left.
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