Midnight in the African Rift Valley is hardly a time for sound sleep.
The scorching sun of the day has long sunk, replaced by an endless, suffocating darkness.
Lumar hid in the brigade-level command vehicle, drenched in sweat as if fished out of a cesspool.
Tonight is the crucial moment of his showdown with Song Heping, both decisive and life-threatening!
"Re...Report! Sir! Right flank! Right flank at the limestone! A whole lot of government army infantry has emerged!"
An aide removed his headset, his voice cracking with fear: "They're damn near frantically charging at our left rear flank's soft spot! At least a brigade! Charging...charging like mad dogs! It's a night raid! These bastards have a death wish! It's a suicide assault!"
Lumar, who had been in a state of high tension, jumped up from his chair as if a high-voltage current shot up his backside and dashed to the side monitoring screen.
