The Arabian horse leaps over the rising sand dunes, and an ancient desert inn emerges before the knight. Half of the Ottoman-style domed buildings are buried in yellow sand, but the courtyard is surrounded by stone walls with elaborate moats and half-cut brick and wood lookouts, which still show the world the strength of the empire.

The Arab nobleman immediately stood on the sand dunes, looked down at the destination of the trip, and after making sure that there was nothing unusual, he shook the reins of his horse and rode towards the main entrance of the inn.

His loyal guards would not dare to risk their master, and if His Highness even hurts a single hair, everyone here may lose their heads. So a few loyal Bedouin guards whipped their horses and rushed in front of the nobleman, even if they might be scolded for it, they wanted to keep the highness safe.

This act of loyalty did allow the nobles they were protecting to escape, and no one knew at the time that they had entered the German circle of fire.

The camouflage of the new desert uniforms of the German army proved to be excellent, and until the moment before the Germans opened fire, the Arab cavalry did not detect the ambusher in the ditch tens of meters away.

The first shot was fired by Randolph, who pulled the trigger of the submachine gun with excitement on his face and fired a beautiful burst. The bullets swept through the ranks of the cavalry, and on the spot three horses fell to the ground, and the knights on the horses were caught off guard and fell to the sand, and two of them immediately stopped moving. The surviving Bedouin warrior didn't know if he was lucky or not, and he rolled and wailed in the sand with his hands on his crotch, apparently hurting the vital part.

But the poor fellow soon stopped worrying about the rest of his life, for just as he was turning over and roaring to the sky, a panicked Arabian horse struck him in the face.

Under Randolph's leadership, the Germans entered a shooting frenzy, and the good shooters present, even the pilot Ensign Krieger, who had won the shooting trophy in the flying squadron.

The German folk have always retained the martial spirit of their ancestors, especially in families that have been soldiers for generations, and the boys in the family often receive military education at a very young age, expecting them to continue the honor of their fathers. Krieger's family is like this, although they do not have the Junker nobleman Feng in their name, nor have they produced several high-ranking officers, but they cannot extinguish the family's desire for military merit and honor.

Krieger's family originally planned to let him apply for the Army Military Academy, but he didn't expect him to secretly apply for the Air Force Flying School without telling his family, and there was a lot of turmoil at that time. The second lieutenant of the Air Force has loved to listen to the stories of those air knights in World War I since he was a child, and he has long been determined to become an ace pilot, and now his biggest goal in life has been achieved, and then he is waiting to return to his hometown to get married.

The German ambush was very successful, and the Arab cavalry suffered heavy losses in an instant, seven of the twenty-one cavalry were killed instantly, and a third of the cavalry was wiped out at once. The rest of the men hurriedly drove their mounts to flee in panic, and several of them were wounded. The noble man lost his usual grace, and he whipped his beloved horse like madness, and galloped in the direction from which he came.

The Germans' makeshift positions were in shambles, the corpses of men and horses were strewn fifty meters in front of the trenches, and the neighing of wounded horses echoed in the air. Two non-commissioned officers with gray swords jumped out of the trench with rifles, and they first shot the badly wounded horses to end the suffering of these graceful animals, and then selected the corpse of a Bedouin warrior who was the most well-dressed in the world, and the two men worked together to drag it back to the trench.

"He looks like he should be an officer, look at this dagger, it can be sold for at least a hundred marks in Berlin." Sergeant Grimlock drew his Arab dagger from the corpse's belt and pointed to the intricately carved ivory handle.

"I don't have any papers, no maps, let me see what's in my bag." Jürgen skillfully searched the body, and the former Gestapo, out of professional habit, placed all kinds of gadgets found on the corpse in neat yards on the sand.

"It's tobacco, it smells good, this guy is a connoisseur." Horn opened a small leather pouch, grabbed a pinch of tobacco from it and sniffed it.

"I didn't have much money in my wallet, it was just Egyptian and Turkish nickels." Jürgen loosened the leather cord from the pouch and emptied the contents into his palm.

Saudi Arabia had not yet issued a national currency, and the Arabian Peninsula was still circulated with coins issued by the Ottoman Empire and Egypt, as well as European banknotes. In the past, the most popular was the pound sterling, because it could be used to buy food and weapons from the British, and some time ago, because Germany won the British victory, the German mark is now popular in the Gulf countries.

"This is not an officer, just a soldier with a relatively high status." After examining the deceased's satchel, Jürgen came to this disappointing conclusion.

"I don't know the identities of these guys yet, but I know for sure that they've become our enemies now." Captain Horn said. He spotted a large number of soldiers on foot, climbing over the huge sand dunes in the distance.

"They weren't our friends in the first place." Major Jürgen said to Horn.

"You're right, Major, these people are not our friends." Sergeant Major Merkel picked up his sniper rifle and rested it on the breastwork of the ditch.

"One hundred and fifty to two hundred people, without a uniform uniform, should be the private army of a certain tribe, but I don't know which tribe is near here. What the hell.... Looks like we just missed a big fish. Merkel suddenly shouted excitedly: "The white-robed cavalryman in the middle should be the commander of this army, if we had killed this guy just now, they should have fallen into chaos by now." ”

"It's more likely that all of them rushed to you for revenge, and you don't understand the customs of these Arabs." Jürgen said calmly, slowly twisting the back cover of the grenade in his hand.

"Attention, gentlemen, the enemy forces are now preparing for the attack." Randolph held the binoculars in his hand and had a rare serious expression on his face.

"We don't have a lot of ammunition, so we have to use it sparingly, and we can destroy an enemy with as many bullets as possible." Randolph handed the telescope to Ürgen, who was beside him.

"They're equipped with cavalry, and we don't know if there are any follow-up reinforcements behind these people, we have no way out, gentlemen." Horn pointed out the hard truth, and while everyone knew it, someone had to speak it out publicly.

The Arabs were equipped with cavalry, which meant that the Germans lost the chance to escape, and could not escape the cavalry pursuit on two legs in the desert. The only thing the Germans could do now was to hold their positions, kill and wound as many enemy troops as possible, and delay the battle.

It was a decision to survive, and everyone pinned their hopes on the search force sent by Germany to find them before the station fell. Although this hope seems very slim now, none of the people present are honest and willing to admit defeat, and until the last moment, don't want to shake their confidence in survival.

Randolph was one of the biggest optimists, known for his extraordinarily thick nerves when he was around the Führer, and he never thought that he would die in battle, but he was covered by the boss, who was an apostle sent by God, a god who walked on earth.

The Germans rearranged their positions, and the infantry on the opposite side launched a tidal attack as promised, and the crisp and dense fire of MP submachine guns rang out again over the ancient springs.

PS: Jet lag is really painful, and the author is still working on it.

In addition, tomorrow the author has to go out on errands, and the update has to be suspended for another day, I hope you can understand.