A room had been cleared on the second floor of the post station as the commander's temporary office, and the furnishings in the room were extremely simple, with a long folding table in the middle of the room, two German iron filing cabinets in the corner, and a small wooden desk against the wall, on which were placed two field telephones and a brown briefcase.

The original carved panes of the room had been lost, and the sappers had temporarily nailed two thin curtains to the window frames to shield them from the blazing sunlight and the dust blowing in the wind.

Dougan walked over to the folding table, took off his military hat and placed it on the table.

"Sit." The SS colonel said, pointing to the two folding chairs placed in front of the table.

"Thank you, sir." Randolph and Jürgen hurriedly pulled out their chairs and sat down.

"This is a telegram that I just received in the morning." Dougan tapped his finger at a telegram on the table, then shoved the paper in front of Randolph.

Randolph reached out and picked up the telegram, looked up at the Colonel, and then lowered his head to read.

"How's going on on your side, Major Jürgen." Dougan turned his gaze to the former Gestapo.

"Unlike the prince, these two captives are quite stubborn, they are both devout religious believers, and it will take me some time to pry their mouths open." Jürgen was unusually respectful, and the SS colonel in front of him had privileges in his hands that ordinary people could not imagine.

Dougan had shown Jürgen the Führer's warrant that he could mobilize any German force deployed in the Middle East if Dogen wanted to, not even Admiral Küchler.

"I'll only give you six hours, Major Jürgen." Dougan sat down in his chair.

"Sir, this time is a little tight, I can only do my best." Jürgen frowned.

"It's not an effort, it's a matter of getting the information we need, Major." Dogan picked up the military kettle on the table and shook it slightly.

"Why are you in such a hurry, Colonel Dogen, can you tell me why?" Jürgen asked suspiciously.

"Because the Yuan is coming, Jürgen." Randolph replied with a telegram in his hand.

"You mean Your Excellency? The Führer of the Greater German Reich?! He's coming here? This desert station?! Jürgen was frightened by what he heard.

"Of course, there will be any other Führer who would do that." Randolph's face was full of adoration.

"There is nothing to make a fuss about when the Führer visits the front, he often did this in the French campaign, nothing can stop him, even in the midst of a hail of bullets, the Führer remains calm." Dogen also had a look of reverence.

"The Führer had no regard for his own personal safety for the rise of the German Empire, so we must shoulder the difficult task of keeping the Führer safe at all costs." The tone of the SS colonel was unequivocal.

"That's why you're constantly moving troops here, Colonel." It dawned on Jürgen.

"The defensive force here is still not enough, and the Führer's trip this time is very hurried, and he has not been able to bring all the guard flag corps." Dogan unscrewed the lid of the kettle.

"Colonel, the Führer is in a hurry to come here for the sake of that Prince El Fasher and the things we have found?" Jürgen leaned forward and asked in a whisper.

"Major, this is not something you can speculate on." Dogan reminded with a serious expression.

"I see, Colonel Dogan." Jürgen hurriedly bowed in greetings.

"Okay, you can go to work, there's not much time left for you." Dawn waved his hand and motioned for the Major to leave.

"Also, don't spread what you hear in this room."

"Yes, Colonel Dogen. Hi! Reinhart! Jürgen stood up and gave a salute, then strode out of the room.

The makeshift office was now without a door, and two SS soldiers stood outside with guns.

"Looks like we're going to have a good show this time." Jürgen twisted his stiff neck, and there was a cold chill in his eyes.

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Abdul's wish was not fulfilled, and instead of dying like a Bedouin warrior, he was captured alive by a powerful enemy.

On the way to retreat, the Arab Forbidden Army ran headlong into a British paratrooper on the way. It was a bloody battle of hand-to-hand combat, with a huge disparity in strength between the two sides, and although the Forbidden Army had suffered heavy losses in the previous battle, it was still outnumbered by twice the strength of the opposing side.

However, the outcome of the battle was not what Abdul expected, and the British paratroopers, though small in number, had an impressive firepower, in addition to three standard Bren light machine guns, and six American-made Thomsons, all of which were powerful versions with 100 rounds of drums.

The automatic fire of the paratroopers is like a steel broom, leaving no grass in its pass. After a fierce exchange of fire for only half a minute, the Arab slave army was crushed in one fell swoop, and the surviving black slave soldiers abandoned their weapons and ammunition, abandoned their loyal masters, spread their long legs and began to flee in all directions.

The battlefield was littered with corpses, the wounded clutched their wounds and howling in despair, and the smell of blood and internal organs in the air, and Prince El Fasher lost the courage and hope to continue fighting.

At this moment, there were only two loyal Bedouin guards left by the prince's side, and one of them was the leader of the guard, Abdul. Hussein. Their mounts had already been killed by British snipers during the battle, and if it weren't for the shooters' discovery that they were dressed differently and looked like big fish, it might not have been the heads of the three Arabian horses that had been blown up.

"Surrender, Abdul, there is no value in dying like this, I can make my family pay a ransom for us." El Fasher pulled out the Arab scimitar from his waist and threw it on the sand.

This is a tradition followed by desert peoples, and the defeated can pay a ransom to the other side to redeem their freedom and life. In battles between desert tribes, captured enemies were rarely slaughtered unless there was a feud between them, and the rich nobles could pay the ransom, while the non-rich would be sold into slavery to compensate for the losses of the victors. The Arab slave trade was once very prosperous, and into the twenty-first century, the Arab world still secretly maintained the tradition of slavery.

For the first time in his life, Abdul went against the wishes of his master, and he did not want to bear the shame of being captured by the enemy, so he drew his scimitar at his waist and threw himself at the paratroopers. But this time he made a mistake again, and the other party was not a rookie on the battlefield who was not good at fighting, but an elite army with strict training. Abdul didn't survive two rounds before he was struck in the head with the butt of a rifle that sent the Bedouin warrior to the ground unconscious, and when he woke up, he was in the enemy barracks.

At this time, in addition to the three El Fasher, who were captured by the paratroopers, the German armored platoon that went to intercept them also brought back five separated Janissan slaves, and the German infantry found three wounded Guards knights from the pile of corpses outside the station, as well as a dozen Arab servants who were forced to surrender to the German tanks.

Interestingly, there was an Arab soldier named Merzoug, who was one of the few slaves of Arab descent in the Forbidden Army.

Originally a warrior of a small tribe in Iraq, Merzoug was captured in an encounter with desert bandits, and his fellow tribe comrades were killed in the battle. Merzoug was sold to a slave trader by horse thieves, and because of his skills and martial arts, he was sold to the Saudi royal family and became a slave guard directly under the king.

This strong slave warrior was soon promoted to captain of the Ten for his loyalty in the forbidden army, but no one could have imagined that this slave soldier had a secret buried in his heart, and he had been looking for an opportunity to escape back to his homeland to be reunited with his wife and children.

Merzoug was the only Praetorian Guard soldier to surrender to the Germans, and he confessed to the Germans everything he knew, about why His Royal Highness was here, and about the mysterious mission of the army.

PS: Thank you for your support, the author continues to work hard.