Prince Faisal, who is just forty years old, has a huge tribe of tens of thousands of people, and dozens of tribes under his command, and he is also a thorn in the side of the current Ottomans, because he also commands the largest Arab rebel army at present.

"You have to remember, try to be respectful, the prince has a few of your British officers around him, but they are all here to eat, drink and have fun, not as good as you!" Ali rode his camel and kept telling Fisher what to look out for.

"The prince is now bent on taking Damascus, but the wolf king of the Ottomans is like a trench for us, no matter how many cavalry and infantry we have, we are vulnerable in front of the wolf king!"

"What about your artillery, didn't the British government sell you some artillery?"

"It's useless, the wolf king's artillery has a longer range, and besides, the Ottomans still have an air force!" Speaking of this, Ali's eyes were suddenly full of yearning, "Those steady planes are like falcons, coming and going without a trace, they drop bombs, and they will easily kill those artillerymen!" ”

"Airplanes!" Fisher touched the stubble on his chin, the best aircraft that the Ottoman could equip during this period was the Fokker DR1 triplane, but Fisher estimated that relying on the Ottoman's financial resources, the number of triplanes may be very small, but it is very likely that the Fokker E has been eliminated in the European War.

"But Prince Faisal should like these gifts from you, we need a victory, because we have been passive, the prince is not very happy, and those vassal tribes also have their ideas!"

"Don't worry, I'm here to give your prince a heart attack this time!"

"Heart disease? How are you going to get there? ”

"Won't it be enough to take Damascus?"

"But there are tens of thousands of Ottoman defenders in Damascus, they have artillery, armored trains, and planes!"

"Shall we just snatch these things up?"

"You're kidding!" Ali thinks it must be the previous victory that made Fisher a little fluttering.

"How do you know if you don't try?" Fisher waved his hand, then shook the pole in his hand, and drove the camel all the way.

Looking at Fisher's distant back, Ali suddenly had a feeling, maybe Fisher could really do it?

The two galloped with their retinue and reached Prince Faisal's territory, less than sixty kilometers from Damascus, in just two days.

"What's that?" Ali, who was waiting for the connector to appear, pointed to a small black dot that was weaving through the canyon.

"That's a Fokker fighter!" Fisher jumped off the camel almost instantly, then dragged Ali off and led the camel to the bottom of the mountain.

"Quick, give me the machine gun!" Fisher, who had taken the Louis machine gun, pulled the tripod and placed the machine gun on the camel's back, ready to give him a shuttle when the Fokker came, but the Fokker E did not come, but turned its head over the canyon.

"What's the situation?"

"That's Prince Faisal's camp!" Ali woke up from a dream, turned over and mounted his camel, and hurried over.

When Fisher followed, what he saw was the scene of several Fokker E fighters wreaking havoc over a huge barracks, although licking the ground could only rely on a bomb thrown by Makqin and the pilot's hand, but it was enough to deal with the messy Arabs, tens of thousands of military camps were blown up like this, frightened camels and horses fled in all directions, and the dizzy Arab soldiers also lost their armor and looked for cover everywhere, and in the crowd, a samurai riding a war horse, wearing a white turban and wielding a gemstone scimitar was chasing the plane and scolding.

"Alas!" Fisher could only kick Ali in the crook of the leg to get him to his knees, and then let Ali grab the tripod of the machine gun and pull the trigger on the nearest Fokker E.

The top cartridge disc of the roaring Louis machine gun rotated, and the brass shells of .303 clanged down at Fisher's feet, because there was no tracer bullet to guide him, Fisher could only try to roughly adjust the trajectory, and after a 47-round cartridge was fired, the left wing of the Fokker E was suddenly missing.

"Hit!" Ali fanned the muzzle cigarette and said excitedly.

"Didn't hit it again!"

Fisher dropped Louis, took a Lee Enfield from the camel's back, and continued to shoot.

Perhaps it was because they had dropped their bombs, or perhaps they were startled by Fisher, and the Fokker E fighters shook their wings and flew away quickly.

"Let's go, let's go see this prince!" After the plane left, the commotion below the camp subsided, and Fisher shoved his loaded rifle back into the camel's back and trotted with Ali to Prince Faisal's camp.

"We must retreat!"

Before anyone could hear it, Fisher heard a very strong British accent before he could lift the curtain on the tent.

"We have no air superiority, no firepower superiority, we must retreat, retreat to Egypt, rendezvous with the Anzac there, and then come and attack Damascus!"

"But I can't leave my people alone!" Another voice retorted.

"If Your Highness chooses to go his own way, then the British Empire will not continue to provide support!" The British accent threatened again.

"Can that give me some time to think?"

"Retreat? Why retreat when it is clear that Damascus can be taken in three days? Fisher lifted the curtain and walked into the tent, looking at the people sitting inside.

"Three days, your name is Lawrence, right, what's the matter, the officers who came out of the Arab Bureau are braggart kings?" A British lieutenant colonel in a crisp military uniform stood up and retorted.

"Then the Egyptian front is a bunch of cowards? The soldiers on the European battlefield dared to face the Germans Makqin, and you were frightened by a few Ottoman planes? ”

As Fisher and the British officer taunted each other, one of the Arab warriors sitting in the throne was also looking at Fisher, and then Ali quietly leaned over and spoke to him before the Arab warrior stood up.

"Then does Mr. Lawrence know what the biggest obstacle is to our taking Damascus?"

"It's nothing more than that armored train and its accompanying railroad guns!"

"Does the gentleman have a good plan to break the enemy?"

"Not yet, but give me seven days, and that armored train won't be your problem anymore!" Fisher also turned and looked directly at the prince Faisal, who saw in Fisher's eyes something he hadn't seen in a long time, and that was the belief of victory.

"Okay, then I'll give you ten days, if we destroy that armored train, then we'll go straight to Damascus, but what if not?"

"Then you won't see me!"