Chapter 751: Finding a White Flag

"Surrender?"

The soldier nodded frantically.

The tank operator pointed east.

"Run east. Run fifty kilometers; there's a POW camp."

The soldier was stunned.

The tank operator shouted, "Run! Don't block the way!"

The soldier got up and ran east. After a few steps, he suddenly turned back, looked at the tank and the tank operator, as if wanting to say something.

But the tank had already driven away.

He stood there, stunned for three seconds, then kept running.

At dusk, a British Army major led dozens of soldiers into a hollow.

They had been running all day and could no longer move. The major decided to rest here for a while and leave after nightfall.

But before night fell, the pursuers arrived.

A Lanfang tank appeared at the edge of the hollow. Its turret turned and aimed at them.

The major raised his hand and shouted, "Don't fire! We surrender!"

The tank stopped.

The tank operator stuck his head out of the turret, looking at the dozens of people in the hollow raising their hands.

"Run east. Run fifty kilometers; there's a POW camp."

The major was stunned.

"So... you're just letting us go?"

The tank operator looked at him, his gaze containing something indescribable.

"We don't have time to capture you. Run in yourself. Don't let us see you again."

The major was silent for three seconds.

Then he turned and said to the soldiers behind him, "Move, eastward."

Dozens of men got up and ran east.

The tank operator watched the silhouettes receding into the distance and shook his head.

Chief of Staff Li Tiejun stuck his head out of a nearby tank and asked, "Why not capture them?"

The tank operator scratched his head.

"Capture them? We don't have that many people to guard prisoners. Let them run in themselves; it's simpler."

Li Tiejun smiled.

"Fine, simpler."

He patted the tank's turret.

"Go, continue the chase."

On the night of February 16, British Army soldiers were still running.

The moonlight was bright, shining on the desert with a grim white glow. The running silhouettes were especially clear in the moonlight, like a herd of pursued ghosts.

Someone kept running, then suddenly fell and could not get up. People beside him ran past; no one stopped to help.

Someone could no longer run, sat on the ground, watching those still running with a hollow stare. A tank rolled in from afar; he closed his eyes and waited for death.

The tank passed by him without stopping.

He opened his eyes and stared there, stunned.

The tank had already moved far away.

He struggled to get up and kept running.

A young soldier kept running, then suddenly remembered something. He fished a photo from his pocket and glanced at it.

The photo showed a blonde girl with a sweet smile.

He pressed the photo to his chest and kept running.

While running, a stray bullet struck his back.

He fell, and the photo slipped from his hand onto the sand.

Moonlight fell on the photo, illuminating the young face.

The girl was still smiling.

He could see nothing else.

In the early hours of February 17, the sky began to lighten.

Zhao Dengyu stood on a tank, holding a binocular and watching the sand dunes ahead drawing nearer. Behind him, the pursuers kept going. Two days and one night, they had chased two hundred kilometers. The tank's tracks were worn thin, the truck's tires had blown, and the soldiers' soles were full of blood blisters.

But no one stopped.

Because they were fast, they were about to catch up.

Li Tiejun ran over and handed a water flask.

"Commander, have a drink. You haven't slept in two days."

Zhao Dengyu took the flask, gulped a large mouthful, and wiped his mouth.

"How much farther?"

Li Tiejun pointed at the map.

"It's still thirty kilometers to Ge Na Ye. Recon reports that about fifty thousand British Army troops have escaped."

Zhao Dengyu nodded.

"Fifty thousand. From four hundred thousand, only fifty thousand remain."

He put down the telescope and looked at the soldiers who were resting.

"Tell the brothers to push harder. Once we reach Ge Na Ye, we can rest."

Li Tiejun nodded, turned around and went to give the order.

Zhao Dengyu continued to watch the sky ahead growing brighter.

It's getting close.

It's getting close.

9 a. m. on February 17, outside Ge Na Ye City.

Liu Zhenjie stood on a high ground, holding a telescope and watching the crowd surging in the distance.

Fifty thousand British Army troops were surging toward Ge Na Ye from the west.

They had been running for two days and one night, each person exhausted. Some collapsed while running and could not get up. Some ran foaming at the mouth yet kept running. Some ran in a daze, muttering "water… water…", then fell headlong.

In the telescope, every face was full of despair.

Liu Zhenjie put down the telescope and took a deep breath.

"Relay to all units: prepare for battle."

Behind him, eighteen thousand Lanfang soldiers formed a strict line, ready.

A machine gun was mounted on the sand dune, its barrel aimed at the surging crowd. The mortar adjusted its angle, a Shell placed beside it. Riflemen lay in the trench, fingers on the triggers.

No one spoke.

Only the sound of wind over the dunes and the growing clamor from afar.

The first wave of British Army reached outside Ge Na Ye City.

They saw the flag atop the city—the Lanfang golden dragon flag—rustling in the morning wind.

They were stunned.

Then someone knelt and cried.

More people knelt and cried.

After two days and one night, three hundred kilometers, hundreds of thousands died, they finally arrived at Ge Na Ye.

But Ge Na Ye was not hope, but despair.

A British Army Colonel walked to the front of the line, looked at the ready Lanfang positions, then turned to glance at the pursuing troops surging behind.

No road forward, no gate backward.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Then he opened his eyes and said to the soldiers beside him:

"Go, find a white flag."

Allenbi stood in the middle of the crowd.

His uniform was tattered, his face covered in dust and sweat, his eyes bloodshot. For two days and one night he had not slept, not eaten, not drunk. He kept running, running with his soldiers.

But now, he could not run any more.

He stared at the distant Lanfang positions, at the golden dragon flag fluttering in the wind, at the black, gaping muzzles.

He suddenly recalled the words he had said three days earlier.

"Four hundred thousand will press through; Lanfang cannot stop them."

Now?

Four hundred thousand, now only fifty thousand remain.

The rest all died in that desert.

Chief of Staff Leiden walked over, drenched in blood, a deep wound on his face.

"General, what shall we… what do we do?"

Allenbi looked at him and was silent for three seconds.

Then he said, "Find a white flag."

Leiden was stunned.

"General? You—"

Allenbi waved his hand.

"Execute the order."

10 a. m. on February 17, outside Ge Na Ye City.

Zhao Dengyu's pursuers had arrived.

Over five hundred tanks lined up behind the British Army, their barrels aimed at those with no escape. Infantry followed the tanks, rifles raised, awaiting the final order.

Zhao Dengyu stood on a tank, holding a telescope and watching the besieged British Army ahead.

Fifty thousand people crowded on the sand outside Ge Na Ye, like a flock of slaughtered sheep.