The 37th Division's headquarters was not far from the city proper, and it had a telephone line directly connected to the city government.
By the time it received the city government's request, the 37th Division had already dispatched two battalions toward Sicheslav City.
The commander of the 37th Division shouted into the receiver, "Mayor Filatov, you'd better clearly explain what's happening in the city. What exactly happened in Sicheslav City? Why did a group of enemies of unknown origin suddenly appear? Where did their weapons come from? They even dared to directly attack the city's arsenals."
Mayor Filatov, who was being lectured, sat tensely on the sofa in loose pajamas.
Facing the 37th Division commander's questioning, he answered hesitantly, "General Maleyle, I was also just awakened by the gunfire and came to the city government immediately. It's only a little past three in the morning. All of Sicheslav City is pitch-black, and most people are long asleep at this hour."
"In these circumstances, we need some time to figure out what is happening. But there is bad news: we have lost contact with the police station. Otherwise, I would not have rashly called you."
Commander Maleyle said, "You idiot, the police station has probably already been wiped out in one fell swoop by the enemy. I've received reports that the enemy is attacking two arsenals in the city."
"We have three platoons stationed at the arsenals, nearly a full company. That means the enemy has at least a hundred men and is armed. Otherwise, they would never have had the nerve to split their forces. Your police station is probably doomed."
The words of Maleyle, commander of the 37th Division, immediately sent a chill sweeping through Mayor Filatov's entire body.
At this moment, Filatov was not considering whether his political