Severing the Tail to Survive

Ugsul. The Eighth Division of the rebel army had already thrown up rudimentary fortifications on the spot, waiting quietly for the French to arrive.

Inside the command post, Lieutenant Colonel Huthier pointed at the sand table with his baton and said, "According to the scouts' reports, the enemy stopped advancing thirty li away. Clearly, they have already discovered us. The enemy is highly vigilant. Cancel the ambush plan we prepared earlier at once."

The French had operated in Egypt for a long time and naturally had no shortage of trusted local followers. There was simply no way to keep the Eighth Division's appearance in Ugsul secret.

After suffering a crushing defeat, the French army had become like birds startled by the mere twang of a bowstring. The slightest rustle would put them on guard. Ambushing them was no longer possible.

Falkenhayn complained, "Who knows what those idiots in the rear were doing, letting such a once-in-a-thousand-years opportunity slip away for nothing."

The ambush plan itself depended on pursuers being behind the enemy. Only when chased by the enemy would the French have no time to think, blindly rushing into the ambush zone in their panic.

Unfortunately, the rebel army moved too slowly. By the time they reacted, the French had already fled dozens of kilometers away.

One step late, every step late. The rebel army's marching speed had been abysmal to begin with; once the distance widened, they naturally could not catch up to the French, who were desperate to save their own skins.

The fact that the French could still make camp after realizing something was wrong was enough to show that the pursuers behind them were not putting them under much pressure.

Potiorek spoke fairly. "That is normal. Blowing up the Aswan Dam did not merely deal the