"Sir, the sewage treatment plant has been retaken."
Hearing the staff officer's words, Mountbatten looked up, shifting his attention from the map and reports on the desk.
Compared with before the war, he seemed to have aged more than a decade. His hair was dry, his skin loose, making him look like a haggard middle-aged man tortured by life.
Yet his spirit had not aged. On the contrary, it seemed to have grown younger and stronger, as had his gaze, which shone with a piercing light like a burning torch.
"When?"
His voice was slightly hoarse, but his words remained clear.
"The message came in at six this morning."
The staff officer paused, then continued:
"But..."
"..."
Mountbatten did not waste a single word.
"Sir, I believe it is necessary to emphasize that we no longer have enough troops to defend that place."
Mountbatten said nothing, merely staring at the map for ten seconds.
"What is the situation with the Second Regiment?"
"Since last night, the Orks have launched five consecutive charges against their positions. Each one was larger than the last. The Second Regiment now has only 371 soldiers and officers still able to fight, including seventy-five wounded. Some of them are even seriously wounded..."
Mountbatten fell silent for a moment.
"What about the Green Devils?"
"They are willing to help defend the place, but their numbers are severely depleted. During the recapture of the sewage treatment plant, they lost fifty-one men. They now have only forty-six left. The rest of the wounded have been evacuated to the rear."
"Mm..."
After lightly tapping the desk three times with his fingers, the commander of the First Division made up his mind.
"Transfer eighty men from the military police company, along with two mortar squads and three machine-gun squads."
"Sir..."
"Since