Super Cute New To Marvel

Prince Faisal, who is just 40 years old this year, has a huge tribe of tens of thousands of people, and there are dozens of tribes under his command. He is also a thorn in the eyes of the Ottomans, because he also commands the largest size of the Arab rebels.

"You have to remember, try to be respectful, there are a few of your British officers around the prince, but they are all here to eat, drink and have fun, and they are not as powerful as you!" Ali rode a camel and kept telling Fisher that he should pay attention. matters.

"The prince wants to take Damascus now, but the Ottoman wolf king is like a moat to us. No matter how many cavalry or 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 the Ottomans have an air force!" Speaking of this, Ali's eyes suddenly filled with yearning, "Those steady planes are like falcons, coming and going without a trace. , they drop bombs, and they will easily kill those artillerymen!"

"Airplane!" Fisher touched the stubble of his chin. The best aircraft that Ottoman could equip during this period was the Fokker dr1 triplane, but Fisher estimated that relying on Ottoman's financial resources, the triplane could The number of things may be small, but it is very likely that Fokker, who has been eliminated from the European war, is very likely.

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

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

"Heart disease? How are you going?"

"Take Damascus, won't you do it?"

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

"Then can't we just grab these things?"

"You're kidding!" Ali wondered if it was the previous victory that made Fisher flutter a little.

"How do you know if you don't try?" Fisher waved his hand, then swung the pole in his hand, driving the camel to a rush.

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

The two galloped all the way with their entourage, and it took only two days to reach Prince Faisal's site, which is less than 60 kilometers away from Damascus.

"What is that?" Ali, who was waiting for the connector to appear, pointed to a small black spot that was traveling through the canyon.

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

"Quick, give me the machine gun!" Fisher, who had taken the Lewis machine gun, opened the tripod and put the machine gun on the camel's back, ready to give him a shuttle when the Fokker fighter came over, but the Fokker Kee didn't come over, but dropped his head over the canyon.

"what's the situation?"

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

After Fisher followed, all he saw was a scene of several Fokker E fighter jets raging over a huge military camp. Although he could only rely on a bomb thrown by Maxim and the pilot's hand, he could deal with the mess. The Arabs are also enough. The military camps of tens of thousands of people were bombed like this. The frightened camels and war horses ran around. The confused Arab soldiers also lost their armor and looked for bunkers. The samurai in turban and wielding a jeweled machete was chasing after the plane and yelling curses.

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

The top of the roaring Lewis machine gun turned and the .303 brass shells landed at Fisher's feet. Because there was no tracer guide, Fisher could only try to roughly adjust the ballistics. A 47 After the bullet was fired, the left wing of the Fokker E was suddenly missing a piece.

"Hit!" Ali said excitedly, fanning his gun.

"It didn't hit again!"

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

Perhaps after dropping the bomb, or perhaps because Fisher was startled, the Fokker-e fighter jets swayed their wings and flew away quickly.

"Let's go, let's go see this prince!" After the plane left, the riots below the camp gradually subsided. Fisher stuffed the rifled rifle back into the camel's back, followed Ali and trot all the way to Faisal The prince's tent.

"We must retreat!"

Before he could hear his voice, Fisher had not opened the tent curtain when he heard a very heavy English accent.

"We don't have air superiority, we don't have fire superiority, we have to retreat, retreat to Egypt, join up with the Anzac there, and then attack Damascus!"

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

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

"Will that give me some time to think?"

"Retreat? Damascus will be taken in three days, why retreat?" Fisher opened the curtain, walked into the tent, and looked at the crowd of people sitting inside.

"Three days, your name is Lawrence, right? Why, the officers from the Arab Bureau are all braggarts?" A British lieutenant colonel in a neat military uniform stood up and refuted.

"Then the Egyptian front is a bunch of cowards? The soldiers on the European battlefield dared to face the German Maxim, but you were frightened by a few Ottoman planes?"

When Fisher and the British officers were taunting each other, an Arab warrior sitting in the main seat was also looking at Fisher, and then Ali quietly leaned over, and after speaking to him for a while, the Arab warrior stood up.

"Does Mr. Lawrence know what the biggest obstacle to us taking Damascus is?"

"It's nothing more than that armored train and its associated railway gun!"

"Do you have a good strategy to defeat the enemy, sir?"

"Not yet, but give me seven days, and that armored train will no longer be your problem!" Fisher also turned around and looked directly at the Prince Faisal, who was in Fisher's eyes Seeing something he hadn't seen for a long time was the belief in victory.

"Okay, then I'll give you ten days. If that armored train is destroyed, then we'll take Damascus straight, but what if it's not done?"

"Then you can't see me either!"

Seriously, I didn't even know that there are so many professional killers and professional emotion experts among the readers of this book. They have provided me with a lot of detailed industry insider and expert reviews. It's a pity that I call our bookstore owner a quick hit. It's such a shame that I didn't find any work by these professionals

One more night