The enemy got close but then broke again. But they retreated in an orderly manner in the same pattern but going in reverse.
"They're determined!" Twenty Ponies sighed. He looked at his watch. 10 o'clock. They'd held three hours. This time they suffered no casualties, again some minor wounds.
"What are they going to try next?" he thought. Why hadn't they used their last tank? Maybe it was damaged.
Turtles came up with a package of cold rations and held it out. Ponies took it, drained the water package into his canteen, opened the food section and began to eat. It was a granola type affair, and it wasn't bad.
"I can't understand," he told Turtles, "they're not using all of their forces. They're constantly throwing a thousand men or a thousand five hundred at us. Why don't they make an all out push?"
"Maybe they're trying to save something for later," Turtles remarked. "They're trying to get to the ridge. If too many of them get killed here, it might not be worth the effort."
"You know," Twenty Ponies remarked, "you're probably right. I wouldn't doubt you're right!" He looked at his watch. 10:30. "Where in the hell are they?" he muttered. But 10:45 passed and 11:00.
"Four hours!" Ponies moaned.
Suddenly somebody cried "Vehicle! Vehicle!" Ponies shifted position and took a quick look!

Page 6