At dusk, Bahar's small fishing boat set off, carrying only two guards, a communications team, and a radio. By nightfall, he had landed on the western side of the trench line.

Bahar's arrival was met with overwhelming enthusiasm from the soldiers and local civilians. His presence was like a shot of adrenaline to those on the brink of collapse. Bahar proclaimed loudly to the troops:

"Brave soldiers, the enemy may have blocked our roads on land, but they cannot sever our supply lines from the sea!"

"I crossed over safely, bringing food with me!" He gestured as his men lifted bags of flour from the boat and placed them before the soldiers.

The previously despondent Ottoman soldiers and militia erupted into cheers. Bahar continued, raising his voice to reach everyone:

"By night, we can ferry food and ammunition here using wooden boats and fishing vessels—this is no difficult feat!"

"But we need two days to build enough boats."

"We just have to hold out for two days, and everything will change. Victory will be ours in the end!"

The cheers grew louder. Bahar had given them hope—a hope for victory, and more importantly, a hope to survive.

Yet only Bahar knew that the wooden boats and fishing vessels he mentioned were nothing more than a fiction. In the daytime, Allied seaplanes would easily spot these boats, and battleships stationed miles away would quickly sink them. At night, the Ottoman coastal artillery wouldn't be able to track the vessels on the dark sea, leaving the Allied destroyers free to blockade the shore from all sides.

This was why Bahar had chosen to depart at dusk, taking advantage of the brief lull as day turned to night, when British vigilance might be at its lowest, affording him a safe passage.

...

The rumble of artillery echoed through the trenches.

Inside a bunker, Charles lay resting on a makeshift bed cobbled together from ammunition crates, his head propped on his knapsack. He hadn't dared take out his blanket, as it would soon become unusable in the damp.

A stump left behind by Ottoman troops served as a nightstand, on which rested an oil lamp, its smoky flame flickering, filling the cramped space with a sharp, acrid odor. Once, Charles might have found the smell unbearable, but now, it seemed almost comforting, masking the blood and rot that drifted in from outside.

Staring blankly at the wooden planks supporting the bunker ceiling, Charles mulled over the state of the enemy forces at A Point. Since the fleet had entered the Gulf of Saros, it had bombarded A Point intermittently for hours. Even at night, the heavy shells continued to rain down sporadically.

Charles had assumed that the Ottomans would surrender by nightfall. After all, most of the troops were militiamen, engineers, and logistical units, none of whom had been trained for intense combat. Now trapped, they should be breaking soon.

Nightfall seemed their best opportunity—under the cover of darkness, they could abandon their positions and sneak across the no man's land to surrender. But to Charles's surprise, it was already past eight, and barely a handful of Ottoman militiamen had surrendered. Among them were two Anzacs who'd been captured by the Ottomans and forced to work in the trenches; they'd managed to escape and turn themselves in.

What was keeping them from surrendering? Was it courage? Or the drive to defend their homeland?

At that moment, a shadow moved at the entrance to the bunker. Charles instinctively reached for his rifle, his finger on the trigger before he even had a clear view.

"Whoa, Colonel, it's just me." Tijani's voice was slightly tense. "Relax, Adrian is stationed at the entrance. No one's getting in here."

Tijani regretted his entrance immediately—he'd forgotten that today was Charles's first day in battle. Newcomers were often overly anxious, ready to shoot at any sound or movement.

Charles exhaled in relief and set his rifle down, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Sorry, General. I don't know what's gotten into me."

"It's normal," Tijani replied, settling himself into a chair. "You'll get used to it after a while."

"Maybe," Charles said, though he doubted he ever would.

Tijani moved on from the topic. He held a folder containing a transcript of a recent interrogation with one of the Ottoman soldiers who had surrendered.

"It's been confirmed," he said, passing the document to Charles. "Your plan was solid, but the enemy has taken countermeasures."

Charles leaned in to read, noticing a name that caught his attention. "Bahar?"

"Yes." Tijani collapsed onto a pile of sandbags beside Charles, letting out a sigh of relief as he settled in. "Remember when we got stuck for nearly twenty minutes at Bucier Village? It was Bahar's doing—he disobeyed orders to personally rally the troops and hold the line."

Charles nodded thoughtfully—this man had skill.

"He's a colonel," Tijani continued. "By rank, he should be at least a brigadier or even a major general. He directly commands three divisions, with indirect authority over another three."

In wartime, talented officers were often given expanded command responsibilities without immediate promotion.

Tijani added, "He arrived at A Point by sea after dark, and the Ottomans are hailing him as a war hero. He's assured the troops that he'll open up a supply route across the sea."

Charles understood immediately—Bahar had stabilized the situation at A Point by giving the troops false hope.

Charles frowned. If the enemy at A Point did not surrender, Allied reinforcements would have nowhere to land, leaving only a few thousand men to bolster Charles's line. Any more, and they'd be cramped, making them easy targets for Ottoman artillery.

Tijani gulped down water from his canteen and lay back down, his voice growing faint with fatigue. "Bahar told them to hold out for two days… Do you think we can last that long?"

Charles pondered for a moment before responding. "Your understanding of 'hold out for two days' might be off."

"Hm?" Tijani muttered, half-asleep.

"You're interpreting it to mean Bahar has asked them to endure for two days because that's all they're capable of. So, you think if we hold the line for two days, the Ottomans will collapse."

"Isn't that what he meant?" Tijani murmured.

Charles allowed himself a small smile. "There's another possibility: two days from now, the enemy expects to break through our defenses. Bahar asked them to hold out until then, not because they have no choice, but because they're counting on it."

It took Tijani a few seconds to process this. Then he shot up, staring at Charles in shock. "You mean… the initiative is with the enemy? We have only two days to force their surrender?"

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