General Sampson could not understand what was happening. He was getting conflicting reports from every direction and everyone seemed to have lost their minds. He could hear fighting to his front and it was clear that either someone had initiated his attack early or, unbelievably, the JP had actually attacked him! What didn’t make sense was the sound of fighting that was coming from their rear. Sampson sent one aide after another to find out what was going on, but so far none of them had returned.

In disgust, Sampson threw down his glasses and stormed out of the tent to assess the situation himself. He saw men running in every direction. Sampson began grabbing soldiers at random as they passed. Most did not even know what they were running from, but Sampson’s harsh insistence that they get themselves under control seemed to calm them considerably.

Where are the officers of these men? asked Sampson to himself. This only proves that I'm being undermined from within. Not even my own officers can be trusted.

Sampson saw one panicky man running towards him. Unlike the others, he looked to have seen action as he was covered in dust and blood. Sampson grabbed the man by the shirt as he passed and used the soldier’s forward momentum to fling him to the ground. The man looked up in shock and some sort of sanity appeared to reassert itself.

“What do you think you’re doing, soldier?” asked Sampson gruffly.

“Sir,” said the man still out of breath as he swallowed with difficulty, “the enemy, they’re everywhere and those tanks are just rolling over everything!”

“Tanks?” asked Sampson. “How many? Where?”

“Three sir, cutting through everything!” the man said before getting up and running on again. Sampson didn’t notice. My tanks! I want them back.

Sampson saw one of his commanders packing up to leave and ordered him to plan an immediate counteroffensive with the goal of recovering the tanks. The officer looked at Sampson like he thought the general had lost his mind; but Sampson didn’t notice the look. He went on talking about crushing the JP now that they had made the mistake of standing and fighting.

This is my chance, what it has all been leading to, thought Sampson. My greatest victory was at hand.

He noticed that the men at least seemed to be running now back towards the front. But they looked just as panicked as they had been while previously running away from it. Something wasn’t right here. He started to stop another soldier when one of his aides finally returned and grabbed Sampson by the arm. Sampson promptly slapped it off furiously.

“Lieutenant, how dare you!” Sampson was outraged. “You touch me again and you’ll regret it!”

“I’m sorry, sir,” said the man suitably cowed, “but it isn’t safe for you here, we have to get you to safety!”

“What are you talking about?” asked Sampson suspiciously.

“Sir, we’re caught between forces. A large force has somehow come up behind us,” said the lieutenant breathlessly. “They are already breaking through our lines and we haven’t much time.”

“We’ve been betrayed!” said Sampson. “How else could they get in behind us?”

“Quite possibly,” admitted the man. “But please, general, we have to get you out of here. The WTR cannot risk you being caught, or heaven forbid, killed. If you are lost, all is lost for us,” the man pleaded.

This last entreaty seemed to penetrate Sampson. “Well, we can build further armies, ones that aren’t so cowardly and do not betray me. What is your plan of escape?”

“Sir,” said the lieutenant with obvious relief. “I have a squad that will take us to a car hidden on a trail over that hill there. So far, none of the enemy has come from that direction and I believe we can escape undetected, but only if we leave now.”

“Okay,” said Sampson convinced. “I approve your plan. Proceed.”

“Thank you, sir.” The lieutenant yelled at several soldiers nearby. They formed a circle around Sampson and the aide. They all set off at a fast walk to the west of the fighting. They proceeded for perhaps ten minutes steadily downhill through dense woods and foliage. At a clearing, the lieutenant stopped the group suddenly. The sounds of fighting were dull and distant now.

“Where is the car?” asked Sampson. “Why are we stopping?”

The lieutenant turned to face him. “It’s up ahead, but I’m afraid you’ve run out of time.”

“What do you mean?” yelled Sampson, clearly angry and frustrated. “Explain yourself!”

The lieutenant seemed totally calm and composed, the distinct opposite of his earlier behavior. Sampson had the faintest sense of unease. He looked around and saw the squad of soldiers in a circle around them facing outwards with their weapons.

The lieutenant stood looking at him silently for several seconds and Sampson was about to repeat his demand when the lieutenant spoke.

“Ethan said to tell you it wasn’t personal.”

Sampson opened his mouth to yell at the man when he raised his arm and shot Sampson in the head with his pistol. Sampson fell to the ground, gasping for air, wondering what had happened.

The lieutenant walked over and stood studying him silently, expressionlessly, before firing three quick rounds into his chest. He then gave the men a quick order and they continued on their way.

General Jeb Sampson lay in the grass dying and already forgotten.