January 12, 916, at 01005 hours, at the Eleventh Army Group Headquarters of Prosen under blackout.
General Xiplin, holding a candlestick, used the dim light to look at the map.
"What kind of enchanting soup did we drink to think such a large-scale assault was a feint?" the general said in a self-mocking tone. "I can't say whether Rocossov is a master of war, but he certainly understands the human heart, having completely outmaneuvered us."
"What should we do then? Hold our ground?" the Chief of Staff asked.
The General: "We tried counterattacks before, and the results were not good, were they? Even with two tank divisions from Army Group A supporting us, we still have too few tanks.
"Rocossov hasn't deployed his Whirlwind yet, and our counterattacking forces have been going back and forth with the Anteans' anti-tank and tank units. Although we claim to have inflicted losses five times our own, what use is that?
