Ukraine — Rear Area, July 1941
The roar came at dawn.
Not a gunshot. Not an order. The engine.Deep. Thick. Familiar.
The Panzer IV rumbled back to life under its own weight. The mechanics stepped aside, satisfied. Falk only nodded.
—"Does it work?" Konrad asked as he approached.
—"It works well enough," replied the crew chief. "Don't expect miracles, but it can kill… and bring you home."
Falk ran a hand along the hull. It felt warm. Not like a weapon, but like an old companion that had been wounded too long.
Throughout the day, the crew loaded ammunition, checked cables, cleaned the interior. Helmut recalibrated the radio. Lukas started the engine twice more just to be sure. Ernst carved a small cross into the inside of the hatch.
—"For luck," he said, shrugging.
—"Luck doesn't exist," Konrad replied. "Only aim and armor."
—"And us," Falk added.
By mid-afternoon, the messenger arrived.
An envelope. Frontline seal.Orders.
Falk read without a change in expression. Then passed it to Helmut, who scanned it in silence.
—"We're being redirected to the Bila Tserkva sector. Scattered fighting. Mobile support."
—"More fire?" Ernst asked.
—"No. More chaos. They say the front's fragmented. They need mobility… and resolve."
Falk understood. The fire brigade was going back to work.As always.
Before leaving, the Panzer aligned with two other vehicles. Not from the Leibstandarte. Wehrmacht units. Younger crews. Cleaner uniforms. One of the commanders gave a brief nod.
Falk replied with a look.
Lukas settled into his seat.
—"Ready to get dirty again?"
—"We never stopped being dirty," Konrad said.
Ernst loaded the first shell.
Helmut fixed the frequency.
Falk adjusted his helmet, shut the hatch…and the steel sealed around him.
The Panzer rolled eastward.The mud awaited.So did the war.