The smoke of the surrender still lingered when the front roared back to life.
It wasn't an ambush. It was worse: an organized response, a well-coordinated counterattack from British units still holding out to the south. A strike in the late afternoon, with mobile artillery and light tanks hidden among the dunes.
Falk had barely reorganized his men after processing the prisoners when the first shells landed.
—"Take cover!" Helmut shouted over the radio.
Vogel's Panzer IV, equipped with a long-barrel gun, took a direct hit to the side. The shell didn't fully penetrate, but the explosion ripped part of the chassis and sent fragments flying through the interior. The tank came to a halt, smoking, with no sign of movement for several agonizing seconds.
—"Panzer IV hit! Crew trapped inside!" Ernst reported.
Falk didn't hesitate. His own tank surged forward, positioning itself as a shield while Konrad fired two shells in quick succession to suppress the enemy.
From the damaged tank, the crew emerged one by one—bloody, but alive. Two were helped out, limping; another crawled out, shrapnel in his leg.
—"Any dead?" Falk asked as they regrouped at the rear.
—"No. By some miracle. But they're out," Helmut replied.
Vogel stood unsteadily, a makeshift bandage wrapped around his head.
—"I'm sorry…" he muttered.
Falk stared at him.
—"Are you breathing?"
—"Yes, sir."
—"Then don't apologize."
The gunfire stopped after several tense minutes. The enemy was retreating, but the message was clear: the fight wasn't over.
Helmut watched the thick smoke rising from the destroyed Panzer IV.
—"Another one down."
—"Yes," Falk replied flatly. "And it won't be the last."
He looked to the horizon.
And knew that Alexandria was still far away.