Mediterranean Sea – Aboard the military transport "Ostwind"January 10, 1943
The ship didn't rock violently, but the sound of the hull cutting through water was constant. Falk sat on the deck, boots resting on an empty ammo crate. He wasn't writing. He wasn't speaking. He simply stared at the sea, as if trying to decipher it.
A few meters away, the rest of the platoon shared silence and cigarette smoke. There were other soldiers on deck, but no one disturbed the men of the Leibstandarte. It wasn't fear—it was respect.
—"I don't believe it," Helmut said, breaking the silence. "France. Winter. Heating. Fresh bread. Are we sure this isn't a trap?"
—"If it is," Konrad replied, "let it at least come with hot soup."
—"I just want to sleep without sand in my teeth," added Ernst.
Vogel, leaning against the railing, looked out at the horizon.
—"What if it's over?"
The veterans looked at him. Konrad let out a humorless laugh.
—"Kid, if it were over, they wouldn't be sending us to France. They'd have left us in Cairo with a medal."
—"They're sending us for more war," Falk said, not raising his voice. "But with new toys."
Helmut glanced at him.
—"You really think they'll give us those new tanks? Tigers, Panthers…?"
—"They'll give us what they don't want to lose themselves," Konrad said.
—"And what will you do if they give you one?" Ernst asked Falk. "You gonna name it?"
Falk thought for a second.
—"No. It's just a shell. We're the ones who fight."
—
Days later – On a train, crossing ProvenceJanuary 14, 1943
The fields were frozen. The train's steam mixed with the fog. In the wooden wagons, the men dozed with coats pulled up to their necks. Some spoke in hushed tones. Others simply stared through the slats.
Vogel flipped through a small notebook filled with family photos. Udo read a letter aloud under his breath, as if every word might break. Konrad carved something into the stock of his rifle with the tip of a bullet.
Falk just watched. He didn't think about what had happened. Nor about what was to come. He simply felt the rumble of the train and the sense that this silence was a luxury that wouldn't last.
Helmut sat beside him.
—"Do you think this time we'll really be able to breathe?"
Falk didn't answer immediately. But after a few seconds, he said:
—"Only if we haven't forgotten how."
—
Arrival at the training facility, north of OrléansJanuary 15, 1943
The train stopped. The doors opened with a metallic clang. The air was cold, but it smelled of solid ground, damp grass, and kitchen smoke.
No gunfire. No orders. Just the tense calm of places where war has yet to arrive.
Falk was the first to step down. The others followed.
They had survived.
But they knew that wouldn't last.