Chancellery office in Berlin.
A storm had passed through the German capital the night before.
General Heinz Guderian stood at attention before the Führer's desk, a file of intelligence dispatches tucked under his arm.
"They've begun airlifts, but the Republic now has Soviet crates arriving through Marseille," Guderian stated plainly.
"Trucks, rifles, even old T-26 light tanks, likely Czech-built."
Hitler stood, lips tight. "The Bolsheviks move faster than the West. And France Blum plays both sides of the table."
He turned toward the map of Spain pinned on the back wall.
Red and black markers stretched from Madrid to Zaragoza to Valencia.
"A civil war, yes, but not theirs alone anymore. This is the dress rehearsal."
Guderian nodded. "We've tested tactics on paper. Let me test them in Spain."
Hitler's eyes narrowed. "No flags. No uniforms."
"No acknowledgment either," Guderian confirmed.
Hitler turned to Wilhelm Keitel, who stood silently near the window.
