Warsaw — September 30, 1939
The sky above Warsaw was a grey, emotionless mass, mirroring the neatly ordered ranks of soldiers stretching out before the improvised podium. The Leibstandarte stood in perfect formation. An absolute silence reigned, broken only by the distant whisper of the wind.
Falk stood motionless in the front row, his uniform impeccable, gaze fixed straight ahead. He thought of nothing—or perhaps of everything he had lived through over the past weeks. Beside him, the Panzer IV crew stood quietly.
SS-Brigadeführer Dietrich approached the microphone with firm steps. He surveyed the troops before speaking:
"The campaign in Poland has concluded victoriously. The Führer extends his gratitude for your bravery and sacrifice. Today, we especially recognize the exceptional courage shown by some among you."
Dietrich paused briefly, glanced at a document, and continued:
"SS-Oberscharführer Falk Ritter, for exemplary leadership and demonstrated bravery in combat, you are hereby awarded the Iron Cross Second Class."
Falk stepped forward, saluted precisely, and silently received the decoration. He felt the cold weight of the metal against his chest, though he knew the real weight lay elsewhere.
"Sieg Heil!" Dietrich proclaimed.
The troops responded in unison. The ceremony concluded swiftly, and Falk returned slowly to his men. Lukas looked at him, respect mingled with unease.
"How does it feel, chief?"
Falk gazed at the metallic cross in his hand for a moment before replying calmly:
"Heavy."
In the distance, tanks were being refueled and repaired. The war continued, Falk thought, and this cross was not an end. It was merely a reminder of what they had done and of what still lay ahead.