German-Belgian Border — May 10, 1940
Dawn broke with a pale, almost spectral light. Low fog covered the fields like a shroud, and the roar of Panzer engines sliced through the silence with metallic precision. The Leibstandarte was deployed near the border, ready to cross into Belgium.
Falk adjusted the visor of his helmet as the Panzer IV rolled along a dirt road, flanked by low hills and scattered farms. Around him, other armored vehicles were slowly advancing into position. There was noise, but no chaos. It was a measured, deliberate push. They hadn't crossed the line—yet.
"Are we on time?" Lukas asked from his seat.
"Almost," replied Helmut from the radio. "High Command orders a synchronized crossing with the Luftwaffe. Bombings to hit Belgian positions at the same time. They expect confusion."
Falk climbed up to the hatch. It was time to open a new front. The German strategy was unfolding like a net: while other divisions moved through Holland and the Ardennes, the Leibstandarte was to press through central Belgium. Make noise. Be seen. Draw Allied attention.
"We're the false hammer," Konrad muttered."But we still strike," Falk replied."With enough force to seem decisive."
The Panzer halted on a raised point, from where Falk could see the line of border posts and the first Belgian villages beyond. No shots had been fired yet, but the air was heavy with tension.
"They've fortified bridges and crossroads," Helmut reported. "Belgian troops are on alert but scattered. The British haven't fully deployed."
Around them, the Luftwaffe began to appear. Squadrons in low formation sped westward. Moments later, the first explosions echoed in the distance.
"We advance," Falk ordered.
The tanks crossed the border. Ahead, Belgian villages emerged shyly from the mist. Some civilians watched from half-open windows. No one welcomed them. No hostility—only fear.
They rolled through fields and along rail lines. The damp ground splashed mud under the treads. Road signs had been torn down. Train stations stood abandoned.
On the radio, Helmut picked up chaotic signals. Belgian troops pulling back, British units deploying clumsily. A chorus of disorder.
"Looks like the show's begun," said Ernst, loading the first high-explosive shell.
Falk looked toward the horizon, where smoke was already rising over Namur. He knew they weren't the main thrust.
But in war, noise can kill too.
And today, they were the noise.