Rear Area — Temporary Quarters for Frontline VeteransFebruary 1, 1943, 10:46 a.m.
The room was simple: four camp beds, a stove, a metal table, two windows with grimy glass. But to Falk and his crew, it felt like a palace.
For the first time in days, they slept without the roar of engines or the stench of gunpowder.
Ernst sat by the window, shaving with a dull razor. Lukas was snoring, flat on his back, a blanket pulled up to his chest. Konrad read over an old, folded letter. Helmut was flipping through a stained, wrinkled copy of the Völkischer Beobachter.
—They say we saved half an army —Helmut commented, eyes still on the paper.
—They say that? —Ernst asked with a smirk—. I thought we just stopped ourselves from getting crushed.
—They're calling us heroes —Konrad added, not looking up from his letter—. And just a week ago, we didn't even have enough food or ammo.
Falk stood leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He said nothing. Just watched. Thought.
—What do you think, Falk? —Helmut finally asked.
Falk sighed.
—I don't know if we're heroes... but I know we didn't do anything we wouldn't do again.
—I did something different —Lukas called from the bed without opening his eyes—. I survived.
Everyone laughed. A tired, broken laugh—but real.
Ernst stood and set the razor down on the table.
—What if this is all just for propaganda? —he asked—. What if tomorrow they send us to Berlin, pin medals on us… and use us on recruitment posters?
Falk shrugged.
—Then let them. I don't want honors. I just want them to remember the Tiger. The Panther. The ones who didn't make it back.If they have to invent something, at least let it be for those who truly fought to the end.
Silence.
Then a knock at the door. A young officer stood outside, clearly nervous.
—Commander Falk Ritter?
—Here.
—You've been summoned. High command. Top level. You leave this afternoon. Uniforms must be ready.
The officer saluted and left.
The door closed gently.
No one spoke for several seconds.
Until Konrad muttered, almost amused:
—I guess we really are more than just tankers now.
And Falk, still leaning against the wall, replied:
—Now we're the story.