Synopsis:

After the brutal Ukrainian campaign and the battles that culminated in Kyiv, the Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler is no longer the same. Battered but not broken, its armored core regroups in France just as the push toward Moscow grinds to a halt beneath the weight of winter—and of strategic doubt. No one knows exactly where the war is heading… except for a few.

As Falk Ritter and his crew receive a new long-barreled Panzer IV, still bearing the scars of the Eastern Front, a new destination looms: Africa.

In a sudden redeployment, part of the division is sent to reinforce the Axis campaign in the desert, where the forces of Rommel, Italy… and Spain—under the command of General Yagüe—are advancing toward Cairo, Palestine, and beyond.

But under the scorching sun, there is no shelter for the conscience. Among ancient ruins, dust storms, and enemy fire, Falk and his men must adapt to a different war—without snow, without trenches, but with the same shadow of death… and even more questions left unanswered.

History marches on. The Reich expands. But war, as always, moves faster.

Special Military Train — En route to RastenburgFebruary 1, 1943, 10:10 p.m.


The carriage was warm, quiet, and comfortable. For once, it didn't smell of engine oil or burnt metal, but of polished wood and fine tobacco.


Falk sat alone, across from a high-ranking officer who had boarded at a minor station. Tall, silver-haired, uniform immaculate. Generaloberst Heinz Guderian.


—I've read the report —Guderian began, blunt as ever—. Three times. First with amazement. Then with pride. And finally... with concern.


—Because I don't want you to die, Ritter.


—I've recommended you for promotion to Hauptsturmführer —Guderian continued—. Captain. You've earned it. For your leadership, your initiative… and the legend you've become. If you die tomorrow, we lose more than an officer. We lose the symbol this war needs.


—A company. Nearly twenty tanks. Officers under your command. Maps, meetings… and the rear lines. I could even assign you to training. Instructing new Panzer commanders.


Falk looked down, eyes resting for a moment on his gloves, still stained with old grease.


—Technically, yes —Guderian said with a faint smile—. Though hardly anyone does.


—I didn't come this far to look at maps.


—I want to keep fighting. With my crew. In my Tiger.


—And if your men choose a different path?


—Then I'll shake their hands. But I... I keep going.


Guderian nodded. He stood, but before stepping out, he added:


—Very few men have the privilege of being masters of their fate in the midst of war.You have that, Ritter.Use it well.


11:05 p.m. — Rear compartment of the train


Falk closed the door gently. His crew was inside. Sitting, half-asleep, boots unlaced, eyes weary.


—I spoke with Guderian —he said plainly.


—He offered me a promotion to captain. To command a company. Or become an instructor.


—And what did you say? —Ernst muttered.


—Because I'm not staying behind while others fight. I want to keep going... with you. With my Tiger. On the front.


Lukas was the first to speak, still reclined:


—And you thought we'd let you go off alone?


—We already followed you into hell. We're not stopping now.


—A mad commander needs equally mad soldiers. Here we are.


Konrad said nothing. He stood, walked over to Falk, and held out his hand.


And so, in the calm of a moving train, the five men who had stood against the world… made a new pact.


Chapter 92 - Chapter 91: Masters of Their Fate