France, Rest Headquarters — December 14, 1941
The newspaper trembled in Falk's hands—not from the cold, but from the avalanche of events unfolding at an inhuman speed.
—"Pearl Harbor… Cairo… What's next?" —he murmured.
They were sitting at the officers' mess table, but there was barely any conversation. Each man was reading his own copy of the Völkischer Beobachter, or staring at the small military radio transmitter that broadcast updates every half hour. The news was almost impossible to absorb.
—"The Americans are entering the war?" —Lukas asked, his arm still in a sling.
—"Looks like it," —Ernst replied—. "And not in Europe, but with Japan. Though we all know what comes next."
—"Meanwhile, Cairo has fallen." —Konrad raised an eyebrow—. "How long ago was it that we were fighting just to break a siege?"
Falk didn't answer immediately. He closed the newspaper, set it on the table, and took a deep breath.
—"In less than ten days, the world has changed. The Stalingrad encirclement has been broken. The Japanese Empire has awakened the sleeping giant. And Rommel has taken Cairo. History is being rewritten... and we're still alive."
—"And decorated," —Helmut said with a half-smile.
—"And on leave. Though it won't last," —Falk added—. "Not with the chaos coming."
There was a pause. The fireplace crackled softly. Outside, it had started to snow.
—"You think they'll send us to Africa?" —Lukas asked.
—"I don't know," —Falk replied—. "But wherever we go, we go together."
The world was on fire. But for a moment, the Tiger's crew could afford to breathe.