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.

The Tiger II's engine throbbed like a mechanical heart beneath Falk's feet. The column moved slowly, winding down a frozen road. On either side, bare forests and villages seemed to hold their breath as the tanks passed.


There was no music. No speeches. Only the steady growl of engines and the crunch of tracks over broken pavement.


Inside the Tiger, no one spoke. The glory of Berlin was already behind them. The real world had returned—cold, dirty, and uncertain.


—Did you see it? —Konrad finally said, breaking the silence—. A woman threw a flower at us… and she had your face on her armband.


—And you didn't like it, did you? —Helmut added over the radio—. You never like it when people admire you.


—It's not that they admire me —Falk finally said—. It's that they don't know why.They don't know the blood. Only the silhouette.


Metzger's Panther rolled up on the right—precise, surgical. Brunner, in the other Panther, waved at some children behind a fence. Lukas snorted.


—Should be mandatory for them to spend a week at the front before painting banners —he muttered.


—And the generals —Ernst added—. And the poets.


The column came to a brief halt due to a broken-down supply truck. Falk stepped out of the Tiger and stretched his legs. The air was still, heavy with omen. In the distance, a ruined church stood against the grey sky.


Kursk lay to the east. But what waited there had no name yet.


Falk climbed back into the tank. He slammed the hatch shut.


—Next stop —he said quietly—: the devil's mouth.


Chapter 105 - Chapter 104 — Silence in the Column