"Have you heard? Apparently Hauptmann Fuchs is dead — he was a spy," a soldier whispered to another curious soul.
"What? Is that true? That traitor," the other man said, balling his fist.
"There's more. Oberleutnant Jaeger, you know, the famous one, tried to kill him before. I heard from a friend that Fuchs was somehow connected to Jaeger being declared dead," the soldier continued. "Before he appeared, he managed to conquer this Avila. That's why they call him the Ghost of Avila."
"That's unbelievable," came a mocking voice from behind them.
They turned around, their eyes widened.
"Oberleutnant Jaeger, we didn't mean—" one began, before the other slapped him.
"Major Jaeger, we're sorry for talking behind your back," the other said quickly.
Paul paused for a moment before answering."Can you tell me where I can find Major Lang?"
The two looked at each other before one of them reluctantly replied,"We apologize, sir, but Major Lang isn't in Ávila right now, he's further west, still pushing back the Republicans."
"Is that so?" Paul asked, disappointment evident in his tone. "How about Leutnant Fischer and Weber? Do you know them?"
"Yes! Leutnant Fischer is a friend of mine. I can lead you to his room," one of the soldiers answered, relief in his voice.
The soldier led Paul to Fischer's quarters.Paul knocked twice before entering.
Fischer, who sat at a table, turned around as the door opened. His eyes widened.
"Oberleutnant!" he called out, jumping to his feet.
Paul and Fischer embraced briefly before Paul stepped back.
"I heard you somehow returned from the dead," Fischer said, studying Paul from head to toe. His eyes fell on Paul's collar and shoulder straps, the insignia of his new rank. He stiffened unconsciously.
"No need to be uncomfortable, Fischer," Paul said with a smile, glad to see his friend again. "Besides, you've risen too, haven't you?"
"Yes, they promoted me to Oberleutnant after we made it back to Salamanca. Though I only did some translating…" Fischer admitted, still awkward about his new rank.
"You deserve it, Fischer, trust me," Paul said, before his gaze fell to Fischer's leg. "What happened?"
Although Fischer tried to hide it, Paul noticed the awkward stance and the occasional glance toward his left leg.
"I can't hide anything from you," Fischer sighed. "Some Spanish bastard got me during the fighting. They say I'll recover smoothly, but I'm being sent back to Germany with the other wounded."
Fischer looked down, guilt weighing on him.
"Mhm," Paul muttered, patting his friend's back.
The two exchanged a long look before Fischer finally asked,"How about something else? I'm curious how you managed to survive and what about you and that Hauptmann Fuchs? I've heard stories, you know. The Ghost of Avila."He joked, smiling again.
Paul sighed defeatedly, pulled up a chair, and began to tell his story…
The sun set quickly, the soft glow of dusk illuminating Fischer's room.
"Too bad you didn't get your hands on that son of a bitch. What about the letter?" Fischer asked, his voice still thick with emotion from Paul's tale.
"Actually, now that you mention it, I have a favor to ask," Paul said slowly, pulling a letter from within his leather coat.
He continued, holding out the envelope."I made a copy, the original is going to the General Staff, another to the Gestapo. But there's also a personal letter from me in there. Could you give this to someone back in Cologne?"
Fischer looked at the envelope before setting it gently on the table."Of course. What's his address?"
Paul took a small paper and pen."Tailor Friedrich Müller[1], Braune Straße 4."
"A tailor?" Fischer asked, confused.
"He's an… old friend. I know this isn't exactly allowed, but could you do me this favor?" Paul asked.
"Of course, Major. You saved me so many times, I still don't know how to repay you," Fischer said, shaking his head. "This isn't even a fraction of the debt I owe. I'll deliver it, no questions asked."
"Thank you, Fischer," Paul said genuinely.
The two talked for a while longer, reminiscing about their past adventures, before Paul finally took his leave.
He walked through the hallways of the spacious government office building they had occupied — now serving as a temporary command center and quarters for officers.
Paul clasped his hands behind his back, occasionally nodding to the officers who saluted him, their eyes filled with respect.
Rumors of his deeds had already spread like wildfire — often exaggerating his actions even further.
Paul's jaw tightened as he realized, more and more, the weight he now had to bear, the expectations placed upon him. He was slowly but surely becoming some kind of role model to the soldiers… perhaps not only to those in Spain.
But he was a variable, after all. Every action he took, every victory, every loss, meant altering history in ways he could not yet comprehend.His attack on Ávila, for example, had accelerated the city's fall by nearly a month.Who knew what kind of domino effect that would set in motion?
"Major," a voice called from behind, pulling him back to the present.
Paul turned, the fading glow of the setting sun still on his face."General," he replied.
"Follow me. I've called a strategic meeting regarding our next steps. All high-ranking officers will be present," Sperrle said, already turning away.
Paul followed quietly, though his mind was spinning.
Here comes the domino, he thought, before stepping into a wide room where a handful of high-ranking officers were already seated.
They quickly stood up, saluting Sperrle, before sitting down again.
Paul took a place somewhere in the middle of the long, dark wooden table, while Sperrle chose the seat at its head.
Sperrle cleared his throat."Oberst Decker, please brief everyone on the latest developments."
A tall, blond man stood up, nodding, and walked to the large military map hanging on the wall.
All heads turned toward him expectantly.
"After Major Jaeger's successful capture of Ávila, we managed to push the frontline further south," Decker began, his tone calm but confident."Major Klein reported about thirty minutes ago that the 2nd Armored Battalion succeeded in piercing the enemy's frontline approximately five kilometers south of Ávila." He pointed to a marked position on the map, moving a red pin to indicate the advance.
"He also reported that the Spanish appear to be in retreat. Intelligence from both the Luftwaffe and our reconnaissance units confirms this, the Republicans have abandoned their current defensive lines and are constructing a major defensive ring around Madrid."
A murmur of voices erupted.
"Gentlemen." Sperrle cleared his throat once more. The room fell silent.
"We must decide our next steps. The Nationalists have informed us they intend to push through and assault the city," Sperrle said, his tone tinged with pessimism.
They will fail and Madrid will be besieged for years before it finally surrenders, Paul thought, shaking his head.
"We could support the Spanish assault and occupy it quickly," an Oberstleutnant suggested.
He received awkward glances — he seemed not to grasp the mood of the discussion.
An older man, wearing the insignia of an Oberst, rose. "I believe we should leave the Spanish and concentrate on the east. The Republicans' eastern flank is thinly held. With our Panzer units we can pierce through and attack where they are less fortified."
A few officers nodded.
"Not a bad thought, Oberst von Thoma," General Sperrle said. "Yet I doubt our tanks can easily break through the, altough less fortified, defense lines the Republicans have erected. Besides, there is another problem I must inform you about."
"We can no longer rely too heavily on our tanks. The Republicans have received shipments of Soviet military aid and advisors. Many consignments contained anti-tank guns. The Russian M1932 can penetrate our armor with ease," Sperrle said, sighing.
A murmur rose again.
Then the scrape of a chair sounded as Paul pushed back and stood. He waited until the room went quiet.
After a moment he began, "As the General has said, relying too much on tank performance would be foolish, given the Russian guns."
He paused.
"Now that we no longer enjoy unchallenged superiority on the ground, we should consider different spheres of warfare."
"As you all know, the Condor Legion is primarily an air force. Yet I believe we have underused our overwhelming advantage in the air. Our aircraft are far superior to anything the enemy has. We must employ that air superiority far more strategically."
"To break the Madrid defensive line we need our Panzer, yet they will be decimated by the Russian guns. Therefore we must neutralize those guns by air."
Sperrle nodded almost unconsciously as he listened.
"I propose a three-step plan. First: we wait — but only briefly, long enough for the enemy to commit and reveal their positions, not long enough for them to fully entrench. While they take up positions, the Luftwaffe will scout every anti‑tank emplacement, every artillery and MG post, covered by our fighters.
"Second: once positions are identified, we conduct targeted strikes against the anti‑tank batteries and flak positions, not blind area bombing, but focused attacks to silence the M1932s and similar threats."
"Third: while air strikes suppress their defences, we implement Oberst von Thoma's maneuver and hit the eastern flank. Our bombers and close‑air support will pound identified positions in coordinated waves, preparing lanes for the armored advance."
Paul stopped, looking around the room for allies.
He found them. Oberst von Thoma gave him a broad, approving nod; a few others followed suit.
But then a Major cut in. "Although your strategy sounds good in theory, we simply don't have the fuel or bombs to carry it out."
Paul clenched his jaw. He's right, he thought. So there's only one remaining option.
"You're right, Major — I didn't take the logistics into account," Paul admitted, his voice steady, not defeated.
Sperrle nodded. "A good thought but you have to keep the logistics in mind. But I agree with you, we have to use our airforce more."
Any other brilliant ideas, Jaeger?" he asked, with a hint of irony.
"Actually…" Paul began and smiled slightly. "Have you heard of a man named Kurt Student?"
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Thank you all for the support! I appreciate every Power Stone, comment, and review.
[1] Reference to chapter 7, for those that don't remember anymore