In an office in the center of Berlin.
"Krupp and Rheinmetall have already completed their orders, earlier than planned, my Führer," Paul reported, reading from the paper as though the information had reached him only moments ago.
Hitler looked up, surprised.
"That is good news. Then we must distribute the new materials to the divisions at once," he said, stroking his small mustache thoughtfully.
"The Gestapo has also received intelligence that France and Britain are preparing for war," Paul continued, his tone measured, almost concerned. "Their industries are operating at maximum capacity. They expect an invasion of Poland."
Of course only because our industry is doing the same. It is a devils spiral, Paul thought, not saying it out loud.
"An invasion?" Hitler snapped. "We would be taking back what was stolen from us, and they dare to call that an invasion?"
His voice rose, echoing off the walls.
"These bastards. They dare. And if we take back Danzig, what then? They think we would not dare? They think us weak?" Hitler roared, slamming his hand onto the desk.
"Yes, the French are arrogant," Paul said calmly, leaning back slightly, watching the outburst with careful attention. "Perhaps they need to be shown true strength."
At that moment, the door opened.
A slim man entered the office, adjusting his glasses as he stepped inside.
Himmler.
Paul clenched his teeth, just enough to feel it.
"My Führer, I am here to discuss the new equipment the Waffen SS should receive," Himmler said, his tone polite, his eyes fixed on Paul. He did not bother to hide the murderous intent behind his gaze.
Look at that, Paul thought as he slowly rose from his chair.
"I will take my leave now, my Führer. It seems there are more pressing matters to attend to," he said. The sarcasm was evident to everyone in the room except Hitler.
"Yes, thank you, Jaeger," Hitler mumbled, already sitting down again.
Paul stepped out of the office and closed the door behind him. He moved through the familiar corridors, intent on leaving the building, when he suddenly slowed and stopped.
He listened.
A faint smile crossed his face as he opened the door beside him. The voices grew louder as he entered the grand hall.
The Reichstag.
A debate was underway, judging by the raised voices and sharp tones. Paul entered quietly, leaning against the back wall of the hall, listening.
A familiar figure stood behind the speaker's podium.
The old man, clad in an expensive business suit, was already flushed from speaking.
"The growing threat from the British French alliance cannot be ignored!" he shouted. "The Reich must face this danger accordingly. I propose increasing the budget for this quarter by one hundred million Reichsmark!"
The hall erupted in applause. Yet beneath the thunderous clapping, some remained conspicuously still, their hands unmoving.
Paul and Merwin, who had just stepped away from the podium, exchanged a brief glance before both went their separate ways.
Inside his car, Paul reviewed his schedule.
"Take me to the barracks," he said absentmindedly to the driver.
The vehicle soon arrived at the familiar barracks outside Berlin. Another Mercedes was already parked out front.
Waiting for him stood another officer, and not just any officer, but a general. The afternoon sun gleamed off the red and gold of the man's collar as he shook Paul's hand.
"General Kesselring," Paul said, smiling warmly.
"Oberst Jaeger, I must say, I am very eager for this special exercise," Kesselring replied.
"Excellent. Let us inspect the troops," Paul said as they walked side by side, soon reaching their destination.
They stood atop a slight hill, overlooking a wide field of grass. Below them stretched a massive formation. Hundreds of soldiers stood in perfect order, aligned in precise squads. Before them, two long rows of tanks waited, engines silent, steel gleaming in the light.
"Good day, Sirs!" they shouted in unison, saluting the two officers with utmost attention.
Kesselring smiled in satisfaction.
Paul noticed it in the corner of his eye. He too was satisfied by the state of his division. Although it was not a complete division. Its troop power was only about two thirds of a full one. Had it been complete, it would have been commanded by a General. Still, if one did not know, one wouldn't notice.
The exercise today was just one of many Paul had conducted with his men over the last few months. He sharpened them increasingly, sharpening them so much that they would match his plans perfectly.
Beside them, Hasso appeared, saluting as well.
"If you allow it, I will start the exercise," Hasso said.
Kesselring and Paul both nodded.
A loud, shrieking whistle could be heard over the field. The tank crews quickly boarded their tanks. Noticeably, the first row of tanks had blue strips of cloth knotted around their turrets, the second row had red ones.
"Team Red will be commanded by Major Reicher."
"Team Blue will be commanded by Major Leichthofer."
Hasso explained, folding his arms behind his back, copying the other two men next to him.
"Team Blue will receive air support, while Team Red won't," he continued.
Kesselring looked at Paul.
"Truly interesting. What is the goal?" he asked, intrigued.
This time Paul answered.
"On each team's side is a command post, a tent of sorts. Inside is a flag. Capturing the flag will be the winning condition."
"Interesting," Kesselring muttered, stroking his chin. "What kind of air support are we talking about?"
"A squadron of Stukas," Hasso answered, pointing into the distance, where one could see small dots.
"Of course, we won't be shooting live. Only fake bullets, grenades, and bombs," Paul added, shortly before the whistle sounded once again.
Both Paul and Kesselring raised their binoculars, watching the spectacle.
"We advance," Major Leichthofer said, watching the planes roar overhead as they reached their targets. Columns of Team Blue's tanks began to roll forward, the enemy positions of Team Red already burning beneath the bombardment.
Yet the closer they came, the fewer bombs fell.
"Have they already been decimated?" Leichthofer muttered. He raised his hand, signaling two tanks to increase speed and move ahead as scouts.
Minutes later, the radio inside his command tank crackled.
"Sir, reporting. There are no signs of Team Red's tanks."
"What?" Leichthofer snapped, grabbing the receiver. "Give me Leutnant Sigmund. Why hasn't he reported? Is his engine too loud for him to speak or what?"
Static hissed. Then a sudden, harsh noise cut through the channel, followed by a voice, faint and strained.
"Team Red's tanks have withdrawn into the forest. Bombing operations are no longer possible."
Leichthofer's eyes widened.
"Turn around. Now!" he shouted.
His tank company veered away, running parallel to the forest's edge. Every hundred meters, Leichthofer ordered a tank to peel off into the trees, living markers probing the darkness, searching for the hidden armor of Team Red.
Suddenly, the radio crackled again.
"Leutnant Sigmund reporting. I see two tanks from Team Red on the far edge of the forest, near our command post!" he shouted, the roar of his propeller nearly drowning out his voice.
"What?" Leichthofer barked, shaking his head in disbelief. How were they that fast? Moving through dense forest at such speed was impossible.Was this another trap?
"Send two tanks after them. Full speed!" Leichthofer ordered. "The rest halt and turn. We're going into the forest."
The column screeched to a stop, tracks churning the wet grass as the tanks slowly pivoted, turrets now aimed at the dark treeline.
Inside the forest, Major Reicher ducked as another branch scraped across the hull.
"Have they taken the bait?" he asked, more to himself than to anyone else.
"I hope so," his second officer replied from the tank beside him.
They moved slowly through the thick vegetation, visibility poor but concealment perfect.
"If they did, we exit the forest and strike from behind," Reicher said. "If not, we meet them on our way out. Either way, prepare for combat."
The tanks turned, inching toward the forest's edge.
Then distant explosions echoed across the field.
"Did they take it?" Reicher shouted, a hint of excitement in his voice.
Another explosion followed, far louder than the rest.
A tank roughly a hundred meters away was hit. The crew raised their hands, signaling defeat.
Reicher reacted instantly, lifting his binoculars.
"Enemy. Eleven o'clock. Fire at will!" he shouted.
His tank lurched sideways, slipping behind dense foliage.
"Looks like they haven't spotted us yet!" the driver yelled.
Reicher peered through the viewing slit.
"Wait… wait…"
When the enemy tank finally entered his sights, a drop of sweat slid down his face.
"Now!"
The cannon roared. The shaped-charge shell struck true, punching straight through the enemy armor.
"Reload!" Reicher shouted as the tank surged forward, its position now exposed.
The forest erupted into chaos. Explosions thundered, echoes rolling out into the open field.
Paul lowered his binoculars.
"Looks like Leichthofer was defeated," he said calmly, watching the last tank of Leichthofer's division burn.
"But Reicher only has one tank left," Kesselring replied, gripping his binoculars tightly. "And he hasn't reached the command post yet."
"Look," Kesselring said sharply.
Paul raised his binoculars again.
A single tank burst from the forest's edge, black smoke pouring from its overworked engine. It raced along the treeline, zigzagging wildly through the mud, straight toward Team Blue's command center.
"He hasn't won yet," Kesselring said. "Look."
Paul followed his gaze upward.
Dozens of Stukas dove from the clouds, sirens screaming as they locked onto their prey.
"Come on!" Leutnant Sigmund shouted inside his cockpit, pushing his aircraft into a steep dive.
The tank was barely two hundred meters from the command post.
The bombs fell. Light explosives, but many.
"Watch out!" Reicher screamed, slamming the hatch shut as death rained from above.
The tank swerved violently, evading one blast after another.
"If one of those hits us directly, it's over!" Reicher shouted, gripping the driver's shoulder.
Miraculously, the tank burst through the bombing run untouched, coated in mud, leaves and shattered branches.
Then Reicher saw him through the slit.
"Sigmund," he whispered.
He knew instantly what had to be done.
Reicher threw the hatch open, sunlight flooding the interior.
"What are you doing, sir?" the driver shouted.
Reicher didn't answer.
He climbed out and jumped.
Behind him, the tank was struck directly, the explosion forcing it to a halt.
"Yes!" Sigmund shouted, pulling his plane into a sharp climb.
Then he saw it.
A small figure sprinting across the open field.
"Yes!" Reicher shouted, raising the blue flag high above his head.
"Unbelievable!" Kesselring exclaimed, his excitement obvious. "We must certainly learn from this exercise, Jäger."
"Indeed," Paul replied calmly. "It clearly shows the need for close coordination between ground forces and air support. Without proper communication, the advantage of air superiority is severely limited."
"True," Kesselring said, stroking his chin. "Reicher was clever. He used the forest to shield himself from air attack. But that protection came at the cost of speed, something Leichthofer correctly identified."
He paused, then looked at Paul.
"So for a proper Blitzkrieg," Kesselring continued, "as you called it in our last meeting…"
"Yes," Paul said.
"…air support is essential," Kesselring finished. "Without it, speed alone is meaningless."
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