On the road to Alexandria — January 4, 1942
They advanced in column through a narrow stretch between sandy hills and dry brush, east of an abandoned village. The map showed no resistance. The radio was silent. The sky was clear.
Too clear.
**
From the hatch, Falk felt something in his gut. Not fear. That instinct you only earn with time:the heavy silence of an ambush that hasn't started yet.
—Helmut —he said quietly—. Tell the second tank to close the gap.—I don't want any space between us.
But the order came too late.
**
The shot was sharp. No warning whistle.The shell punched through the front of the second Panzer in the column and erupted in flame, a black plume whipping into the sky.
—Antitank! West! Partial cover on the hill! —Konrad shouted.
Falk reacted without thinking.
—Immediate turn! Ernst, load! Konrad, prepare direct fire! Lukas, take cover behind that ridge!
**
The platoon scattered as best they could. Dust swallowed everything. Another shell hissed nearby, striking the third Panzer's side armor, but not penetrating.
Falk swung the cannon, spotted the flash… and fired.
**Hit.Silence.Nothing.Then a second explosion—**the British antitank gun went up in flames.
**
When it was over, smoke still billowed from the destroyed tank. No one emerged.Falk climbed down from his Panzer. Walked slowly. Said nothing.
The others watched from afar. One of the new tankers vomited behind a rock.
**
—Who was it? —Ernst asked quietly.
Falk looked at the ruined turret. The number on the side.
—Krause. And his crew.
Silence.
—They didn't make a mistake. They were just the first.
**
Later, as the bodies were recovered and the tanks rolled out again, Falk climbed back into his hatch.
—A commander isn't measured by the orders he gives —he thought—.But by the names he can't erase.
And the convoy moved on.One tank less.One more lesson.And the war, still keeping secrets.