The first explosions weren't heard—they were seen. Columns of dust erupted in sudden, sharp bursts along the horizon. Then came the thunder—deep and drawn out, like the roar of an ancient god. The ground trembled beneath Falk Ritter's boots even before the engines reached their peak.
From atop his Panzer, Falk looked skyward. Two Bf 109s cut across the sky like dark blades, followed by a squadron of Stukas diving like predators. Their sirens wailed. Within seconds, an entire enemy defensive line was engulfed in fire and dust.
—"It's begun," Helmut murmured over the radio.
Falk didn't respond. He had already closed the hatch and reviewed the map one last time.
—"Orders from command?" Ernst asked as he adjusted his optics.
Falk didn't need to hear anything. He knew exactly what it meant. Blitzkrieg. First the skies, then the steel.
—"We advance," he said calmly.
The engine roared. The Leibstandarte's armored column began to move like a serpent of iron under the Egyptian sun. Beside them, Italian and Spanish infantry tried to keep up, but they knew they could never match the pace.
The black key was in motion.
Through his periscope, Falk saw a British anti-tank gun, half-buried in the sand, attempting to reposition after the bombing. Too late. A burst from the Panzer blew it apart.
—"Target neutralized," Konrad reported steadily.
—"Heading north-northeast," Falk ordered. "We don't stop until they break."
Even under the desert sun, Blitzkrieg followed its law: shock, speed, relentless pressure. And the Leibstandarte, as always, was at the front.