Austria – Late March 1938
The orders were light, but the days were not. The unit remained stationed in a provincial town, supposedly to assist with the restoration of order. In reality, it was an exercise in visibility—and patience.
Falk let the others roam. They didn't need rigid discipline every second. A commander knew when to press, and when to loosen the grip.
Lukas and Ernst spent their afternoon near the marketplace, leaning on crates, watching the flow of Austrians pass. Some curious, others indifferent. A few hostile.
—"You think they'll come around?" Lukas asked.
—"To what?" Ernst replied, chewing a piece of bread.
—"To us. The Reich. This whole thing."
—"Does it matter?"
Not far away, Helmut wandered into a bookshop, where he exchanged polite greetings with an old man who owned the place. They didn't understand each other's words, but books needed no translation.
Konrad preferred isolation. He sat by the Panzer, cleaning the barrel of the main gun like it was a ritual. Two local boys approached at a distance, watching him in silence.
—"It's not a toy," Konrad said in German, not expecting them to understand.
But they stayed. Until their mother called them back sharply from behind a fence.
Later, Falk joined the town mayor for a formal visit to a small monument from the Great War. The mayor spoke of sacrifice. Falk nodded, said little. He didn't come to rewrite the past. Just to mark the new chapter.
That night, over coffee boiled too long, they gathered in their barracks.
—"Strange peace, isn't it?" Helmut said.
—"Like a breath before the plunge," Falk answered.
And outside, under the mountain mist, the Panzer rested again. It was the calm before history accelerated once more.