Alexandria – Former administrative building, now Leibstandarte field headquartersJanuary 5, 1943
Falk entered without knocking. Albrecht stood by a situation map pinned to a table scattered with half-empty cups of cold coffee. His tunic was unbuttoned at the top, sleeves rolled up. He hadn't slept much.
Falk stood at attention and handed over a folded document.
—"Status report, sir."
Albrecht took it, unfolded it without ceremony, and read it silently. He didn't need to ask questions. He knew Falk. Every word was carefully chosen.
Zugführer Falk Ritter, 3rd Panzer Section, Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler.Final Report – Operation Alexandria
— City secured.— Enemy resistance collapsed in my sector on the second day.— Enemy forces 90% withdrawn or surrendered.— Platoon casualties: 1 Panzer IV destroyed, 3 wounded. No fatalities.— Conditions for further advance: stable. Morale: high, though showing signs of sustained fatigue.— Recommendation: rotation or reorganization if the offensive continues toward the canal.
Albrecht folded the report precisely. Then looked up.
—"Good work, Falk."
—"Nothing to celebrate," Falk replied.
—"No. But we're still here."
They shook hands briefly—soldiers, nothing more. Falk left. Outside, the Egyptian sun was already crushing every shadow.
That nightBack courtyard of a school turned into a makeshift barracks
The platoon sat around a makeshift fire. The city slept. They didn't.
Helmut sat with his eyes closed. Ernst scribbled something on a scrap of paper. Konrad smoked. The new ones said nothing. The warmth of the flames was the only thing alive.
—"Is this what winning feels like?" Udo asked quietly.
—"It's what not dying today feels like," Konrad answered without looking up.
Vogel stared at his hands. They trembled slightly.
Falk appeared without a word. He sat among them. Watched the fire. Then he spoke.
—"Surviving is the only thing they never taught us. Everything else… we've learned on our own."
No one replied. No one needed to.