Military Transport Depot – Outskirts of OrléansJanuary 24, 1943, nightfall
The armored train was ready. The lights were dim. Snow crunched under boots. The engines of the five tanks hummed at low idle, as if they too were waiting for the signal.
Falk climbed down from the Tiger and stood in front of his men. No one spoke. Only the whistle of the wind between the wagons.
—"Listen," he said without raising his voice.
Everyone fell silent.
—"You know where we're going. You know what awaits us. I promise you no rest, no glory, not even survival. What I do promise is this: if we fall, we fall together. And if we break those lines… it will be because no one else can."
He paused. Met their eyes, one by one.
—"You are not just any soldiers. You are my platoon. And from today on… you are the tip of the spear."
Silence. No applause. Just held breaths.
Then, from the back, Vogel, eyes bright, raised his voice in a song that had crossed fronts and trenches:
🎵 Wenn alle untreu werden, so bleiben wir doch treu...(When all others become unfaithful, we remain loyal...)
The melody crept in like smoke—soft, heavy—and then broke into its refrain:
🎵 SS marschiert in Feindesland, und der Sturm bricht los!(The SS marches in enemy land, and the storm breaks loose!)
One by one, voices joined. First Helmut. Then Konrad. Then Ernst and the rest.
Falk stood still for a moment… and then, without a word, he joined them.
🎵 Kämpfen wir für Deutschland, lieben unser Volk!(We fight for Germany, we love our people!)
They sang with force. Not for propaganda. Not for pride. But for themselves. For what they had been, and for all they still had to suffer and endure together.
When the final verse faded, the silence weighed heavier than steel.
The locomotive whistled. No orders were needed.
The platoon climbed into their tanks.
The march east had begun. And there would be no turning back.