Ukraine — Dnieper Periphery, July 1941, 02:15
The engine rumbled in a low, restrained rhythm—almost reverent.
The column moved under a moonless sky. Only the stars, distant and indifferent, lit the helmets, the tracks, the rifles slung over shoulders. No one spoke. No one smoked. Only the crunch of damp earth under heavy machinery broke the silence.
Inside the Panzer, the radio hummed softly. Helmut listened to faint static, like a nervous whisper.
—"Distance to deployment point?" Falk asked quietly.
—"Three kilometers. Half an hour at this pace," Helmut replied.
Lukas drove with his eyes locked on the line of shadows from the forest on their right. Every shape might've been a tree… or an anti-tank gun.
Ernst said nothing. He held a round in his hand, spinning it between his fingers like a prayer stone. Konrad, visor covered, stared inward rather than out.
The order was clear: reach the position before dawn without alerting the enemy. The zone was contested—Soviet units in retreat, local resistance bands. It wasn't an assault. Just a transfer.But in darkness, everything felt like an ambush.
They passed a platoon of infantry marching tight and silent. Tense faces, eyes gleaming under helmets. No greetings. No questions.
Falk watched from the hatch, the damp air brushing his face.
—"I miss the noise," he muttered.
—"Of the engines?" Konrad asked without turning.
—"No. The noise of knowing someone's shooting at you. That's clearer than this."
A crack to the left brought the convoy to a halt.
Hands raised. Weapons ready.Utter silence.
One second. Two. Three.
Only a deer. Or so it seemed.
—"We move," Falk ordered.
The Panzer resumed its march. Slower. Heavier. As if every meter was emotional mud.
They reached the clearing at 03:06.
No gunfire. No lights. Just a nod from an artillery officer waiting for them.
—"All good," Helmut said.
—"No. All quiet," Falk corrected. "Not the same thing."
That night, they slept in shifts.Inside the Panzer. The barrel still warm from the engine.
No one spoke of fear. No one spoke of bravery.
Because sometimes, in war, the most terrifying thing…is to keep moving without light, and without voice.