Only the light sound of breathing was heard through the dark tunnel.
Man after man squeezed through it.
Right at the front were the waiter and Álvarez, the latter pressing a pistol against the former.
They walked for what felt like an eternity, but finally they saw light at the end of the tunnel.
The moment they did, the whole column stopped.
Paul gave Hasso a glance, who in return put up two fingers.
After a while Paul nodded toward Álvarez, who moved toward the light, tugging the waiter.
Soon a heavy metal door came into their view.
Álvarez pushed the waiter forward, whispering something in Spanish before hiding the gun behind his back.
The waiter turned toward the door, gulping, before knocking three quick times and two long ones.
After a few seconds that felt like an eternity for Álvarez, whose forehead was already wet with sweat, the door finally made a sound.
A small slit opened and a man peeked through. He recognized the familiar face of the waiter before his eyes moved toward Álvarez, who gave the man a slightly awkward smile. The man's gaze lingered for a while, mustering him, before he muttered something and closed the slit again.
Álvarez's head was already spinning with possibilities, until the door made another sound, this time a loud squeak of metal and old hinges. The door opened slowly, the slit growing bigger and bigger.
The man from before revealed himself; his eyes now looked at the backpacks the two had brought. He asked them to show him the contents of the packs, seemingly trying to get a piece of the cake.
Álvarez tensed up, slowly lowering his backpack.
The man crouched down and opened it.
His eyes widened and his mouth tore open; before he could utter a sound, a gunshot came from the darkness of the tunnel.
Then a footstep echoed through the darkness, before a figure revealed itself.
Paul looked at the man and then at the backpack full of grenades.
"We should have given that to someone else," he said, with a small grin.
Álvarez managed a small laugh before tensing up again, remembering the situation they were in.
"Come on, we have to hurry, they could have heard the gunshot," Paul said, looking toward the figures in the tunnel slowly revealing themselves.
"Gag him again and bind him to something," Paul ordered Álvarez, while pointing at the terrified waiter.
The group assembled again; a soldier handed Paul a rifle. He shouldered it before loading it.
When everyone was ready they moved through the door as one unit, each and every soldier with their rifles raised and ready to fire at any time.
They sneaked up the long spiral of staircases at an agonizingly slow pace.
When they finally reached another door, this one less heavy, Paul turned toward his men, who looked at him expectantly.
"You know our mission. General Ramírez will launch a general offensive on this complex. We will support him from within. Our main goal is sabotage, hindering the enemy from defending properly. We have three main objectives: first, killing as many enemies as possible; second, taking out the heavy machine-gun positions situated on the third floor; third, destroying the enemy's anti-air guns situated in the backyard of the building.
"Bauer and Miller," Paul looked at the two sergeants, their gazes stern yet trusting. "Your squads will try to take out their air defense. If you deem it too dangerous, then abort and support us on the third floor."
"Because the priority lies with the machine-gun positions, the rest of us will storm the third floor and take it over. If we manage that, we can execute a pincer attack, trapping the artillery and infantry of the enemy within the courtyard."
"If you are successfull in destroying the air-defense then the Luftwaffe will oblitarate this building."Paul added, looking at Bauer and Miller.
Then the distant sound of explosions and gunfire arrived.
Paul turned back toward the door and gave the nearest soldier a stern nod.
The soldier kicked it open. A handful of men were leaning out of a window, surprised, and before they could react bullets riddled their bodies. The group moved quickly, spreading out through the corridor.
At a crossroads about a third of the men peeled off toward the backyard. The rest pushed down the wide hall, cutting down any soldiers they caught off guard.
Screams and gunfire from outside and especially from inside the house — soon echoed through the whole mansion.
Paul's group reached the foot of a staircase just as flocks of enemy soldiers came rushing down, having realised the infiltration.
A brutal exchange of fire followed.
Paul and the men nearest him dove for cover behind overturned furniture and half-open doors. A German soldier beside Paul took a round to the chest and collapsed; blood stained the wooden floor crimson. Another man screamed, clutching his leg.
There was no time to linger. Paul spotted a Spanish gunman aiming at him and rolled to avoid the shot as a bullet grazed past. He recovered, fired back, and his rounds found the gunman in the chest.
He fumbled a grenade from his coat and shouted to a soldier taking cover behind a pillar. The man glanced, caught the grenade and threw it.
A deafening explosion detonated. Splinters of wood showered from the staircase; blood flowed and screams rose.
Paul revealed himself again and lobbed another grenade. The blast shifted the tide — debris and bodies tumbled — and Paul roared above the chaos: "NOW — OVERRUN THEM!"
The soldiers answered with a shouted cry, vigor renewed, and charged into the gunfire.
Spanish soldier after Spanish soldier fell, but Paul's side paid in blood too. Halfway up the stairs a grenade rolled loose. Most men leapt clear, but two were too close; the explosion tore them apart.
Paul spotted Hasso rushing to help a nearby comrade who'd been hit. He had been close to the explosion himself, but only coughed a few times from the dust before grabbing his rifle and driving his men forward.
They heard explosions coming from somewhere behind them.
"They've destroyed the air defense!" Paul shouted, trying to boost his soldiers' morale — though he wasn't sure himself.
They fought through hallway after hallway, cutting down scores of Spanish soldiers before finally storming the third floor. Paul shot a bewildered machine gunner and shouted for his men to guard the staircase.
Then he took control of the machine gun himself, glancing out at the masses of Spanish troops firing down at the approaching tanks and Republican soldiers.
With a quick click, the weapon erupted, tearing into the carefully arranged Spanish lines and catching them off guard.
Soon, all the other machine guns opened up as well — but this time not at the approaching enemy, rather at their own men.
Desperate Spanish soldiers tried to rush up the stairs, but the Germans fought just as desperately to keep them out. Piles of bodies stacked along the staircase.
Outside, the Spanish troops were practically massacred, with nowhere to hide from the crossfire coming from both sides.
Blood ran down onto the grand marketplace of Ávila as explosions tore apart every inch, every stone.
Paul looked at the flocks of survivors trying to flee toward the building — and understood. If they remained here, they'd be trapped. He quickly ordered a retreat.
He blew the whistle Ramírez had given him, loud enough that the general might hear it, then rushed down the stairs with his men, successfully evading the retreating Spanish soldiers by escaping through the backyard.
There they met up with the rest of their group, who had successfully destroyed the anti-air guns.
"Good job!" Paul shouted before they all moved through the backyard, cutting down a few stray Spanish soldiers on the way.
"You think they've heard the whistle?" Hasso asked while running.
"Well—" Paul began, but another sound stopped him.
He looked up, spotting German fighters and bombers diving down in formation.
"GET DOWN!" Paul shouted, dropping to the ground as his men followed suit.
A series of enormous explosions tore apart the city hall, engulfing what remained of the building in a hellish fireball.
They slowly got up again, watching the apocalyptic scene.
Paul turned to Hasso. "It seems they did."
With that, the city of Ávila — an important supply hub and strategic location — was officially in Nationalist and German hands.
The feat had been achieved by only around a thousand soldiers, four tanks, and a handful of artillery.
And by a man who had been declared dead long ago — risen from the dead.