Paul stood before a meeting table once again. This time, there were far more people gathered in the wide room. Generals, admirals, politicians. And the Führer.
A large map lay spread across the table, a single area marked in red.
Paul's gaze lingered on the crimson shape, his thoughts drifting back to a conversation he had held two weeks earlier.
He glanced down at his hand. Red soaked into white, the color of dried blood staining the bandages. He exhaled slowly. His wounds still had not fully healed.
A hand settled on his shoulder.
Paul looked up to see Werner beside him, leaning against the metal railing. The sea below them was rough, violent waves occasionally splashing high enough to wet their hands. Yet the U boat cut steadily through the Atlantic, unshaken.
"You know, I've thought about it all," Paul began, his eyes fixed on the raging water, his hair fluttering in the wind."So much, actually, that we somehow ended up here. I thought about James."
The name still felt like venom on his tongue.
Werner let his gaze wander across the endless sea.
"It still feels unreal to me," he said quietly. "Two, maybe two and a half years ago, I had a smartphone in my pocket. I was driving an electric car, wearing sweaters, T shirts… I don't know when it happened, but my hand stopped reaching for a phone that isn't there anymore. My feet have started to remember the clutch again. And I've even begun to like the new suit I bought in New York."
Paul listened in silence, the words clinging to him heavily.
"I feel like I've changed," Werner continued. "Or maybe that I was changed. A lot."
Paul remained silent for a moment before speaking.
"Do you want to know the truth, Werner?" he asked, still staring at the sea.
"I don't remember them anymore."
Werner turned toward him."Whom?"
"Their faces," Paul replied. "I can't remember them. Whenever I try, someone else appears in my mind. A different woman. A different child. A different family."
He turned to Werner for the first time, his eyes glistening faintly. Whether it was the sea breeze or a forming tear was impossible to tell.
Moments later, the sharpness returned to his gaze.
"There's no helping it," Paul said. "This is us. This is our life. I accepted it when I remained a soldier. I accepted it when I gave the order to kill countless men. And I accept it now. If we accept it, then we can change this world. We were granted a chance. As thorny as it may be, we must use it."
He tightened his grip on the railing. Fresh blood began to drip from his hand.
Werner nodded slowly.
"I will change history," Paul said quietly.
"First… I have already done much...My closeness to Hitler..."
Fragments of the meeting flashed through his mind as he lifted his head again. His attention shifted to the man speaking at the table.
"Tomorrow, at eight o'clock, the Wehrmacht will occupy the Sudetenland," Hitler commanded, slamming his fist onto the table for emphasis.
Paul and the other officers saluted.
After the meeting, Paul and Hitler spoke briefly.
"Jaeger, I trust you," Hitler said. "You and your panzers will represent German splendor."
"Of course, my Führer," Paul replied. "We will. We will free the Germans from Czech oppression."
The sounds of tanks echoed through the lone street. A long column of the war machines driving, the chechiz border already in plain sight. Squads of soldiers marching between each tank.
"So this is was freedom sounds like?"Paul muttured, his words completely unaudible through the loud Panzer III protoype he was sitting in.
The silhouette of a checkpoint soon appeared in Paul's field of view, and he raised his hand, bringing the long column to a halt.
He climbed out of his vehicle, two German soldiers immediately following him and taking position behind his shoulders. Paul walked slowly and deliberately toward the two Czech soldiers standing beside the barrier.
"Good day," Paul said, addressing them. The two men glanced at each other for a brief moment.
"A good day indeed," one of the soldiers behind Paul muttered, earning himself a sharp glance from Paul.
Paul pulled a piece of paper from his coat and stepped closer, holding it almost directly in front of one soldier's face.
"By the Munich Agreement, the Sudetenland, all its inhabitants, resources, and valuables, are part of the Third Reich as of today." Paul paused, his eyes drifting away from the frozen soldiers who still had not moved a muscle. "Step aside," he added, his tone turning dangerous.
Before either soldier could respond, a voice suddenly rang out from the small hut beside the barrier. A man rushed outside, his uniform unbuttoned, a white undershirt visible beneath.
"Anton, Mikhail!" he shouted, scolding the two soldiers rapidly in Czech.
He then turned toward Paul, who raised an eyebrow.
"I apologize, sir. You may pass," the officer said, gesturing toward the barrier as it began to lift. The two soldiers hurried to raise it fully.
"You and your men will leave the Sudetenland," Paul said coldly. "This land is now under the sovereignty of the German Reich."
The officer nodded hastily, apologizing once again.
The column resumed its advance, soon approaching its destination, which loomed on the horizon.
"Reichenberg in sight, Herr Oberst!" a soldier shouted from inside the tank.
"Indeed. Continue onward," Paul replied, climbing back down into the vehicle.
Inside the cramped interior, Paul reached for a small, telephone-like device mounted in the corner. A radio, a feature he himself had pushed to be installed in all Panzer III tanks.
"Oberstleutnant Manteuffel?" Paul spoke into the receiver.
A second later, Hasso's voice answered.
"Yes, sir?"
"We have reached the outskirts of Reichenberg. All major administrative and critical infrastructure will be secured immediately," Paul said. "I will take the First Battalion and seize the city hall and city center. You will take the Second Battalion and secure bridges and the small dirt airfield."
"Understood," Hasso replied.
Soon, the long column split in two. The citizens of Reichenberg watched the approaching troops, some seeing invaders, others liberators. Their emotion in their tears revealed the difference.
"Glory to the Fatherland!" one man shouted, tears of joy running down his face.
Nearby, a bald man yelled something in Czech before spitting on the ground, making his intentions equally clear.
Despite the mix of celebration and hatred, the column pressed forward toward the city hall. Dark smoke rose into the clouds in its direction.
"They are burning documents," Paul remarked, his voice betraying little interest.
When the first tanks rolled onto the plaza, they surrounded the building, heavy turrets covering every inch of the old brick facade.
Infantry formed clean lines in front of the structure, rifles raised in anticipation. Only one man moved calmly forward, his boots striking against the worn stones of the square.
Paul's gaze suddenly shifted upward.
Other officers and soldiers followed his eyes.
From one of the windows, something was thrown out. A small piece of paper, its edges burning. The wind carried it across the plaza before it landed directly in front of Paul, who had tracked it the entire way.
He stepped forward and crushed the paper beneath his boot, smothering the flames.
"Arrest them all," Paul said quietly, yet loud enough for the officers around him to hear.
In the next instant, hell broke loose. Dozens of squads surged toward the building, shouting as they rushed past Paul.
The sharp click of a camera echoed nearby. The sound came from a device held by a man standing just a few steps away. He was burly and short, yet a broad, hearty smile stretched across his face.
"I must say, I love working with you, Herr Oberst," Thomas Scholz said, adjusting his helmet as the first shots rang out from inside the building.
Paul only smiled slightly his mind wandering as it has so often on this fatefule day back to his talk with Werner.
"Second...presentation...popularity, is what I need if I want to be succesfull."Paul said to Werner.
"I will do the exact opposite of James's approach. I need to become a major public figure. And although I already am one, I need to be even more present," he said.
"Using your journalist friend?" Werner asked skeptically. "Even if he is approved by Goebbels, who knows how long Goebbels will tolerate you running your own propaganda."
Paul thought for a moment before answering.
"Then he will have to go," he said calmly. "But first, I will meet him face to face."
Werner nodded, taking a puff from the cigar he had barely managed to light in the heavy moisture surrounding them.
A loud explosion ripped Paul back into the present.
The doors of the city hall were breached with a thunderous blast, splintering apart as Wehrmacht soldiers stormed inside.
Soon, a red flag was raised above the city hall, a sight that terrified some and filled others with joy. The same scene unfolded in every major city across the Sudetenland, Reichenberg only one among many.
Another thing all these cities shared was the division of their populations. Images of riots clashed with images of flowers. Petals burned in the streets, the arsonists ruthlessly arrested by the Wehrmacht.
On this day, the Sudetenland became part of the Reich. Perhaps only on the map.
Others refused to even replace their old maps, their defiance certain to meet deadly consequences...