The outskirts of Greater London were a mess of smoke and broken stone.
Tom and Michael sat inside a ruined house where the walls were laced with holes and torn wide open. They both leaned against the cold masonry. This place had probably been a family home once, a comfortable spot in an average suburban neighborhood.
Tom reloaded his gun with practiced efficiency while the sounds of battle raged all around them. A British tank nearby erupted with fire every few moments. Two machine gun positions, one in an old elementary school and the other hidden in a bush, fired steadily toward the enemy.
Michael looked at him, his face smeared with blood and dirt.
"Ready?"
Tom just nodded silently.
An artillery explosion erupted nearby and sent flocks of dirt falling onto the wall they were leaning against. As if on signal, both men shot upward with their rifles raised.
The scene stretching out before them was breathtaking, but not in a good way. There was a small market square with pavement torn open by craters. The outer shell of a British armored vehicle burned on one side of the plaza. On the opposite side, two German tank wrecks stood still. One was burning while the other was covered in rubble and bricks from a collapsed house.
Dozens, perhaps hundreds of Germans lurked behind the opposite houses. Shots rang out continuously as the distant rumble of tanks echoed through the air.
Tom pressed his trigger. His first shot barely missed a German soldier hiding behind a supply truck. The soldier widened his eyes and quickly raised his rifle toward their position. Tom dived under the wall and then reappeared instantly. This time he was quicker. The German soldier clasped his chest and fell backward onto the ground.
Tom breathed heavily. His blood pulsing through his veins.
Another soldier appeared from further left. Michael managed to hit him.
Then Tom saw a peculiar target. A man was trying to climb out of a burning tank wreck.
Tom watched for a split second, squinting his eyes, before finally pressing the trigger. The German, who had barely managed to leave the wreckage, shook as the bullet hit his chest. He fell over the edge of the tank and hit the ground.
"Nice one."Micheal said, but his voice was hoarse. He was clutching his shoulder. Tom looked at him for a moment.
"Are you okay?"
Michael nodded.
"Don't worry."
Tom clenched his teeth.
"I won't leave you behind, you understand?"
Michael nodded slowly, though he seemed not entirely convinced.
"We should change positions..."Tom began, yet his breath suddenly got stuck in his throat.
His eyes were glued to the soldier he had shot by the tank. The man lay motionless, yet a massive group of German soldiers was rushing past his body. Their submachine guns were shouting loudly as two fresh Panzer IV tanks thundered through the middle of them.
Tom shouted and grabbed Michael by the uniform. He yelled into Michael's ear that German reinforcements were here. They staggered to their feet while trying to stay low.
Explosions and gunfire erupted all around them.
The rumbling of planes sounded from above. Through a hole in the ceiling, they could see the outlines.
"Ju-52."Michael hissed.
"More Germans."Tom added.
As Michael and Tom staggered through the back door, the British tank behind them exploded into a thousand pieces. The blast tore open another part of the house. Above them, dozens of black dots appeared in the sky and slowly grew bigger.
Paratroopers.
While they were limping away, their silhouettes growing smaller and smaller, their bodies slowly disappearing into the distant destruction and flames, another shadow appeared.
Climbing out of a tank, pushing his sleeve aside, he glanced at his silver watch.
He stood there proudly, surrounded by dozens of soldiers and more and more tanks breaking through houses, still firing into the distance.
"There you are," General Heinz Guderian said, his sleeve falling back into place as he put his hands behind his back.
From above, a group of paratroopers descended, coming closer and closer, carefully landing one by one on the cleared space of the plaza in front of Guderian.
All around them, paratroopers were descending, but the center of attention was the three men in front of him. The one in the middle laughed quietly as he removed his shoulder straps.
When he was finished, he met Guderian's eyes with confidence and walked toward him.
The two men looked at each other sternly for a moment before suddenly embracing like brothers.
"Guderian, you old fox."
"Student, who allowed you to jump personally?" Guderian asked, shaking his head.
They stood beside the corpse of a German soldier, who was being carried away like a wet sack.
"I allowed myself!" Student answered proudly, tapping the insignia on his shoulders.
"General?" Guderian asked with a nod, patting Student on the shoulder while muttering a few words of congratulations. Yet his gaze drifted past Student's shoulder.
"You allowed yourself?" Guderian asked mockingly. "Then who are those?"
Student pressed his lips together for a moment.
"This is Knecht and Leitner. They are from the Ghost Squad," Student admitted. "The Führer insisted," he added.
Guderian nodded, eyeing the stern-looking, broad men who had not moved an inch.
"I get shivers every time," Guderian whispered as he led Student away from the plaza.
After sometime, the General opened his mouth again.
"News from Berlin?" He asked.
"There is indeed something," Student whispered, tilting his head toward the two Ghosts silently trailing behind them.
He looked towards Guderian again.
"The Führer has met with Eastern-looking delegates. At least, that is the latest rumor I have heard," Student said.
Guderian nodded, stroking his beard.
"Most likely the Japanese. Perhaps we can delay American intervention further," he analyzed., with evidend intrest.
Student nodded.
"He seems almost otherworldly at times."
Guderian scoffed.
"He does. Perhaps God truly is with Germany... and the Führer."
Student looked at Guderian with slight surprise.
"Are you a strong believer, Heinz?"
Guderian stopped, meeting Student's eyes.
"In the Führer? Yes."
"In God..." Guderian looked around them, at the destruction, the death, and the suffering.
"Is this his work?"
The words echoed through the epitome of destruction the two men stood in, like a silent hammer striking where it hurt the most.
While the German army stood before London, another move was being prepared in silence.
"Your Highness, the King has asked that you evacuate now, together with the Royal Family," an attendant said shakily as he stood inside the golden-laced doorway.
Slowly, the woman sitting before a small vanity mirror turned, shock written across her face.
"Are the Germans already this close?" she asked.
The attendant nodded grimly.
"Where does His Majesty intend to go?" she asked, holding her white-gloved hand before her mouth.
"Scotland, Your Highness."
"And he intends to take me with him? A distant relative, a forgotten monarch of a small country?"
The attendant nodded.
"Of course."
"How nice of him. I will join him."
The attendant nodded before quietly closing the door behind him.
The woman turned toward the mirror once again, her soft, fearful expression now gone.
She looked at herself with something much darker, much harsher in her eyes.
Beneath the table, her hands trembled.
A small parchment rested between her fingers.
"The Duchess of Luxembourg," she said quietly to herself. Her title sounded so grand, yet she remained nothing more than a plaything for those around her.
What else can I do other than protect my people? They have yet to realize the horror of war. Who knows what he will do to them... she thought, clenching her fists.
She knew she had no choice.
Luxembourg had remained mostly unharmed in every aspect, and that was thanks to one man and one man alone. The very same man who had visited her back then. The same man who could change all of that in an instant.
That was why she always did what she did. Why she sneaked around. Why she accepted what was asked of her.
"But this... how should I do this?" she whispered, staring at the parchment with fear and worry in her eyes.
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