Chapter One: The Line Breaks

  Snow fell in thick silence as the wind cut across the trenches. Commander Weiss stood still, eyes fixed on the eastern horizon. Behind him, the last of the radio chatter from Army Group Center had gone silent.

  A young soldier rushed to his side, boots crunching in the snow.

  "Sir—I've been transferred to Army Group South. Intel confirms it. Zhukov, and Konev have combined their forces and broken through. Army Group Center is in danger of being surrounded."

  Weiss nodded slowly. He already knew. He had felt it in the air—like a string pulled too tight, ready to snap.

  Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

  "How many men do we have left?"

  "Not many, sir. Maybe sixteen hundred able-bodied. Nearly seven hundred wounded. Almost eight hundred dead."

  Weiss didn’t flinch. “Then we delay them. As long as we can.”

  The soldier hesitated. “The tank contingent is stuck in the mud. They won’t reach us. And the Soviets have already crossed the rivers. We’re engaged."

  Weiss turned to the men gathered in the trench—faces pale, uniforms ragged, some barely more than boys. "Then we make every meter cost them."

  ---

  They held for three days. When the order finally came, it was brutal and simple: fall back to the Vistula.

  By then, they had lost more. Every step was paid in blood. Weiss walked among the wounded, searching for one face.

  “Hans?”

  A voice croaked nearby. “Here, Weiss. Still breathing.”

  He knelt beside him. “Like a brother, Hans. We’re not done yet.”

  ---

  As they reached the Vistula, Weiss turned to address his remaining men.

  “You marched through snow and mud. We were hunted, yes—but we endured. And here we stand, by the river. For the Reich. For Germany. This isn’t the end. Not yet.”

  The soldiers, too tired to cheer, nodded. And began t

  o dig.

  They knew the enemy was coming.