The roar of engines was deafening inside the belly of the transport.
Metal walls shook with every gust of turbulence, bolts rattling, the smell of oil and steel mixing with sweat.
Oberstleutnant Erich von Zehntner sat hunched over the radio set in the armored command vehicle lashed to the floor of the hold.
His gloved hands rested on his knees, but his knuckles were white all the same.
Around him, aides checked straps, maps, the delicate wiring of their communications rig.
Each man moved with the precision of practice, yet beneath the discipline of their training Erich could feel the same gnawing that gripped his own gut.
They had drilled this a thousand times.
Joint exercises with the Belgians. Simulated deployments across the Reich's fields.
Countless hours rehearsing every step of airborne doctrine until muscle memory had replaced thought.
But this was no exercise.
