The orders arrived the next morning, sealed with red wax and stamped with the heraldic eagle of the Luftstreitkräfte.
They were slid beneath Heinrich's door before dawn, as was tradition, no trumpets, no ceremony, just the quiet inevitability of duty.
Heinrich awoke before the sun, as he always did. A habit Erwin had taught him years ago:
Wake with the world, not behind it.
He knelt, picked up the envelope, broke the seal, and read.
ASSIGNMENT: 3rd Air Wing, Jagdgruppe 11
LOCATION: SICILY
REPORT: IMMEDIATELY
He held the paper between his fingertips for a long moment, letting the weight settle.
It wasn't fear that crept into him, it was the sense of crossing a threshold.
Berlin was safe, even flight school, for all its rigor, had been safe. Sicily was not.
He rose, dressed in his flight leathers, buckled his harness, and strapped on his sidearm with a practiced motion. Every piece of equipment suddenly felt heavier than it had the day before.
