"Paul, what is this?" Elisabeth asked, visibly stepping back.
"It's… the past," Paul replied, a weariness in his voice, watching Elisabeth's gaze.
"The past? What happened in Spain?" Her eyes widened.
"War isn't heroic. War isn't fun. War is darkness, Elisabeth. I don't know what your father told you…" Paul tilted his head slightly and closed his shirt again, hiding the countless scars covering his torso.
"Heinrich… I… I'm sorry. I am so sorry. You poor thing," Elisabeth whispered, tears streaming down her face.
"Don't be. You did nothing wrong," Paul said quietly. "Your reaction… it's natural."
"Do you want to tell me?" Elisabeth asked, her tears slowing down.
Paul sighed. "I was captured in Spain. They had me locked up day and night. Like a dog," he said, his voice colder than ice.
"When I refused to answer his questions…" Paul began, "He cut me. He punched me. He whipped me…"
The growing rain outside cut Paul's last words short. Drops were piling up on the windshield of his car.
"Then....He let me rot." Paul's voice grew hoarse, a faint wetness gathering in his otherwise motionless eyes.
Elisabeth said nothing. She only listened, her eyes wide and frozen. When Paul finished, she threw herself around him, hugging him tightly.
For a moment, Paul felt peace, yet the look in his eyes returned, this time not sadness, but anger.
"The man I'm talking about is dead. He died long ago, together with everyone else who ever touched me."
Paul pushed Elisabeth slowly away from him, freeing himself from the hug.
"I slaughtered them like livestock, every single one of them." Paul said, looking Elisabeth right in the eyes.
"So you see, Elisabeth, your reaction is normal. Being appalled is obvious. It's natural to be scared of me, of the man I became," Paul said, as the car rolled to a halt in front of a wealthy looking mansion.
Elisabeth and Paul shared a deep gaze.
"Don't push me away, Paul. I know what you are trying to do. I don't need to be protected," Elisabeth said softly, almost whispering.
Paul averted his gaze and exited the car. He walked around it, opening Elisabeth's door.
She looked at him with eyes as deep as the ocean.
After a moment she stepped out, walking toward her home, alone.
Paul watched her with his jaw clenched, rain running down his face, soaking his hair.
Weeks later
Paul stood once again in rain. The cold February rain was soaking him from head to toe, yet he didn't move. Water dripped from his officer's hat onto the binoculars, his hands steady despite the cold.
In the distance he watched a tank driving forward while firing its machine guns toward a forest not far away.
He was overseeing a field exercise near Berlin.
"Quite the clever manoeuvre." A voice sounded from Paul's side.
Paul lowered the binoculars, a middle-aged man appearing in his line of sight.
"Oberst Manstein," he saluted.
"Jäger," he answered. "Your assessment of Manteuffel's manoeuvre?"
"He has done well, as you said, although I would have put my entire force into that ambush. I would have put around seven of ten tanks into it, and the rest would attack from the normal front, where the enemy would have rushed to defend the ambush. That would create an encirclement," Paul answered, putting his hands behind his back.
"Not bad, Jäger. But assume the enemy refuses both baits and contracts its perimeter, allowing one force to fight both your attacking ones? How do you respond?"," Manstein asked, smiling.
"We would have the same situation as before the ambush. That's true."Paul admitted.
Manstein stepped closer, his hands folded neatly behind his back."Exactly, his ambush was well executed," he said calmly. "But Manteuffel relies too heavily on the element of surprise. He does not account for what a seasoned opponent would do."
Paul nodded slightly. "He trusts that the enemy will react the way he wants them to."
Mannstein nodded.
For a moment both men stood silently in the rain, watching the rest of the armored platoon maneuver into position. Officers shouted orders in the distance, their voices muffled by the downpour. Mud splashed as another vehicle made its way forward.
Then Manstein raised his hand, tilting his head toward a nearby officer. The officer picked up a field telephone lying on a small table.
A few seconds later a sharp whistle cut across the field. Tanks and soldiers alike came to an immediate halt.
Paul and Manstein climbed into a waiting truck and rode toward the main training ground.
They arrived quickly and jumped down, greeted by mud-covered, rain-soaked soldiers and… Hasso.
He saluted both Paul and Manstein, then placed his hands behind his back.
"Hauptmann Manteuffel," Manstein began. "Your ambush was well executed and a good idea, yet poorly planned. You did not account for the variables an enemy might employ and simply relied on the element of surprise."
Manstein turned, addressing the gathered group of soldiers and officers. They straightened immediately.
"This may suffice against the French or the British, perhaps even the Russians, but it does not suffice for the German Wehrmacht. We strive to be quicker, smarter, stronger. We strive for perfection." He shouted the last words across the rain-soaked field.
Some soldiers nodded slightly, others sank into quiet thought.
Hasso too looked as if he were contemplating deeply.
"Don't think too much about it, Hasso," Paul whispered, stepping closer to him.
"Yeah," Hasso muttered, keeping his head down.
"You did better than the other seven tank company officers. Manstein is harsh, but only someone like him can make you improve. And after Spain… you already have real experience, something the others can't claim. Now you just need to understand your own potential," Paul said, patting Hasso on the shoulder.
"Thank you. I will," Hasso replied, gratitude in his eyes.
In truth, Paul knew that what Hasso lacked most was confidence. After a failed battle in Spain he had been one of the sole survivors, most of the men under his command dead. Sperrle had decided to send him home, a decision that shattered the young officer's spirit.
Now it's my responsibility to build it back up. In the end it's because of my butterfly effect that this happened. And overall, the entire Spanish battlefield is far more advantageous for our side than in the original timeline, Paul thought. Perhaps the conflict would end within the year, two years earlier than it originally had.
Paul and Manstein climbed back onto the truck, this time heading toward a more distant part of the training grounds.
By the time they arrived, the sun had broken through the clouds again, casting a pale, late-afternoon glow over the field. Droplets of rain still clung to the vehicles and mud-splattered soldiers, sparkling faintly in the light.
They entered the grand building, being led through wide corridors to a special office.
Inside, they saw an older man, clad in a meticulously decorated Wehrmacht uniform, the weight of his medals and insignia reflecting both authority and decades of service.
Paul and Manstein saluted immediately.
"Gentlemen," the man said, acknowledging their salute with a brief nod.
"General," Mannstein replied. "We have concluded the tank exercises, Operation Storm."
"Good work," the general said, gesturing for them to take seats.
Werner von Blomberg, Paul thought, letting his calculations run freely as he studied the old general, the Commander-in-Chief of the Wehrmacht.
A key player, he analyzed silently, noting the quiet authority radiating from the man.
Paul felt the small notebook tucked in his breast pocket as he listened to Mannstein discuss the performance of the Panzer I and the newly arrived Panzer II. He occasionally added a detail or two, his voice measured, weaving his observations into the discussion.
This man will lay the foundation for everything, soon… Paul thought, watching Blomberg closely.
----------------------------------------
Thank you all for the support! I appreciate every Power Stone, comment, and review.
There is gonna be the first major time skip, in the next chapter.