Capítulo 7: Orders to March

The air with summer heat was killing as Max and the other recruits gathered on the training grounds.

The past month had been a blur of relentless drills, harsh lessons, and rare moments of camaraderie, all under the watchful eye of Sergeant Weber.

They had pushed their bodies and minds to the limit, each of them transformed in ways they hadn't imagined.

But today, there was a different tension in the air.

The men stood in silence.

Weber's face was unreadable as he paced in front of them, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.

"Men," he began, his voice steady but carrying an unusual weight. "This morning, news came in. Austria has declared war on Serbia. As of today, Europe is on a war path And soon, Germany will follow."

A murmur ran through the group, faces turning pale, eyes widening as the news sank in.

They had all sensed the tension in the world around them, the rumors of alliances and threats, but hearing it stated so plainly made it real in a way that none of them had truly prepared for.

Weber's voice softened, his eyes sweeping over them. "You've trained hard. You've pushed yourselves beyond what you thought possible, and every one of you has become a soldier. But soon, you'll face something that no drill, no lesson, can truly prepare you for. In a few days, we'll march out, and your training will be put to the test."

Max felt a shiver run down his spine.

The drills, the endless hours of marching, the bayonet practice, suddenly, it all felt like a prelude to something far greater, and far more terrifying.

Weber took a deep breath, seeming to struggle for words. "I know I've pushed you. I know you've hated me for it. But understand this: every word, every order, every curse, it was all to keep you alive out there. I don't want to see a single one of you fall because you weren't ready."

The men listened in silence, their faces a mixture of fear, determination, and something close to respect.

Weber was a hard man, but they could see now that his methods, brutal as they were, had been for their own survival.

Karl leaned over to Max, his voice a low whisper. "So, this is it. We're really going to war."

Max nodded, his throat tight. "Yeah… it's happening."

Weber cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him. "Orders came in this morning. In two days, you'll be deployed to Belgium. Our objective is to push through and secure territory as we advance. You'll be part of the frontline, and from that moment on, every lesson you've learned here will mean the difference between life and death."

He paused, looking at each of them in turn, his gaze lingering on Max. "You've come a long way in a short time. I'm proud of every one of you. You're not the same boys who walked into this camp a month ago. You're soldiers now, and I'd be honored to fight alongside any one of you."

The silence that followed was thick with emotion.

Max felt a knot tighten in his chest, a mix of pride and fear swelling inside him.

Weber's words struck a chord, and he knew, in that moment, that he wasn't just fighting for himself, he was fighting for the men beside him, for the bond they had forged in the fire of training.

Weber continued, his voice softer. "Tonight, take some time. Reflect on where you are, who you are. Write to your families if you need to. Tell them whatever you want, because in two days, the only truth that'll matter is the one you face on the battlefield."

A few men looked away, blinking back the beginnings of tears.

Weber's bluntness, his refusal to sugarcoat what lay ahead, somehow made it easier to accept.

Otto, standing at the back of the group, raised his hand awkwardly. "Sir… are you coming with us?"

Weber's gaze softened, a flicker of something like sorrow crossing his face. "I'll be there. I'll be right there in the mud with you. And I'll do whatever it takes to make sure as many of you as possible come back."

It wasn't much of a promise, but it was enough.

Weber was one of them, and he was preparing to lead them into the unknown.

Later that evening, the mood in the camp was strangely subdued.

Weber had given them the night off, allowing them a rare moment of freedom before they set off.

Some of the men sat around small fires, talking quietly, sharing memories and fears they had never voiced before.

Others wrote letters home, trying to find the right words to say goodbye without admitting their own fears.

Max sat beside Karl, Otto, and Reinhardt, each of them lost in thought.

Finally, Karl broke the silence, his voice soft.

"Guess we don't get to keep pretending anymore," he said. "This is real now."

Otto nodded, staring into the fire. "You think we'll make it? Out there?"

Max shrugged, trying to keep his voice steady. "Weber trained us for a reason. He didn't put us through all that just to see us fall."

Reinhardt gave a bitter laugh. "Doesn't matter how much training you have when bullets start flying. Luck's about half of it."

They fell silent again, each man grappling with his own thoughts.

After a while, Weber appeared, carrying a small, worn book.

He sat down by the fire, the men falling quiet as they watched him. "I used to have a squad, years ago. Good men, every one of them. We went through hell together, and not all of us made it back."

He looked up, his eyes sharp. "Some of you might have wondered why I'm so damn hard on you. Why I've pushed you to the edge every day. Well, it's because I want you to have a better chance than they did."

He opened the book, showing them a faded photograph of a group of young soldiers, smiling and carefree. "Most of these men didn't come home. I'm still here, carrying their memory, and I'll be damned if I let history repeat itself."

The men looked at the photograph in silence, the faces of those long-gone soldiers staring back at them like echoes from another world.

Weber closed the book, tucking it back into his jacket. "You all think you're invincible. That's how it should be. But remember courage isn't just about standing up and charging forward. It's about knowing when to hold back, when to look out for the man next to you. If you want to make it, you've got to rely on each other, like a single unit."

He looked around at them, his gaze lingering on each face. "And if you do that, if you stick together, then maybe, just maybe you'll come back. And if you do, you'll be the ones sitting by the fire, telling stories to the next batch of wide-eyed recruits."

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Finally, Weber stood, his voice carrying a note of finality. "Get some rest tonight. Tomorrow, we make final preparations. And the day after… we march."

He turned to leave, then paused, glancing back at them. "I'm proud of each one of you. I've been hard on you because I know what's coming. But you've met every challenge I've thrown at you, and you've earned your place here. So take pride in that. Remember it."

With that, he walked away, leaving the men alone by the fire.

They sat in silence, understood the knowledge that they would soon be facing a reality beyond anything they'd ever known.

As the fire crackled and the stars shone overhead, the men sat together, each lost in thought, bound by a common purpose.

In two days, they would march into a world changed forever, and all they could do now was face it with the strength and resolve that Weber had drilled into them.

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