The bridge across the river was their only escape. Behind them, the Soviet tanks rumbled closer. Ahead, the span stood intact, waiting.
Feldwebel Weber led his men across at a dead sprint, boots pounding wood, breath ragged in the cold. Halfway over, a young soldier stumbled, his ankle twisting.
Weber grabbed him, hauled him up, kept moving. "Don't stop. Never stop."
They made it. The last man crossed as the first Soviet shell struck the far bank. Weber turned and watched the bridge they had just crossed—their only path, now their salvation.
"Blow it," he ordered.
The charges d
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