porta00

They no longer march. They no longer smile.

Poland is falling, but not surrendering.

Falk and his crew push forward across Polish fields, never knowing if the next crossing will be their last. The Panzer is no longer a symbol—it is a shield, a prison, and a rolling grave.

As borders burn and the world answers with fire, five men who once shared training and silence now share doubt, smoke, and blood.

The Leibstandarte SS Adolf Hitler has been chosen to break the way forward. But roads aren't cleared by orders—they're cleared by bodies.

Amid brutal engagements, tactical decisions, and commands that aren't always understood, each of them will begin to wonder what it truly means to obey… and what remains when duty has consumed everything else.

There is no return.
Only war.

Leibstandarte: Point of No Return Book II

Moscow, September 17th, 1939

Stalin listened in silence as Molotov read the reports. The Wehrmacht had already crossed half of Poland, advancing with a precision that even surprised the Soviets.

"The Germans are clearing the West, Comrade. It's time to claim what is ours," Molotov said, dropping a map onto the table.

Stalin lifted his pipe without looking at the paper.

"Make it look orderly. We don't want to appear as scavengers."

"Let them. The West has signed its sentence of irrelevance. We are collecting what history owes us."

The order was sent. Within twenty-four hours, the Red Army would cross into eastern Poland.

London, September 3rd, 1939

The British Parliament was a hive of tension. Chamberlain, paler than ever, took the floor with a grave voice:

"We have exhausted all efforts to avoid this war. But Germany has invaded Poland, and today, with sorrow, I announce that we are at war with the Reich."

In the corridors, however, not all were convinced. Some MPs whispered:

"This Germany doesn't resemble the one from 1914… nor the one in the pamphlets."

"Perhaps. But it moves like a machine. And if we don't stop it here, we won't stop it at all."

Paris, the same day

Daladier's cabinet was divided. General Gamelin pushed for immediate mobilization, while others spoke of restraint.

"If we cross the border, we'll sink again into the Eastern trap."

"And if we don't, the Germans won't stop," replied a young minister.

In the end, the weight of the alliance prevailed. France declared war—not with enthusiasm, but with resignation.

Berlin, Reich Headquarters

The atmosphere was tense. In a map room at High Command, Hitler stood with his arms crossed behind his back. In front of him, several generals and senior staff officers exchanged figures and cautious glances.

"France and Britain have declared war," said Keitel in a neutral tone.

Hitler didn't respond immediately. He walked toward the window and watched the rain fall on Berlin's rooftops.

"I didn't expect them so soon," he murmured. "Not completely."

One of the generals, Brauchitsch, spoke in a measured tone:

"The army is ready for Poland. But not yet for sustaining two long fronts."

"There's no choice. We will not retreat. But I won't pretend this was the plan. We've been pushed into a war we are not yet ready for."

In another wing of the HQ, Colonel Albrecht received the news alongside his subordinate officers.

"Will the Führer regret crossing this line?" one asked.

"I don't think so. But he will ponder it every night. And we will be the ones advancing while he does."

Falk, standing near the operations map, muttered:

"Then let's advance. Even if the future is still clouded."

And in silence, the gears kept turning.

Chapter 7: While the World Watches