The damp morning air clung to Moreau's skin as he tightened the strap on his field cap.
The garrison had been awake long before dawn, soldiers moving between supply depots, refueling vehicles, and checking their weapons.
He stood near the lead Citroën-Kégresse half-track, watching as the final preparations were made.
Renaud leaned against the side of the half-track, arms crossed, watching the infantryn finish their equipnt checks.
He took a long, slow breath before muttering, "I hate morning patrols."
Moreau smirked slightly, rolling his shoulders as he checked the strap of his revolver holster. "You hate all patrols."
Renaud gave a half-hearted shrug. "True. But I hate border patrols even more. They always start the sa way boredom, silence, the occasional dead rabbit in the road. But they never end the sa way."
Moreau didn't disagree.
They were preparing for a routine reconnaissance mission, yet there was nothing routine about the situation.
The missing patrol had left too many unanswered questions, and the unusual reports of activity near the border had everyone on edge.
Lieutenant Berger approached, straightening the leather strap on his map case as he ca to stand beside them. "My n are ready. We'll take the western route along the farmland and ridgelines. Your group will move east, through the woodland route."
Moreau nodded. "If we find anything, we'll signal. No unnecessary risks. Keep formations tight."
Berger's face remained unreadable, though his fingers twitched slightly over the map case. "I hope this is just a long walk in the mud, Capitaine."
Moreau exhaled, glancing at the dark tree line in the distance. "So do I."
Behind them, the convoy was lined up and ready.
The Renault R35 tank stood idle, its engine humming low, exhaust curling in the morning chill.
The infantry squads were finalizing their gear, adjusting rifle straps, securing ammunition pouches, and checking their FM 24/29 light machine guns.
"Alright," Moreau called out, raising his voice just enough to carry across the group. "Standard reconnaissance formation. Lead squad, fifteen ters ahead. Half-tracks stay at the rear. Renault keeps distance but stays in visual contact. No one separates."
The soldiers gave short nods, falling into position with trained efficiency.
Renaud stepped beside him, his rifle slung lazily over his shoulder. "Shall we?"
Moreau sighed, stepping forward. "Let's move."
The convoy moved slowly along the damp dirt road, cutting through rolling fields.
The morning was quiet too quiet.
Moreau glanced toward a nearby farmhouse, its chimney sending up a thin wisp of smoke.
A middle-aged farr stood near the fence, arms crossed, his gaze locked on the convoy as they passed.
Renaud, walking beside the half-track, turned his head slightly. "They're watching us like we're ghosts."
"They've lived near the border long enough to know when sothing isn't right," Moreau muttered.
As they continued, they passed a cluster of children standing near a well, their wide eyes following the soldiers as they marched past.
A little girl, no older than seven, whispered sothing to an older boy beside her.
Moreau caught only two words.
"Les disparus."
The missing ones.
Renaud glanced at him. "They know."
"Of course they do," Moreau muttered. "News moves faster in small towns than in Paris."
The dirt road narrowed as they approached the last checkpoint before the border, a small outpost with sandbagged defenses and a raised wooden watchtower.
A gendar stood at the entrance, rifle slung over his shoulder, his uniform slightly disheveled.
Moreau signaled for the convoy to slow.
He stepped forward, taking a asured look at the soldiers stationed at the outpost.
They weren't many.
Twelve n, a single half-track, and an old Hotchkiss M1914 machine gun mounted at the tower.
These n weren't expecting a fight.
The gendar captain, an older man with a thick mustache, stepped forward, gripping a worn leather notebook. "You're the n from Verdun?"
Moreau nodded. "Capitaine Moreau, 3rd Armored Division. We're here to investigate the missing patrol."
The older officer exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "rde… I told command this was serious, but they didn't want to listen."
Moreau raised an eyebrow. "What do you an?"
The gendar exchanged a glance with one of his n, then took a step closer. "The patrol wasn't just scouting the usual paths. They were investigating sothing."
Moreau's jaw tightened. "And what was that?"
The officer hesitated before looking toward the tree line.
"There were tracks in the woods, beyond the old outpost heavy ones. Tire marks. Not French. Too wide for farm equipnt, and they didn't match anything we use."
Moreau felt a cold certainty settle in his chest. "And you didn't report this?"
The older officer laughed bitterly. "Of course I did. Command said it was 'paranoia.' They said the Germans wouldn't be stupid enough to risk an incident here, not yet."
Moreau exhaled sharply.
It was exactly what he expected to hear.
Paris didn't want a war.
Which ant Paris didn't want evidence that one had already started.
Behind him, Renaud shifted uneasily. "So the missing patrol wasn't just unlucky. They found sothing they weren't supposed to."
Moreau nodded slowly, scanning the edge of the dense woodland. "And whatever it was, soone made sure they wouldn't talk about it."
The radio operator approached, adjusting his headset. "Capitaine, we've confird signal strength with the garrison. We'll check in every thirty minutes."
Moreau nodded. "Good. I want updates on the half-hour, no exceptions. If anything happens, we don't wait for orders from above."
The patrol squads were already moving into position, spreading out in staggered formation as they prepared for the forest sweep.
The Renault R35 remained at the rear, its turret swiveling slightly as the crew adjusted their sights.
Moreau turned to Renaud. "We take it slow. Keep track of every movent, every noise. If sothing feels wrong, it probably is."
Renaud sighed, shifting his rifle. "Why do I get the feeling this is going to be one of those days?"
Moreau smirked. "Because it already is."
The patrol stepped forward, disappearing into the shadows of the forest.
The trees closed in around them, the air turning colder.
They were officially in the unknown now.
And Moreau knew, sothing was waiting for them in the dark.
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