Disclaimer: Neither Hetalia or it's characters are mine.
Nor is the song 'Letters from War', that is property of Mark Schultz
Alfred frowned and fiddled nervously with his collar once again. Even though the top two buttons of his standard-issue button-up shirt were undone, he still felt as though he were being choked.
Giving up, he sighed and looked out the window of the bus, watching as the many dusty fields flew by. Around him, the atmosphere of the bus was quiet and strained. It was filled with young men, all dressed similarly in the tan military garb, all waiting anxiously to reach their destination: the US Military training camp in Kansas. There, they would enter basic training before being shipped off to Germany.
To war.
He hadn't really had a choice but to enlist, but even if he had had one, he would've. Alfred felt an obligation to his country, to protecting it. As soon as he had turned 18, he had signed up.
Besides, he didn't really have anything to stay for. His parents had died two years ago in a bombing raid whilst on vacation in England. After that, the rest of his family hadn't wanted anything to do with the boy, though he didn't know why.
Groaning loudly again, he turned his head and gave a wry smile to the boy sitting next to him. His best friend, Matthew, was looking straight forward, his eyes intense and worried.
"Hey, Matt, it's ok! This'll be fun! We can be like heroes!" Alfred encouraged uselessly, though he still wasn't convinced himself.
Matthew looked back at his friend, a sad smile on his lips.
"Yeah, I guess so Al… But I'm still worried. I don't know what will happen to my mom if I were to… you know…"
Alfred frowned slightly, he couldn't imagine how Matt felt. He had someone worth fighting for, and living for. But himself, he had nothing. No one to fight for.
He shrugged off the thought, plastering a fake grin on his face once again, though his blue eyes didn't reflect the sentiment.
"We'll be okay, Matt. We'll make it home!"
Matthew smiled back, grateful for his friend's fake optimism. He always had to be the hero.
After another hour of travelling down the bumpy, dirt road, the gray concrete buildings seemed to rise out of the farmland. Alfred and Matt drank in the sight of the low buildings with the distant forms of recruits running here and there across the empty fields.
The other men in the bus began to shift nervously, gathering their things and preparing to enter the training center, knowing that there was no going back once they entered. They would soon be at war.
Alfred and Matthew were the last off the bus, preferring to let the others exit first. The pair slung their dark-green bags over their arms and hopped quickly down the stairs and off the bus. In the pit of his stomach, Alfred felt an uncomfortable knot forming, the anxiety getting the better of him.
They gathered on the outskirts of the group that were waiting in a loose grouping as who appeared to be a high-ranking officer. He looked over the group of 18-year olds as if inspecting a large piece of meat, his gray eyes cold and poisonous.
"Gentlemen. I am Colonel Jorginson. Let me be the first to welcome you to two weeks of hell. This camp will break you. Here, you will be turned into soldiers. Soldiers who are prepared for war. After your two weeks here, you will be shipped out. Some of you will face the Krauts. Some of you will face the Japs. Both are deadly and will kill you if you give them the chance, do you hear me? You must follow all of your head officers here or you will die out there." The man said, eyes flickering from frightened face to frightened face.
"Now. You will be taken to the sign-up where you will check-in and receive your tags. Then, you will be assigned your bunks and then taken to the dining hall for dinner and opening speech from the director of camp. Tomorrow morning, you will begin your training."
The recruits were then taken to the main hall for sing-up. When Alfred finished, he put his dog-tags around his neck, fingering cold metal indented with his name: Alfred F. Jones, and recruit number. Beside him, Matthew just stood there, looking at his tags as if they were cursed.
Alfred nudged him and gave him another encouraging smile.
"C'mon Matt, they're just tags. It's all going to be ok, alright?" Alfred encouraged, looking at his friend intently with honest blue eyes.
Matthew smiled back reluctantly before looking down at his tags that read 'Matthew Williams' and pulling them over his head of dark blonde hair and the single hair that stuck up from it.
After putting their bags in the bunk room, the group made their way to the mess hall and quickly found seats after being served the barely recognizable grub from the camp kitchen. Then, the head of the camp gave the assembled recruits a speech similar to the one by Colonel Jorginson earlier. When the man finished, they finished their food (or the slop that was called food), and returned to the bunkhouse.
Back at their bunks, the two boys got ready for bed quickly. From his bag, Matt pulled an old, tattered polar bear plush, much to Alfred's amusement.
"You brought that?" He asked incredulously.
Matthew blushed and buried his nose in the soft plush.
"You know I take it everywhere, Al…" he said softly, "I couldn't just leave it at home.."
"All right, Matt." Al said with a snort, "Just… don't let the other guys see it.."
Matt smiled at the other man before climbing gratefully into his bed.
The next day, the boys were rudely awoken by a familiar tune played on the overhead speakers by trumpet.
Groggily, they jumped out of bed and stood at attention at the foot of the bunks, awaiting inspection. However, Alfred, who was a very heavy sleeper, was immune to the loud trills of the instrument. Despite Matthew's attempts, the boy snoozed on.
As the officer walked in, Matt hopped down from the steps of the bunk and turned to stand in line with the others, deciding to leave Alfred to face his own consequences.
As Colonel Jorginson reached the bunk towards the end of the row, he stopped and looked up angrily at where Alfred's snoring roared loudly. Silently, he picked up a glass of water sitting by the bed and silently walked up the stairs leading to the top bunk. Then, suddenly, he splashed the entire glass directly onto Alfred's head.
Alfred spluttered and sat up quickly, searching around him for the sudden awakening.
Calmly, Jorginson hopped down and continued down the line. Alfred took the hint and got down quickly, putting on his glasses and joining Matthew in his place in line. On his way back, Colonel Jorginson stopped in front of him.
"Bathroom duty. Two weeks" was all he said before he turned on his heel and walked out the door.
"Bathroom duty? What the heck is that?" Alfred asked another man standing next to himself.
"Bathroom cleaning. All you're given is a toothbrush and a bucket of soapy water." The man explained with an apologetic look. "I had that when I first got here! Name's Steve, by the way." He said, holding out his hand.
"Nice to meet you, Steve. I'm Alfred, Alfred Jones," he said, introducing himself. "Say, what's that accent? I don't recognize it." He asked.
"Australian, mate. I just transferred here to the states." He explained, scratching his nose where there were two bandages, then holding out his hand to shake, which Alfred did amiably. "And you are?" he asked while holding his hand out to Matthew.
"I'm Matthew, nice to meet you!" Matt said, shaking his hand.
"So when are you getting shipped out, Steve?" Al asked, pushing his wet blonde hair out of his eyes.
"Two weeks, you?"
"Same, we must be on the same crew, then!" the boy replied with a smile, pleased to know he would at least be shipped out with someone he knew, other than Matt.
"Fantastic! Say, we better get a move on if we want to get some breakfast that's at least semi-edible." The Australian said with a laugh.
Laughing good-naturedly, the three walked out to the mess hall before heading out to their daily training.
Two weeks later, they were shipped out.
AN: My first war fic! :D
And it has Australia! I honestly didn't intend to have him in here, but I for some reason pictured that guy with an Australian accent, so it stuck!
No Arthur quite yet! But, he will probably show up in the next chapter!
This story was inspired by the song 'Letters from War' by Mark Schultz (though you won't really see why, yet XD) But, you should you go look up the song, it's really beautiful!
Thanks for reading and reviewing! :D