Author's Note: The 365 Project is an experimental multi-fandom project to write and post at least one short every day for the next year, not including my semi-regular bi-weekly updates. For more details, see the relevent section in my profile. This is The 365 Project, 6 June.
In the immortal words of Samuel L. Clemens... "Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot. BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR."
Disclaimer; I don't own or make money from Hetalia or any characters thereof, using them without permission for entertainment purposes solely. Yes, readers, I can write a Hetalia story that doesn't feature the Confederacy, as unbelievable as it seems.
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"Overlord"
By J.T. Magnus, 'Turbo'
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Normandy peninsula,
France
June 6, 2014
Three men stood there in the first rosy-fingered rays of dawn, the quiet of early morning and the still peace of the coast before them at complete odds with the sounds of gunfire and screams echoing through the memories of each man, memories forever entwined with the place they stood.
"La Fayette, we are here," Alfred remarked, look out across the sandy beach before them.
"It has been a long time since that day, hasn't it?" Arthur commented.
"Too long," Francis replied, "And yet, also not long enough, Angleterre, mon frere."
"Millions dead and millions more since," Arthur agreed, "And even though the faces and the names change, we're still fighting the same battles against the same enemies... tyrants and dictators and oppressors. It never ends, does it?"
"Aw, sure it will end, guys!" Alfred threw his arms around the shoulders of the men to either side of him, "We're the heroes, we're going to win eventually. Even if it takes a while, it'll just make victory that much sweeter, huh, Franky?"
"Do not refer to me as 'Franky'," Francis groaned.
"Huh? Yeah, whatever you say, Franky," Alfred shrugged, "All of a sudden, I'm really hungry. Come on, let's go get some hamburgers!"
Moving his arms into a pair of headlocks, Alfred began dragging the other two Nations towards a nearby town.
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'Omaha' beach,
Normandy peninsula,
France,
Seventy Years Earlier...
Three men stepped off the landing craft, the first wave of ground troops flowing around them to secure the breach in Hitler's Festung Europa, the Nazis' 'Fortress Europe'; two of them supporting the third whose arms were around their shoulders, weakened in body but strong in spirit. He had been asked not to come, but Francis refused to remain in London with the Free French government-in-exile, despite the fact that the Nation was in bad shape, having suffered every abuse that the German's had inflicted upon his country and his people over the last six years.
Supporting Francis on the right, Alfred looked around at the Allied ships landing, the soldiers fighting to establish their beachhead, the men dying on both Allied and Axis sides of the battle and softly commented, "La Fayette, we are here..."