Chapter One: Front Lines
Sadly I do not own Hellsing. It would be awesome if I did though
Final Day of the "Sitzkrieg"
The crisp, frozen air was biting at the faces of the British infantry. A light snow had fallen the night before. Life on the frontline of a war that had yet to begin was boring. All they ever did was watch the Germans from across the Siegfried Line. Soldiers on both sides wondered if the war would ever begin.
" Why the hell is France so cold? I thought it was supposed to be warm and comfortable" Private Dollneaz asked is friend
"Its called winter Wally. Get used to it. If this 'Sitzkrieg' continues, we'll be seeing a lot of this. Plus you were thinking of French summers you moron." Beck told Walter
"Well excuse me. I was just asking a ques-… What's that noise?"
"READY THE LINES!" a loud, booming voice yelled at the men along the front
"Oh that cannot be good. What, are the Gerries flexing their muscles again?" Walter groaned.
Overhead Walter calculated that at least one hundred Heinkel HE 111 bomber aircraft were crossing over the Seigfried line. As the first line of ten German bomber aircraft passed over, the bomb-bay doors in the aircrafts bellies opened wide. Hundreds of black dots descended from the openings in the massive aircraft.
"Oh dear God no." a Walter said to himself
The bombs hurtled towards the Earth at immeasurable speeds; their target was the battalion command post outside of Hultehouse. This is called decapitation. Destroying the military leadership so the army is decrepit and feeble. Bombs rained down upon the city of tents behind the front lines. Disintegrating the helpless men before they could even register the plane noise. That part of the German mission was complete. Secondary objective was to inflict as much damage as possible on the British and French forces.
The planes farther back in the German formation began dropping their payload, with devastating results. Men on the front began spilling out of their trenches and ran for any cover possible. Yet, this barren, wintered land provided no protection for the group. Firey death rained from the sky like a remorseless god, infuriated with humanity and its insolence.
"Beck we have to get out of here or we'll defiantly be killed! I'd rather die from a well placed bullet than a lucky bomb!"
"Righteo Wally lets haul out of here! I hope the new guy Churchill has some good plans, cause if the Nazi's fight like this, we are in trouble!"
A couple yards down the line, a bomb landed on three soldiers trying to escape their trench. Screams were cut short by the explosion. As the blast incinerated the three men, fragments flew in all directions. Just before the bomb hit Walter fell to the ground and draged Beck with him. If they ewre staniing they would be speaking to St. Peter at that moment.
"Holy shit!" Walter said as the explosion settled down and nothing remained of the three men that were standing there. Walter turned towards Germany and yelled at the top of his lungs, "YOU BASTARDS, WHY MUST YOU DO THIS AGAIN?!"
Almost as if knowing Walter had said this, infantry and Panzer tanks moved into view. The tanks powered along the flat ground into France. The remaining British and French forces tried to initiate some sort of offensive against the massive. The tanks stopped and began breathing their deadly fire. More explosions rocked and cratered the ground. Walter fell when one shell landed several feet in front of him. Walter tried unsuccessfully to climb back to his feet. Beck, who had also fallen down at the shattering impact, but was quicker to rise.
Beck helped Walter to his feet and they ran from the oncoming onslaught. Slightyl deaf from the explosion behind them, they made way for the only place they could think of. They quickly reached the location where the former regimental had been. What remained of the thirty or forty people was strewn about in the snow. Walter felt something rise up in the back of his throat.
"Oh God. This is what war is." Beck said solemnly. "Come on Walter lets keep going. We can hurt these damn Nazi's more if we fight it in the city over there."
"I'm not taking another step Beck. If this is how the whole war is going to be, I'd rather die now, I won-" Walter began
"SHUT UP! Pick your sorry ass up and march to that building right now!" Beck yelled
With this sudden outburst, Walter fell backwards. Beck had never talked to him like that. He realized that defeatist talk has never won battles. He rose to his feet with renewed vigor. The two hastily made their way to the first building available.
"Lets take up positions in the top floor and spend the night" Beck said commandingly. Walter just nodded his approval
That Night
"Walter… Walter wake up. I think the Germans have left. I can't hear any guns. Man the French and us Brits pulled out pretty damn quick." Beck whispered to Walter.
Walter crawled over to a window and peeked out. You never knew when a lucky soldier was looking into the window.
"No there are still some of them. But you're right about the gunfire. From what I can tell these ones are probably the clean-up." Walter said
While he was saying that, one of the soldiers on the ground looked into the windows of the house that Walter and Beck were hiding in. Seeing the helmet move above the windowsill, this peeked his curiosity. Twenty other fellow soldiers followed him. They reached the house that the two now trapped British soldiers were hiding in. They began beating against the wall because their hands were too rigormortised to be able to grasp the handle.
"What the hell is that noise? If they saw us wouldn't they be trying to go through the door?" Beck asked to no one in particular.
One of the dead soldiers beat against the door enough and it gave way. They all rushed in, hoping to be the first to the next meal. They trudged up the stairs to the second floor outside of the bedroom where the two men resided. Even though Beck and Walter had barricaded the door it stood no chance against the power of twenty ghouls.
"Get ready Walter, here they come."
But the ghouls never broke through the door. They heard calm, relaxed footsteps come up the stairs, then gunfire and moaning, and finally silence. The only thing to go through the door was a stray bullet.
"What the bloody hell is going on out there? Shouldn't we be being killed right now? Not that I'm complaining."
Beck and Walter removed the bed that was barricading the door and carefully ventured out into the hall.
"I bid you gentlemen a good evening" A red clad figure said before it walked down stairs. The figure dressed in red had strange clothes, nothing that people from the 1940's would wear.
"Hey, wait who are you." Walter said running over to the top of the stairs, "hey where did he go, he hadn't reached the bottom of the steps."
"Hey Walter, check this out. Wouldn't there be dead bodies out here if there was a gunfight. There are only piles of dust and strange bullet casings out here."
"What are you talking about? People don't just turn to dust from being shot."
"Walter I don't think they were people, look at this bullet. From what I can see, it looks like silver."
"No and I don't care Beck. I think we should leave this town. Find the British line and get back to fighting."
Walter and Beck left the building and made the difficult and dangerous trudge to try and meet up with the British. During the night they never sensed the red eyes that were following them at all times. Watching over his British brethren even if they were not of his kind. To took a liking to the men called Beck and Walter.
"I expect many great things to come from this Walter fellow." The figure clad in red told to himself. "To bad their battle spirit will be broken very quickly"