WW2 AU
Not Germancest
i don't own Hetalia Axis Powers
I looked up from the battered piece of paper as a jet black raven flew over my head, sounding his arrival with a low caw. Flapping his wings a few more times, he landed on the back of my tank, talons clanking on the cold metal. I shoved the paper into my pocket, as if the raven knew what it was. He hopped from one side of the tank to the other, cawing and squawking at me. I stared at it distractedly, my mind elsewhere.
A blast sounded to my left. The raven beside me started and flew off, joining two others heading in his direction, his squawking getting quieter. A bitter wind blew through the field, opening my coat around me, as I stepped from my tank onto the grass. I strode over to where the rest of the squadron was stood, staring at the explosion with wary eyes, whispering in pairs and threes. Smoke billowed into the sky, filling it with dark clouds, making the field look eerie and strange.
Two children came towards us, kites in hand, their mouths opened with amazement as they stared at the massive smoke clouds ahead of us. They then focused on our tanks and saw what we were and became even more excited. They ran up to the nearest men and chatted animatedly, occasionally pointing at the explosion, the soldiers bending down to their height to talk to them properly. After they'd had their fun, we sent them back to their village for safety.
The men fell into formation upon hearing my command. Then the bombers flew overhead, the pilots saluting us as they sped past on their way to the air base. One plane in particular caught my eye. The head of the pack, the name Ludwig scrawled on the side in white paint, the best pilot in Germany. I thumbed the paper in the inside pocket of my coat, before shouting another command. The tanks moved slowly, soldiers marching in time next to them, as we made our way further into the countryside.
After 2 hours of non-stop walking, we reached our base. The soldiers immediately went to their camps, changing their dirt ridden clothes, before heading to the mess hall for "dinner". The tanks were lined up neatly under shelter at the back of the camp. The sun had set an hour ago, leaving most of the camp in darkness, the only light coming from the large flood lights in the four corners of the camp.
I wasn't hungry and I wasn't tired. I was miserable. This war was messing with my head. I used to live a fairly normal life, until my parents died in the Great War. My granddad took me and my brother in and trained us to be soldiers. From then on, it's been day after day of grey and lifeless people, all formal and miserable, following insane orders. I love my country, but this is out of hand. There were only two things that keep me from going mad, one being my brother (though he can be as formal to me as my superiors sometimes) and two being the paper in my pocket.
Early the next day, we were given orders from the superiors of the utmost importance. Soldiers ran frantically around the camp, shouts and orders barely being heard over the loud alarm blaring throughout the base.
We formed our ranks efficiently, and took off once again, planes flying in all directions, tanks surrounded by thousands of men. I felt uneasy, an empty feeling filling my stomach. We were silent for the whole journey, only the sounds of steel toed boots on the ground and the loud engines could be heard. Nearing our location, you could see smoke and hear the guns, the bombs, the screams. I felt physically sick. The smell of burning flesh was strong, even inside the tanks. Quickly getting over my disgust, I opened the hatch to shout at the soldiers stood by the battlefield. Knowing that most would likely die, I kept the orders short and void of any emotion. I clenched my fist, knowing how stupid all this was.
They ran through the carnage. Gunfire rained down on us from all angles, leaving hardly any men alive. The tanks advanced slowly, blowing up the buildings in which the enemy was hiding in. I gritted my teeth as my tank was shot at for the umpteenth time, groaning at the relentless gunfire. Then a loud explosion was heard in front of us. We ducked as we thought they were for us, but I heard the familiar roar of our bombers engines. Sighing in relief, we brought our bodies back to normal height, before advancing further.
Then time seemed to slow. Sound and vision didn't exist. One minute I was shooting the enemy the next I was stuck, lying under a piece of burnt, twisted metal, my ears ringing. I couldn't feel my legs, which were trapped under the warped steel, my vision blurry from the blast. I turned my neck sideways, looking through the smoke to find everything had stopped. There was no gunfire, no bombs, not even a single soldier standing.
I tried to move my body, but it felt as if there was an invisible weight pulling me further into the ground. I tried to shout, but no noise came out. I felt nothing but pain. I looked down at my hand, grateful to see the paper was still there, dark against my pale skin. Its edges were charred, like the skin on my arms. I heard my name, quietly at first, but loudly the more it was said. I craned my neck frantically in all directions, unable to find the source of the voice, until I saw a shadow. I recognised the man immediately. Ludwig. I tried shouting back, but once again found myself unable to speak. I managed to lift my left hand, the one not currently occupied by my paper. I caught his attention after a few minutes of erratic waving. He rushed to my side, his face showing multiple emotions. More emotions then I'd ever seen before.
He looked me over, his eyes widening at my wounds. Tears glistened in his baby blue eyes, his blond hair messed and dirty, it was a sight that made my heart clench. He then hurried to free my body of the metal, but it wouldn't budge. He grew more panicked and frantic by the minute. It wasn't until five minutes later that I understood why. Through the fog, men circled us with guns pointing in our direction. I grabbed for my brother, pulled him down next to me, and just held him. We shared a knowing glance, and he put on his poker face. I felt tears sliding down my face, landing between us. I heard the click of guns around me. I took a deep breath. Opened my eyes. Held onto my brother with one hand. Held the paper in the other. I looked at it one last time. My beloved.
My picture.