AN: Hey guys, this is my first story in this fandom. It's a oneshot, so unlike my other stories, you won't be left waiting for updates.

8man is a little OC in this one, at least when he goes into his personal thoughts on the nature of what is right, and the order of the world. I mean no offense to any countries on Earth, implied or otherwise. 8man in a military setting is something I've been intrigued in for some time, no thanks to another great story featuring a Colonel Hikigaya. This story though, is more about 8man descending into a bad state, and then coming out of it, for a brief moment of glory. Hope you enjoy. Please review! I felt a little sketchy about some of his ranting...

Edit: Thanks for all the support. I've improved the grammar and fleshed out some rushed bits. Keep the reviews coming!

Hikigaya Hachiman 'Hicks'

'I need a clip, now!'

'Here! Uggkkhkk-!'

'Matt!'

I ignored them as I continued to fire my weapon. Who the fuck would give away their magazine to someone else when they themselves needed it? My rifle kicked against my shoulder. Such foolish self-sacrificial tendencies… Accepting one's own death for the greater good… I took in the many bodies lying on the ground in the plaza. Some were clad in everyday clothes. Jeans, track shoes, sunglasses. Others wore collared shirts and pants the colour of the sand. Guns were strewn everywhere. In a building to my 2 o'clock another blue helmet jumped back, and threw his gun to the side. Another man clad in civilian clothes followed the arc of his fall, and the two disappeared in a cloud of dust and splinters.

It's all well and good to lay down your life for the greater good, but what is the greater good, really? I gritted my teeth as my latest shot missed my target by a hair and instead caused it to fall back behind cover.

Lies is what it is.

The world belongs to those who win, and those who win are seldom good in any sense of the world. You don't have to be good to win, but you have to win to be good.

History teaches us this, and so does life around us. We who are alone, who take the less popular view, however correct it may be, are and will forever be shunned by those around us. They ask, 'how could anyone think that way?', 'surely no one can be so bad?'. Only people who are stupid and idealistic can go through life without noticing its flaws. Only people who are naïve and purposefully blind can accomplish the immense feat of willpower that is ignoring the injustice and the wrongness that is our society today, where humans can give up their lives for mere machinery and objects, and entire nations' suffering are delegated to the rear pages of a newspaper, barely a column long when the latest gossip of social faux pas by politicians eats up the headlines.

This is in itself of course, another kind of strength. But the fact that these people are the ones who lead any group does not testify to their inherent good making them the ones to come out on top. As the previous monologue has demonstrated, these qualities are hardly good. But the people who can willfully ignore these things are strong. And so it is that strength decides the balance of power, not justice.

'RPG! Hicks! Get down!'

I dived to the ground, bearing my face into the dirt as something screamed past where my head had been previously. With a deafening boom, the ground shook and for a second, the evening battlefield was lit up clear as midday. More young enemies rushed forward, and were mostly mowed down by our mounted machine guns. One got close. I raised my weapon and fired from the hip. A projectile sliced straight into his kneecap, sending him careening forward from the impact. My bayonet found his chest as he fell, and even while his lifeblood gushed from the wound and he gurgled his last breaths, I took his mags.

In a note to President Roosevelt* in 1945, Rear Admiral Rinosuke Ichimaru of the Imperial Japanese Navy wrote this of the US's patronage of Stalin's USSR in WW2 and concurrent desire to stamp out Japan and Nazi Germany: If only brute force decides the ruler of the world, fighting will everlastingly be repeated, and never will the world know peace or happiness.

Even a monster of logic such as I can appreciate the irony and hypocrisy here. Japan lost the right to talk about peace as soon as it joined the race to rule the world with brute force. The two truths of America's hypocrisy, and Japan's own, coexist. Then what is the truth?

'Get your head out of the gutter, Hicks! HICKS!'

I nodded, and fired my weapon again. A truck that just pulled onto the scene disappeared in a flash of fire and smoke, lighting up the battlefield and its former occupants. I left them alive, as they burned and screamed for mercy. They made a good distraction, and also there was no need to waste my ammunition.

Once again history teaches us the lesson of how to live life. Japan faced an existential crisis. If it joined the colonial powers, it lost its claim to legitimacy. If it stayed as it was, it would eventually be conquered. Japan chose the wrong way to handle it, and hence, was ultimately defeated. Its survival as a nation however, was guaranteed by the next conflict to grip the world, and which also answers this conundrum that I was faced with.

The Cold War. Capitalism vs Communism in much the same way Equality fought Racialism in the previous war. Now though, the concepts they stand for are much easier to quantify. Both the US and USSR had their claims to legitimacy and fame. Both systems worked better than the other at something. When I read to the end of my textbook in high school and realized that like us, the Soviets ultimately lost the Cold War, I was enraged. I ran 10 kilometres that day, and when I returned I still had enough rage in me to trash my entire room.

There was no hope in the real world, in fact even less than in the sheltered world of school. This rage, this utter hopeless anger, grips me now as it always did from the start of my time in the UN Expeditionary Force, watching the youth of countless nations throw away their lives and futures against a hail of steel and fire. Just as the Allies beat the Axis because of their superior logistical strength, we now similarly won our battles because the hierarchical order of strength dictated that eventually, we would win.

Eventually though, I realized that there was no real reason to be angry at the Americans. If, as Admiral Ichimaru predicted, the world would never know peace or happiness, the next question to ask, would obviously be why does the world need to know peace or happiness?

Fuck the world.

'Back to the next line!'

I leaped out of my position and began retreating with the rest of my fellows, firing as we went. Now and then, I stooped to pick up ammunition from fallen colleagues.

It is supreme arrogance to decide that a single person, or nation, is fit to arbitrate the justness of an international order. No nation or person is fit to judge the justness of another nation or person's existence. However, it is also true that no one is more fit to judge one than oneself. As an individual, one can only vouch 100% for one's own commitment to a cause. Attempting to vouch for another is either coercion or guesswork. Neither of which are reliable. Therefore, it is correct to say that self-preservation is not only vital, but moral, since it demands that you try your best to protect the only person you know for sure will do the right thing: yourself.

It took me months to realize this, but when I did it was like a dream come true. The world, was in a twisted way, fair and just. Winners may not be just, but they had the right to try to win, and if they did win, there was nothing to say. America may have ruthlessly crushed Japan and Russia without thinking of the righteousness of that approach, but they had no way of predicting any nation's future development path apart from their own. Better safe than sorry a la 1933*, #Saarland, #DieWachtAmRhein. They had, like it or not, made the only rational choice available to them, as anyone else would have done: to ensure their own survival, and the demise of the foe.

So no one should sacrifice themselves for the greater good? You say. Selfishness is the way to live? What if you live your entire life not doing anything because you're too fixated with keeping yourself alive? Are you an animal?

No, Yukipedia. The next wave of attackers arrives with a unit of tanks. Hastily cobbled together, old models, but dangerous nonetheless. My thrown grenade does no damage whatsoever.

'You just need to do the right thing. If the right thing is to die, then do it.'

'But how would you know?'

'You just will.' I smirked. 'When you know it is your time to do the right thing, then you will do it. But until then, you must do your best to keep yourself alive. Otherwise, you will surely go insane. No one is worth more than yourself.'

Yukinoshita's face was dark, her eyes covered by the shadow of her bangs.

'Is that what you say now…?'

I was confused.

'Is that what you say after Yu-Yuigahama-san died for you?!'

I was thrown to the floor with the utter force of her shove. When I looked up again I was looking at a strangely heated version of your typical Yuki-onna. Yukinoshita's vibrant blue eyes, though shining with tears, glared daggers at me, her fists clenched and quivering.

'So dying for you was the right thing?' She asked softly, looking straight into my eyes. 'Throwing away all her hopes and dreams to stand in front of that truck for you, was the right thing?!'

Well…

I had nothing to say. I simply looked away. Well, perhaps it was… It's not like Yuigahama had anything big going for her anyway..

Yukinoshita's gasp told me that my habit of saying my thoughts out loud had betrayed me again.

'You monster,' she said, backing away from me. 'And to think Yuigahama-san… no, to think I…!'

'Leave,' she said, ignoring my shocked gaze. 'Leave, and never come back to this room.'

'But…' I grappled for words. 'Hiratsuka-'

'I'll handle it, so get out!'

The moment Yukinoshita turned her back on me, I knew there was nothing left to be said. I stood, and slid my light novel into my bag.

'Emotions should never get in the way of an objective evaluation of the truth,' I said.

A cup sailed past my head and shattered with a loud tinkle against the door frame. It was my black Pan-san cup. I softly closed the door behind me.

The year after, I joined the UN Expeditionary Force*. Japan's army was a shade of its former self. I joined the UN Army to learn how to take care of myself, to gain information about the world from the tours of the force, in the process learning how to survive. For free. If I were to keep myself alive, there was nowhere better to learn this than the military. I would leave behind everything that was holding me back, and begin anew in the grit of the real world.

Now here I stood, with 10 of my colleagues, 10 of 39 who had once been my fellows in the regiment. Here in some wartorn country in the middle of nowhere on the map, fighting for the safety of people, half of whom didn't even want us here. Us, in the trenches, and those charging towards us despite the futility of it all, dying for no fucking reason at all.

The irony of this situation is not lost on me, even as my commanding officer's words go in one ear and out the other. I who advocated self-preservation above all else, was probably closer than anyone I had ever known to death. Even as I thought this, I came up with a logical explanation. All conflict is about control. There are wars over food, wars over land, but fundamentally one fights for the right to control the destiny of the conquered spoils. Therefore, one takes up arms to retain one's ability to have control. Even my theory of self-preservation rested upon the idea that one's destiny was only fit to be decided by oneself. You fight, and prevent yourself from dying, so as to be able to continue to have a guaranteed stake in the destiny of whatever you care about. For one such as I who joined an established army and gave up control of my own destiny to another so willingly, I may only blame myself. Ah, F-A-E indeed, Herr Brahms. Frei aber einsam, or 'free but alone'. This decision to come out of loner-hood was wrong, as expected.

'Commander, let's leave!'

'Yeah, fuck this country. As long as it never reaches our own places, there wouldn't be a problem right? No one needs to stay, fuck this! We're not even getting paid to die!'

I grimly observed the commander, who seemed at a loss for words as he was confronted by his men. Captain Ramos from the Philippines was a good-natured man, but I'd seen his type many times before. Idealistic, happy to give up something for others to make them happy, and fucking bad at making other people follow his example. As he weakly tried to talk down the bickering soldiers, I knew that there was little time left to be wasted at this shitshow. The rumble of tanks, the shouts were growing closer. In the distance, my teeth clenched harder as a blue helicopter went up in flames.

'Ah, excuse me, sirs..'

We all turned to face an innocent-looking civilian woman, unremarkable apart from a golden sash from her shoulder to her hip which distinguished her as the leader of the people who had once populated this hellhole.

'We are very sorry', she bowed, as she spoke in terrible English. 'but we need just a bit more time to evacuate the children in the hospital 5 blocks down. Please excuse our slowness, and thank you so much for helping us! Do you need food? I have brought some here!' As if to make things worse, she brought out rations and some water bottles from the satchel she carried on her shoulder, offering them to my distraught colleagues.

'Now listen here, lady-'

'Enough,' I spoke up at once, silencing the group immediately. Ignoring the curious eyebrows from Ramos, I proceeded to tell her, in her native language, that we were just about to discuss what to do about the whole situation. It would hence be much more helpful, if she were to decrease the number of liabilities we had to protect, and have food and water waiting for us when we returned. Bowing thankfully, the woman retreated.

'Yo, Hicks,' said one of the other soldiers, a Malaysian named Asher. 'The fuck was that?'

'I don't know.' I said, to their surprise, and to tell the truth I didn't know either. I only knew one thing. That woman's eyes. Brown and unremarkable like the rest of her, but yet glowing with brightness and love. A love for the people around her, a love for the soil and the air. She'd even come to offer us food and drink when her own people were running for their lives, their country completely torn up into shreds.

Despite all the darkness that was around her, despite the death and the destruction, she was still trying.

If she'd had obnoxious pink hair and a huge chest, perhaps she would have reminded me of someone else I once knew. A long time ago.

And the children. You are all the treasures of this nation. wrote Vice Admiral Takijiro Onishi* in his final note to the youth of Japan before his suicide in 1945. Pfft. I could laugh at that. If gold was treasure, then the youth of Japan now were black gold. They were as flammable, malleable and slippery as oil itself, after all. But these young ones here, even those who were bearing ever closer to us on the other side of our trenches. They had spirit. They had fire. The ones in the hospital lacked both, but not of their own accord.

They deserved a chance. A chance to regain control of their destinies. To live to realize that chance. To become the treasures of their nation.

In that instance, a wry smile crossed my face, and several of my colleagues flinched as I began to laugh. 8 years denying this, all for nought. Perhaps, the time has come.

'I'll stay.' I said simply, and there was a collective murmur of disquiet.

'Don't flatter me with your tears.' I looked up. 'Japan is more than an ocean away from this fucked up place. We have the best technology in Asia and the third best army. Japan can afford to lose me. India, Pakistan, Ukraine, Turkey and Kazakhstan are all nearer to this hellhole.'

'But the captain-'

'I know you have a child,' I said, looking Ramos in the eye. His eyes shone with tears that mingled with the sweat and dirt running down his face. 'Asher, you haven't even had a university education. Oleksandr, your sister is waiting for you to go back home with a paycheque, not a life insurance payout. Don't ask me how I know. It's not Ramos's fault.'

'Besides,' I smiled. 'If Philippines stays, you wouldn't want to entrust your fate to a fuck up like me, would you?'

A moment of silence. The wind blew across the trenches, carrying with it the smell of smoke and corpses, as well as the shouts of approaching foes.

Almost unanimously, 9 of the 10 made their decisions and ran off into the distance towards where the woman had come from. Not even a thank you.

I tried to ignore Ramos as I settled back into the trench, checking the ammunition on one of the few operational machine guns left.

'Hicks… Hikigaya,' he finally said, coming down beside me and tossing a few spare belts towards me. The long chains of bullets fell beside me. 'Why'd you do it?'

I shrugged. 'No reason. What's left for me in Japan anyway?'

I was unceremoniously dragged about to face him, while he stared into my eyes with incredulity. 'Whatever you just told them!' he shouted. 'Your family, friends, your dreams! Why should theirs be more important than yours! I should stay!'

'Enough, captain,' I snapped, freeing my arms with a quick twist. 'I've been a loner all my life, I have no friends. My dreams? To be honest this world feels more like a nightmare to me.' I gestured around my person. 'Look how fucked we are as a people. Our own living in comfort, in luxury, in ignorance, even while others fight for every second that they continue living. Fight for a destiny that they can believe in.

'I want to do at least one thing right in my life.'

I barely registered the shock on Ramos's face as I said that, my own chest suddenly swelling with an emotion I hadn't felt in a long time. Pride, enthusiasm, faith. I just… believed. I smiled a little at my own delusions, believing the world would be all well once I died here. Believing this sacrifice would change anything. Well, it wouldn't. But for a group of 10 lowlifes who had also come here to prove something, and for the children in that hospital whose staff had probably already deserted their posts or died, it would change everything.

And that was enough for an old devil like me.

'Besides,' I mused, reviving my old chuuni. 'They're all very talented guys.'

Ramos laughed, and clambered out of the trench.

'Well, ganbatte then, Kaga-san*,' he said. I turned back to my work.

'Hey.'

I turned around just in time to catch a black and white device being hurled straight at me. What the fuck was that? I turned it over. 12 buttons, a screen, and an antenna.

'Talk to someone before it's all over,' said Ramos as he walked away. 'Let someone know you're doing it right.'

I rolled my eyes. Sentimental old fool.

It did not take me long to finish the preparations for my last stand. Three belts' worth of MG shots, and a wire that linked itself to the ammunition depot barely 20 metres away. There were no more bullets in there, and no more food. But there were several rocket warheads from the 1967 war that still remained in their shelve brackets, and mines. And fuel.

All that was left to do was wait.

Idly I fiddled with the satellite phone from my position. Its batteries were half full, but it had more than enough juice left to call whoever I wanted. Who was there to call, really? Mom and dad basically disowned me the moment I enlisted in the military. Komachi stopped writing after my first 2 years of silence. My life reset had turned out exactly the way I wanted it, and now left me lost in this grey no-man's-land*. The voices got louder. It wouldn't be long now.

It's a strange feeling, knowing you're about to die. It's scary of course; my hands jittered as I laid the charges. But at the same time, I felt content. I had chosen when and how I was about to die. My destiny was fully within my hands.

That swelling feeling in my chest still hadn't gone away. I still hadn't found a word to describe it. The closest thing to it would be the feeling of throwing a basketball, fully expecting it to go into the hoop, or writing an essay you know will score well despite what the sensei thinks. The feeling of simply knowing. Knowing that this meant something. And of course, knowing that soon, the pain of existing would end.

Ah well, I began dialing a familiar number, laughing at my own hypocritical sentimentality. The world was hypocritical, naturalism be damned, I'd join in too. Now I only had to hope she hadn't changed it.

In 2 rings, the owner of that cell phone picked up.

'Yukinoshita Yukino, speaking.'

My mind froze for a second. Was it really her? Ah, fuck it, the voices were almost here now.

'Yo.'

There was a sharp intake of breath, before the other person's breathing stabilized. 'Hikigaya-kun,' she said calmly, without a hint of malice. 'What a surprise after all these years.'

'Likewise, Yukinoshita-san,' I said, firing my first shot with the MG. All the approaching enemies instantly dove to the ground, convinced that a sniper was near.

'Hikigaya-kun?' she asked, confused. I could hear people murmuring in the background on her phone, and a rough, dragging sound. 'Where are you?'

'Doesn't matter,' I said, firing another shot. By chance, this one hit somebody in the head, and the shouting intensified as he crumpled. I nearly dropped the phone as something whistled past my head again. The explosion shook the earth, and I shifted to protect the phone from falling dirt, squeezing the MG's trigger again for a longer interval.

'I called to tell you only one thing.'

'Hikigaya-kun?!' Yukinoshita sounded worried now, and seemed to be shushing someone in the background. 'What's happening? Are you hurt?'

'N- FUCK!' I cursed, as another explosion sent a piece of jagged stone straight into my shin. Fuck, now they knew where I was. As I lay there in the trench, the silhouettes of more armed enemies began to approach, backlit by their tank's headlights.

'Well, now I am,' I said. 'But fuck that, there's only one thing I need to say.

'I'm about to do the right thing.'

The feeling in my chest disappeared, replaced by a kind of light, cool, calm, as I finally said the words I had been waiting for myself to be able to say all these years. Nowadays, there is hardly ever a time when you can say that without knowing how empty it sounds. You can do the logical thing, the smart thing, but now, I was going to do, the right thing.

Ignoring Yukinoshita's confused shouts, I threw the phone aside, and drew my sidearm as the first insurgent popped his head over the trench, pointing his weapon at me.

'Surrender, foreign devil!' He yelled, gesturing at me to raise my hands.

I complied. Now raised, my handgun fired straight and true, the bullet piercing him in the neck and ending his life swiftly. From my peripheral vision, I caught a glimpse of the first few insurgents entering the depot.

'Fuck all of you.'

I pressed the button on the remote control in my hands.

Everything went white.

Yukinoshita Yukino

'Hikigaya-kun, Hikigaya-kun?' I yelled into the phone, ignoring the shocked gazes of those around me.

'Yukino-chan, are you alright?'

'Hayato…' I regained my bearings. 'Yes, sorry, the connection was bad. In fact, the call has cut off now.'

It was only later at night, alone in my apartment that I connected the dots. The sudden call, the government number, the shouts, the staccatos, the explosion, and doing the right thing. I sat up straight in my bed, hugging my knees and staring out at the city of Chiba below my apartment. It was beautiful. Glittering with streetlights, silent as the night. Now and then a bicycle soundlessly cruised through the empty streets.

Frei aber einsam*. Free but alone, the motto that violinist Joseph Joachim had adopted for himself. Exactly as I remained now. My only 'friend' to speak of was Hayato, who had kept in contact with me in accordance with his family's wishes. But I'm not blind. I can read Miura's name on your phone, you know…

I remembered that day, when I had forcibly expelled Hikigaya from the Service Club. He had really seemed like… a monster. A monster of logic. So cold, so uncaring of the lives of others. Such people were to be condemned to the wastepaper basket of history, since they would likely not make any difference to it. And to think Yuigahama and I had fought for his… his love!

Society was better off without him. I was sure of it.

It was months before I heard from Hiratsuka-sensei that he had missed school for up to a week after Yuigahama's death, and when he had come back, was a changed man. He avoided conversation even with her, and turned in his assignments with just enough effort put in to pass. His grades fell, and by the time Hiratsuka-sensei could reach out to him, it was too late. Hikigaya Hachiman graduated from Soubu High with average grades, and disappeared into the real world.

It was obvious to the outside observer that he had been grieving inside too. He had always dealt with tragedy alone. This was his first time experiencing the death of a friend with another friend. And what had she done? Cast him out, rejected him.

Just like all the others.

I was feeling bad too, she tried to tell herself.

Emotions should never get in the way of an objective evaluation of the truth.

That hit home. Suddenly, my chest constricted, and my eyes began to sting like the devil. I wiped my tears away fiercely. I'm not crying. I will not cry for that… that monster. I will not!

Images flashed through my mind. The Service Club classroom, our tea set. Baking cookies for Yuigahama. Silence when Isshiki became StuCo President. The Christmas event.

The three of us at Destinyland, Yuigahama pulling us together against either side of her in the picture frame I held in my hands.

Images of what had been.

The shattered cup on the floor of the clubroom. What had become.

I am not crying! I yelled inside.

More images. Three silhouettes against the dawn horizon. Long, black hair, an obnoxious pink bob cut, and a grey-ish rat's nest of hair. In the blink of an eye, the pink bob cut and the rat's nest faded from view, leaving a single person staring out into the rising sun.

What could have been, I realized. And what will never be.

Because of you.

No! I resisted. I denied it.

But slowly and surely, the droplets of water made their way down my face, as I began to sob softly. Hikigaya Hachiman was…gone. The only one who had come even close to understanding me. The one who had for the briefest of moments, shown in himself a heart as compassionate as his brain was intelligent. Someone who strove to do good, genuinely, for others. For us. I slammed the picture face down on the table at my bedside. Yuigahama… Hikigaya… my friends… Both gone. Forever.

Frei aber einsam... Frei aber einsam… Frei aber einsam…

21 July 20XX

Asahi Shimbun Morning Papers, Pg.1

Today, a little known hero was brought back to the shores of our land.

Hikigaya Hachiman, aged 26, was laid to rest in the Yasukuni Shrine today at 1000 hours, following his death in the service of the United Nations Expeditionary Force. He is believed to have stayed behind to cover the retreat of his squad, following the defeat at the Battle of Bose, in the Republic of Serdistan*, which is currently engulfed in a civil war. (READ MORE ON SERDISTAN ON Pg. 3)

Sergeant Hikigaya is the first Japanese soldier to have died in a combat zone since 19XX. The Emperor himself personally attended the burial and ordered full Shinto rites for the honorable Sergeant. Similar services were held at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, and will continue for the next 2 days. The Tokyo Philharmonic Orchestra will be holding a performance of Beethoven's 3rd Symphony, 'Eroica', or 'Heroic' in honor of Sergeant Hikigaya. (TOKYO PHILHARMONIC'S PROGRAMME ON Pg. 13)

A special exclusive interview with Hikigaya Komachi, the late Sergeant's sister, will be printed within the next 3 issues. The rest of the family declined to comment.

The service commences months after the last Intervention in Serdistan ended, and was largely initiated by two unlikely partners: His commanding officer, Captain Philippe Ramos of the Philippine Army, and the possible next Governor of Chiba Prefecture, Yukinoshita Yukino.

It is they who were largely responsible for bringing this to the attention of the media and state, despite his death lacking tabulation in the UN Expeditionary Force's records for weeks after the event.

'He gave me a chance, a chance with my wife and children,' said Captain Ramos, as he cradled his newborn daughter. (image attached here)

'We're helping to show everyone that chance he gave us.' Added Assemblywoman Yukinoshita. 'A chance to do the right thing.'

Reported jointly by Ebina Hina, and Zaimokuza Yoshiteru

Index (Asterisked portions in no particular order)

1) Admirals Ichimaru and Takijiro were real officers who fought in WW2. The original texts that I took their lines from are on display in the Yuushuukan at Yasukuni Shrine in Chiyoda, Tokyo. Pictures were not allowed, but I remembered their names.

2) Appeasement of Hitler in the 1930s leading to him conquering most of Central Europe with no opposition was a major factor motivating the sterner approach of the US to dealing with the USSR after 1945. The Saarland was a territory that was re-annexed by Germany in the 1930s following a referendum where 90% of the people voted to return to Germany. It remains part of Germany today. 'Die Wacht am Rhein' is an old German patriotic anthem centred on the Rhine, the river on the border between 'greater Germany' and France, the 'hereditary enemy' of Germans.

3) Frei aber einsam: 'Free but alone'. Joseph Joachim's personal motto, and referenced by Brahms, Schumann, and Dietrich in composing a joint sonata, the F-A-E sonata for violin and piano, as a gift for his visit to the Schumann household in the 19th Century.

4) 'They're all very talented girls' was a line that aircraft carrier Kaga said to Zuikaku in the popular anime 'Kantai Collection'.

5) Serdistan is a fictional country created for the game Battlefield: Bad Company. I do not own it, but it was convenient. Do forgive me for using it.

6) 'lost in the grey no-man's-land' is a line from the WW2 German song 'Wo alle Strassen enden', or 'Where all streets come to an end'. The specific line is 'So ziehen wir verloren durch das graue Niemannsland'. 'And so, we are lost in this grey no-man's-land'. (Yes, I'm a history nut)