I hate this war. But what should I do?
I'm not stupid. If I stop fighting back, they will make me pay back everything, that I did. They will kill me.
Actually I don't even know if I'll make it tonight, the next days...
Perhaps I'll die. I'm not a real country anymore.
He did say it by himself...
If Germany isn't able to win these battles, he is not the right German country. If this Germany is too weak, he doesn't deserve to live.
Actually it's not unusual...I was never really Germanic after all...I was always a mud-blood and there's nothing in the world that would be able to change that.
Perhaps there will a new Germany after me, it's not the first time that a nation dies in this area nor will I be the last one.
I'm so fucking scared.
I don't want to die.
Italy is crying while he's treating my wounds, Japan is fighting with America, I haven't seen him in months.
The big burning right above my left ear makes a dull pain pound in my head. I don't dare to look at my leg while Italy is wrapping it with a bandage. I can't feel anymore pain there... No pain means something is worse than usual. I taste blood on my lip and try to ignore a constant prickle behind my eyes. I don't want Italy to see me cry.
I...I don't really trust him to be able to dry my tears.
There were only two people who could do that... one is dead and one is trying to kill me... and I'm trying to kill him...but I can't.
I try to find comfort in Italy's face, but there's just tears, snot and a bit of dirt.

„Italy?"
I'm asking and feeling bad about it.
But Feliciano promised, didn't he? He promised to be my friend. I said he would be there to help me, to get me out of trouble.
„Protect me this night. We don't know where England is, he might attack us and I can't fight in this condition."
I don't know if he understands the subtext... perhaps he just doesn't want to understand it.
I can't fight anymore...I'm dying...please make sure, they don't treat my corpse as bad as I was treating my dead victims...please give me a name on my stone.
He smiles.
the next moment it is difficult for me to see it clearly.
My sight becomes blurry and suddenly my body feels light and the pain is gone.

I can't believe it, when I wake up a little bird is chirping happily outside the tent and and under the omnipresent metallic scent of blood it smells a little bit like spring.
I'm still alive.
France is sitting next to my bed, a rifle in his hand and his helmet on the night stand. my hands are bound to the top of my bed, but I don't really care.
I'm still alive.
He looks as bad as I'm feeling.
But even with all these wounds and cuts on his face, I can see hope in his eyes.
Hope that makes my tears finally fall.

"Where is Italy?"