They say that history is written by the winners. In Germany's eyes, that was certainly true. Today was remembered by most of Europe as the day they drove his people out of what was now called Normandy. It was a memorial for all the soldiers who died that day. All the Allied soldiers, that is. No one really remembered that in order for them to win, there had to be someone who lost. Today was being spent toasting the lives of the 4000 men who lost their lives landing in Normandy to drive out the German forces that were there. No one apart from him cared at all about the 9000 German troops who died that day. About double. Double the Axis lives were lost compared to the Allied lives. And standing on this beach, no one apart from him remembered. He had felt the need to come. He needed to commemorate the lose of life as much as the others did. He knew that elsewhere on the beach the others would be standing together. He wondered what they would be talking about. England, France, Russia, America, Canada, Netherlands, Poland and many others. They would all be standing together, talking and reminiscing. Remembering what it had been like. He remembered too. Germany knew he couldn't join them. That no matter what had happened since then, they would not want to see him here today. He sat down on the sand, watching everything unfold below him. Seventy years later, he was still seen as an enemy on this beach.

"I thought I'd find you up here."

The voice made Germany jump slightly and he looked up at the man who now stood behind him, "Ah, England..." he looked back out across the sea, "Why are you not down with the others?"

"I spotted you up here." England sat down on the sand beside his fellow country, "As I do every year."

Germany nodded slightly, not looking at him, "Just as you come here to commemorate the battle, I also honour the young lives that were lost here. It is easy to remember the lives lost in the winning of a battle. Much harder is to remember that there is always a loser. And that they also suffered many casualties."

England nodded slightly, "Sometimes I forget that. My people are so busy thinking about the Allied lives lost they forget that they were fighting members of the Axis who were just as young. But I see you sitting here alone and that makes me remember. It makes me remember that I should remember. As I remember the people who died in battles that I lost."

Germany could think of nothing to say to this, so he said nothing. The pair of them just lapsed into silence, looking out across the people paying tribute to the fallen soldiers and beyond them, the gentle lapping of the sea.

"I should be getting back." England said eventually, his voice soft so as not to disturb the peace. "The others will be wondering where I have got to."

Germany nodded, "Danke, for coming to speak with me."

England got to his feet, "There's soup down there. If you want it."

Shaking his head, Germany looked up at him, "Nein. It is good of you to offer but I think it is best for me to stay here. Remember the events in my own way. I feel I will not be welcome with the others."

"Then I will leave you. And will see you again at the next meeting." England inclined his head respectfully to the other country before walking away, making his way back across the soft sand. Germany watched him go, seeing him stop with a small group of people and once more integrate himself amongst them.

Germany nodded to himself. War really was told from the perspective of the winners. But that didn't mean the losers were forgotten.


Author's note: I wanted to write something to do with the D-Day commemorations and after writing half a one-shot revolving around England, I decided that actually I wanted to write something from the loser's side. Hetalia does not belong to me.