Third Side of the Revolution, a hetalia - axis powers fanfic

Title: Third Side of the Revolution

Summary: Novice Hessian soldier, Ludwig, listened to the officer as he explained their next destination, Trenton.

Genre: Family + Drama + Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Mild language (nothing serious), war theme, some OOC, human name usage, first-time fanfiction writer, 18th century English

Disclaimer: I own nothing except a pin that says "Otters ate my Homework"

AN: This is my first time writing a fanfiction, please don't notice the torch and pitch fork shop down the street. Characters may be a little OOC, sorry about this. It is around 95.7% historically accurate, give or take a few percents. I did do a good amount of research as I originally wrote this for a historical fiction paper for high school (being accurate was a requirement), but adapted it for fanfiction. It is set in the American Revolution (1776-1783) and I tried to capture some of the language that was used at that time. Language back then had different grammar rules than it does now, and some words had different meanings. There was also a higher level of formality and verbosity. See the footnotes at the bottom.

This is not meant to be a romance story, but if you want to perceive it that way, go right ahead. xD

Without further ado, I give you what you came here for~

Third Side of the Revolution

Snow and sleet continued to rap against the window panes as I gazed out onto the streets of Trenton. A fire in the iron stove warmed the room to an agreeable level. All the water has caused the dirt roads to become piles of mud and snow. 'tis diverting, one measly year ago I was looking upon the streets of my homeland, Hessen-Kassel. I thought this to myself as one of the other soldiers stationed in the house grunted in their sleep. It was earlier than noon, but we were stationed here for the winter season and there is not much one could do in this weather. One year since our Prince, Landgrave Friedrich II, decided to vendue his regiments to England for quelling of the rebellious colonies (1).

I continued down this route of thought and of the voyage to the Colonies until an all too familiar voice in my native tongue silenced my thoughts. "If you continue to traverse in those deep thoughts of yours, Ludwig, your face twill remain in that position, frowning." I glanced over my shoulder to see my older brother smirking at me, abet, I could see sleep present in his deep brown eyes (often mistaken for red) which were covered slightly by his platinum-blonde hair. I ignored the insult; Gilbert was often quizzing (2) persons.

"Did I wake you?" I asked.

"No, I was just wishing that there be some beer around here, Christmas is unawesome without it."(3) Snorting at his use of the word awesome (4), I moved from my position next to the window to sit down next to Gilbert, my frame dwarfing his. Humorous that I am the younger brother.

"Gilbert, when do you speculate we can go back home?" I questioned him with longing in my ice-blue eyes. I wanted to be a soldier, just like Gilbert, however I never understood the hardships associated with the position. When I discovered that my brother (whom is a professional soldier) was leaving for war, one that he has no quarrels with, I could not stand being away from him; Gilbert was the one who raised me, our parents died when we were young, leaving us to fend for ourselves. I also wanted to prove to him that I am strong.

The mischievous glint in Gilbert's eyes disappeared as he opened his mouth to answer, but that answer never came as muskets and cannons could be heard in the distance. Instantly, everyone became alive. Uniforms of blue coats, tricone hats, breechers, turnbacks, and gaiters were dawned. Bayonets were secured to muskets and sabers were sheathed into belts around our waits. It was chaos as not one person was expecting an attack. Who would be quiz enough to mount an attack in this weather?

As I was obtaining my musket, Gilbert threw my tornister (knapsack) over my head onto my shoulders. Handsome thing to do or I t'would have forgotten it. "Hmm, not sure if this Christmas surprise is obliging," Gilbert said, in an inappropriate tone for the situation, fingering a small pin of a yellow chick on his coat which he named 'Gilbird.'

I was tense; I have never been in combat before. Noticing my discomfort, Gilbert ruffled my blonde hair in a soothing manner. "Rusticate (5), Ludwig. I twill not let anything come upon you."

All the other soldiers were done applying their uniforms and were now making their way outside, seeking orders. I tapped one of the little blond curls on the side of Gilbert's head (6) and he started our familiar mantra "When in Hessen-Kassel—"

"—do as the Beilschmidt brothers do," I finished. Body relaxed and Gilbert by my side, I was ready for anything to come, agreeable or not.

Stepping outside was similar to a long drought on the farm, unrequested anarchy. Artillery was being fired on our flanks and soldiers were retreating. Scores of men were being forced out of town, making it hard to form up. The cold seeped directly through our linens, soaking them and nipping at our skin.

Gilbert grabbed my sleeve and ran us into the crowd. We made our way southeast of Trenton into what appeared to be an apple orchard. Men all around us were speaking about how the Patriot Army was attacking Trenton. "Ludwig," Gilbert spoke up beside me forcing me to ignore Rall and von Lossberg's orders, "be awares, all this sleet will cause the flint and gunpowder on your person to be hard to fire." I nodded at his sentiments. Outcries sounded all around as Rall, on horseback, lead the counterattack to Trenton. However, a few seconds into the attack he was hit by a bullet and fell to the ground, causing cries to break out everywhere, but the attack continued none-the-less.

Back in Trenton was nothing but puzzlement. The Patriot soldiers, who dawned blue uniforms not that discommon to ours, were mounted on top of the houses and were firing down upon us, somehow managing to light their gunpowder in the wet conditions. Cannon fire, on the Patriot side broke up any formations. Gilbert, taking the lead of the two of us, elected in using his bayonet instead of attempting to strike the flint in this foul weather. I followed suit.

No matter what, I could not kill any of the enemies. Whenever I stared at their faces, I thought Do they not have a family as well? Who am I to take him away from them?

I remained by Gilbert's side through this whole ordeal. In no time at all, we were completely overthrown. Retreat calls to cross the Assumpink Creek were made. "Getting to that creek is a must," Gilbert affirmed. A large force hit me in the back of the head and the last thing I recall seeing and hearing is Gilbert cursing loudly.

…

Coming to my senses, my head ached as if I was on a first-rate hangover. Shifting and testing my muscles, I found them to be sore from being in one position for a time. Sitting up was a pain and bells chimed in my head, but I managed to do so. After opening my eyes, I noticed I was in a house. A fire in the stove provided heat and light, for t'was dark outside. There were other people in the room, none of whom were Gilbert.

Nervousness began to seep into my form. A hand rested 'tis self on my shoulder, "How goes your health, Hessian?" someone asked in English. I looked up to the speaker who had a distinct colonial accent. Answering in broken English, "'Tis a little sore, sir… where are we?"

Due to the suprisingest look on his face, I speculated he did not expect me to be able to speak his language. "You speak English?" he replied after taking time to decipher my thick accent. I blinked at him a couple times, not seeing the reason in asking that particular question, but nodded none-the-less. I took this point to further inspect my surroundings. Most of the other soldiers were from my regiment, non-Patriot. It also appeared that many of them appeared to be of ill health with physical wounds… "—ian. Hessian, sir." The hand re-positioned 'tis self on my shoulder made me realize that this 'hessian' was me, why remains unknown (7). I looked at the colonist once again. "To oblige your inquiry, you have been copped (8) by the Continental Army under the command of General George Washington."

My eyes widened, "Excuse me? Where be—"

"Now that you are decent, come with me, Hessian." The colonist interrupted my speech. He grabbed the nook of my arm and hoisted me to my feet. I now realized that I was only clothed in my breechers and linen shirt. All of my arms (weapons) were missing, and so was my tornister. We exited the house, which was more of a shack, into what must have been the main camp of the colonist army. It was still cold, but no longer sleeting. Snow was over a leg deep in several places. "For simple questions, today is the twenty-eighth. You have been out-cold for nearly two a day. We are in Newtown, Pennsylvania." That answered a few, but I still had more… where is Gilbert? I wanted to ask, but decided that this Patriot would probably not know whom I was speaking about.

We paced through the camp; soldiers were frittering about, looking through supplies and filling up horse-drawn carts. Each soldier had a musket attached to their backs. We entered a house that was only but a few down from the one we were in before. Within, there were more of my fellow-men. Many of these soldiers were of ill health as well, but these were due of the cold instead of a wound and the room was nearly filled to capacity. Coughing filled the air and the pungent stench of throw up filled my nose, causing it to wrinkle. "Remain in these quarters, Hessian," was the simple order I was given before my escort darted backed out of the house.

There were three other Patriot soldiers in the one-room house. A set of stairs let to the above stairs on the left. As the below stairs smelt worse than fermented cow fertilizer, I chose to make my way to the stairs, one of the colonists giving me the evil-eye the entire time. The above stairs was not much different, but less crowded. Looking around, I saw Gilbert. Providence (9), he was in good health… and causing mischief. Gilbert was sitting next to one of the Patriot soldiers, apparently trying to converse with him. However, Gilbert never learnt how to speak English, saying that reading those books was not awesome enough for him. The soldier looked annoyed, but for good reason.

Approaching Gilbert from behind, whom I now noticed was quivering slightly, continued to insult the soldier in a hoarse voice, calling his mother an antique virgin (10) and continuing about how he plans on seeking freedom for him and every other soldier imprisoned with his awesomeness. The Patriot soldier looked up at me and questioned "Is there something you need, Hessian? … My apologies, you speak no English." I am quite suprisingest that we are being treated this handsomely for war prisoners.

Gilbert looked back at me and gave a huge smile, though not at big as he usually does. I was horror-struck at how he looked: deathly pale skin with dark circles around his eyes. Now the hoarse voice seemed plausible. "Ludwig..." was all he could manage before falling into a fit of coughs.

Immediately, I was by his side rapping his back to ease the motions. "Do not over execute yourself, Gilbert. I 'tisn't going anywheres." I assured him, switching to our native tongue.

After the fit died down, he elected to lye down and replied "You best better not be, I gave quite the fit when you were hit upon the noggin." I asked him what occurred while I was out and he replied that all our fellow-men were loaded into scows (11) and ferried across the Delaware River, then marched here. "The officers were taken to another location, but I have heard talk that we will be marched to Lancaster soon and be put to work on the farms there. (12) They really have not much else to do with us." He explained to me with a few breaks to empty his lungs and nose.

"Your health 'tis not faring well, Gilbert," was all I could manage to say. All he did was shrug to my comment.

"West," Gilbert started, using his nickname for me which usually means something bad is about to come. "I am not going to be taken to a farm how you will." Serious was etched upon Gilbert's face. It always astounds me how he can go from one opposite to the other.

"What requires you to say that? Just some time ago you were bothering him," I reasoned, motioning to the Patriot soldier examining the nearby walls.

"My health, West. I can barely stand up, let alone march several leagues. I was just releasing my anger on the situation at that Patriot." His hard eyes stared up into my unbelieving ones. "I am going to die soon." Even in the final moments, Gilbert and I are complete opposites. He is strong mentally, I am strong physically. He is calm, I am on the verge of tears (which I refuse to let fall). He is confident, I am scared.

"No. No, no you can not leave me Gilbert!" What would I do if he was gone? I hugged him close to my body, refusing to let him leave. He had a fever and was still quivering slightly, the only family member I have left.

"Remember your question back in Trenton, kesesese, unrequested almost-rhyming, oh, when we can return home?" I nodded. "It does not matter where you are, home is…" He was interrupted by a Patriot soldier pulling me along with all other able-bodied soldiers away. No amount of struggling made the Patriot soldiers yield. The last view I had of Gilbert was of him giving me a large, genuine smile, eyes finally serene as they just should be.

. . .

Walking into the local ordinary (13), I produced a few coins to purchase some whisky. "Ludwig, man, can I have some of that?" Alfred's loud, young voice questioned me, his sky-blue eyes large and innocent.

"Perhaps when you gain some years, Alfred," was the reply I always gave him along with the pout he always gives back. "It is imperative to get this back to your father so I can fix his wound." We both exited the building and made our way down the dirt road that has become all too familiar. The time after Gilbert's death was blurry. I scarcely remember the marches from our holdings to Lancaster. No wondrous we were brought here as there was already a large portion of people that came from Hessen-Kassel and the surrounding principalities.

A cart turned the corner and Alfred did not notice it in the least. I grabbed him by the back of his woolen shirt and pulled him back. "Be awares, Alfred." I scolded the young soon to be Free Patriot.

"My apologies Ludwig sir… but it t'was not my fault. That cart came out of nowhere." The boy replied, cheerfulness invoking every aspect of his being.

"Still the same as ever, even though we have known each other for three a year." It is topping how fast three years go by and how much has changed. After about a year of working on the Jones' farm, I realized what Gilbert was going to say. It does not matter where you are, home is wherever you want it to be.

I did not realize I said this aloud in my native tongue until I was replied to in the same language. "Kesesese, it seems as though my little brother has finally gained some years."

… I feel so cliché. Here are those footnotes I promised:

(1) England paid the princes of the German principalities for soldiers to help fight in the American Revolution. Mercenaries are not as good of a definition as paid allies. The soldiers did receive some pay for their work.

(2) Quizzing - teasing/bothering

(3) Fun fact, the soldiers at Trenton were not drunk, just unprepared and had poor leadership

(4) The word 'awesome' did not gain its current meaning of great until the 1980s. Back in the 1700s, it meant inspiring reverential awe

(5) Rusticate – relax

(6) Many Hessian soldiers had these hair curls on the sides of their heads, Google pictures (They look nothing like Italy and Romano's hair curls)

(7) Hessian was a common term given to all the German soldiers because most of the soldiers came from the principalities of Hessen-Kassel or Hessen-Hanau

(8) Copped - captured/ caught

(9) Providence- similar to "My God"

(10) Antique virgin – Old Maid

(11) scows – flat-bottomed boats used to ferry supplies and people across the Delaware river

(12) Many of the Hessian war prisoners were sent to areas in Pennsylvania such as Lancaster and Reading to work on farms there. There is a large amount of German-American populations there now because many of the soldiers decided to stay and start a new life instead of returning to Europe.

(13) Local ordinary – local tavern