I don't own Hetalia okay? Now some of these chapters will be told from people who haven't been before, but that's to show how the story is progressing. But anyway, enough of this A/N, on with the fic!
June 20th 1917
(from the diary of Matthew Williams)
So here I am, a few days from Canada. On a boat heading towards the Saint Laurence River, to Montreal then from there Alfred is taking me back to New York. That is if that letter Lt. sent got to them. He assured me it had and he had made special precautions that it would get to them so I wouldn't be left at the port half crippled and alone. Apparently my captain has been told of my injuries and while he did it in a very polite way, wired back saying I needn't worry about resuming to duty with the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, I served my duty to them. I'm discarded from them about as quickly as I was in the army. I even made freaking Sargent! I mean I am glad I am not going to find what happens to the other veterans who make it out alive but have no one to help them, but god it's going to feel so freaking bad. I'll be living with Al and his wife and kid. I mean I hadn't seen little Nikolai in person since he was born and I am sure he likes his Uncle Ivan better than he would his Uncle Mattie. And I have this distinct impression that Natalya does not like me that much. I don't care if Ivan said she only likes a few people, it's still unnerving being around her. She scares me a little. Love must really blind a person if Al isn't afraid.
I know when I was in the hospital Lt. Col. Kirkland said to keep a journal of my thoughts so they aren't prowling in my mind, but what does he know? He's been either in procurement making deals with American supply companies or in some cushy office job in London. Not like he's been in the trenches. At least that French officer that he seems to have a love/hate relationship with sees the destruction done to his home first hand. I swear he and Major Bonnefoy argue like an old married couple. But no, I saw some of my fellow soldiers die. Many of them fell beside me, and I tried to lead them while getting aid to those who were hurt. The bombs going off, and me yelling them to make it to the trenches, kick those kraut's asses and make it back. It wasn't easy. I pulled a white haired German off one of my men in my command and decked him in the face, only for him to pull a Luger on me, and I had to shoot him back. That haunts me. I never had to do that before. Going hunting is nothing like this. I think the bangs of the ship's boilers are artillery shells. It's hard getting used to the fact that what they say is true. I'm safe now. I'm alive. I should be happy. Well I'm not. Very much not.
So how was that? Good? Bad? Short? Long? (at least for journal entries?) Let me know in a review. The story is progressing more so you'll see entries and letters from people other than the main 3, but mainly Katyusha and Matthew. So anyway, remember to read (well you just did) and to review. Ciao for now,
otherrealmwriter
aka
Realm.