Hey, so this is a little something new I'm working on. Its a World War ll fic so if you don't like that, then I would suggest not reading it. I'm going to say now that I have a lot going on in school and I'll be leaving at the end of July. I'll be updating as often as possible.
I'll say this once. I do not own Hetalia and if I did then Prucan would be canon.
Gilbert had woken up early and lay silent in his bed. He could hear the sound of someone quietly walking around their small house: his dad. He would be leaving for work soon only to return exhausted that night and retreat to his room to sleep. He looked to his left and saw his brother; Ludwig was still fast asleep under his covers. Gilbert heard the front door open and close, then the house was silent again. He turned on his side and tried to return to his dreams for a few more hours before the light would make it impossible. Gilbert wanted to dream just a bit longer before he would spend his time awake fearing the imminent capture by the Nazis. Just as he was about to fall asleep again, the door was kicked open and slammed against the wall. Gilbert froze in his bed as realization dawned on him. They were here. They were here and he was going to be taken away. The blankets were ripped away from him, and his body was thrown to the ground.
Gilbert struggled against the firm grip of the Nazi soldier who had burst into their home. It was early dawn now, and the sun was just beginning to bathe the land in a cool light. The sky was painted light red while a frigid cold bit at Gilbert's lungs with each quick inhale. His bare feet froze in the freshly lain snow that he was dragged out escaped the hold for a short second only to fall into the powdery snow. Gilbert's brother dropped to his knees beside him and helped him up.
"Brüder, run!" Ludwig commanded.
Gilbert stared at him, shivering in his wet pajamas. He was jerked around and pushed forward. "Go!"
He nodded and took off running on numb feet. He thought his brother would follow him, but it didn't take long before a gunshot cut through the still morning, stopping Gilbert in his tracks and raising a sob in his throat. Unshed tears flooded his eyes, blurring his vision while the Nazi soldiers seized his arms and dragged him back to the awaiting truck. A cold knife cut through his heart when he saw his brother motionless in the white snow. The snow around him, however, slowly became stained scarlet.
"Nein..." he breathed as he was roughly thrown into the back of a truck.
Gilbert watched silently as his home and brother became obscured by his tears until everything vanished over the horizon.
Gilbert didn't move from his spot. The truck bounced over the uneven, dirt road and occasionally sent him to his side or into another prisoner. He mutely pushed himself back up and resumed his position.
Gilbert did his best to block out the cacophony of cries and mutterings from the other passengers. He didn't want to think about all of them or about how many people were packed into the vehicle; he clamped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. He stayed like this for the remainder of the ride. A pang of hunger gnawed at his stomach and dried his mouth.
He felt a hand clamp down on his wrist and he was jerked from the truck and thrown into the snow. A sharp order was barked and Gilbert jumped to his feet as the other prisoners scrambled from the truck and quickly formed a line. The soldiers herded them to a set of railroad tracks, where car after car was rigged up behind a train engine. He soon learned there had been multiple trucks ahead of them carrying more passengers, who were quickly being packed into the train cars.
He glanced around himself and saw parents and children sobbing as they were torn apart. Men in separate train cars than the women and children. Gilbert was pointed to one car, and he watched as the young girl behind him was directed to another.
He slowly climbed in and winced when he saw how many had already been packed in. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that more people were being sent in behind him. Soon there would be no room for anyone to stand. A scream echoed in his ears, followed by pleas in a language he didn't understand. Gilbert heard someone shout a command. A gunshot tore through the clamor and effectively silenced everyone around him. The screaming had ended. Gilbert stood rooted in his place. He didn't know how but he ended up at the back of the car, pressed against the wall.
The train lurched forward, and he watched through a crack as the station grew smaller in the distance.
It was dark outside now. Gilbert had no way of knowing what time it was so he didn't know how long he had been on the truck. It felt like forever, and by how dark it was outside, he figured it was late. His body felt sore and exhausted but he didn't think he would be able to sleep. Gilbert watched with wet eyes as he was taken farther and farther away from his home. He didn't recognize the area around him, and couldn't remember the last time he had been that far away from home without his family. The train made periodic stops, and guards opened up the train car questioning if anyone was sick or dead or if they wanted to move to another car. The car grew slightly roomier each time they stopped. He didn't know where those people were taken or what happened to them, but something told him not to raise his hand when they asked.
The train would remain stopped for hours at a time, and with each stop Gilbert grew hungrier and thirstier. Each time they stopped he hoped they would get water or food; eventually bread was thrown into the car and everyone jumped to get a piece. Gilbert was unable to get any.
As the time passed he developed a headache that worsened during the trip. It smelled horrible because people were forced to relieve themselves where they stood.
Every few stops, the car was hosed out. It was assumed that that would be the only water they would be receiving as well as the closest thing to being washed they get.
Gilbert shivered in his corner from the cold. It felt as though he would never be warm again. His clothes had been soaked through from the snow and hosing. Next to his shivering and headache, he was beginning to feel as though he would throw up - if there was anything in his stomach to throw up. After several more stops and no more food or water, the train stopped. Someone began shouting, and everyone crowded around the area trying to see. There were shouts of seeing smoke and fire. Several minutes passed and the doors were opened.
"Out!" a soldier barked at them.
Gilbert was one of the last to climb down to the ground. His bare feet touched the wet grass and he stepped slowly forward following the masses of people. The snow was gone, having long passed during the journey. The grass, frozen, crunched under his feet and sent a shiver through his body.
He walked forward on unsteady feet, weak from a combination of exhaustion, dehydration, and hunger. He stopped and looked around himself. There had to be hundreds of people clambering off the train one by one into the large mob of people. They were filed in through a wrought iron fence with barbed wire looping gracefully over the top as if it were pleading for a poor soul to attempt to jump over. This grace encompassed the whole camp.
Gilbert tipped his head back and watched as he walked under the arching gate that beckoned the prisoners forward to their death. A fire beckoned in the distance and an unfamiliar stench permeated the air.
One by one, each prisoner's physical appearance was assessed for and sent to either the left or the right. What lay beyond that point was unknown to Gilbert, but it raised panic in his chest and caused him to shiver.
He followed the directions of the Nazi soldiers as they directed all the prisoners to strip their clothes off. There was only men in his group now. No women or children around. He didn't like standing in the cold naked but he at least was thankful it was only men around him. Goose bumps raised in his skin and he rubbed his arms.
Gilbert glanced over at the young man next to him. He was desperately trying to warm his body. The man looked up at Gilbert with bright green eyes.
"It's cold out here...why do you think they made us get naked?" he asked Gilbert.
"You're hearing the same commands as I am. I don't know anything more than what they tell all of us," Gilbert replied. It was the first thing he had said since he saw his brother's body in the snow. His voice sounded weird to him, raw and quiet. It scratched his dry throat and made him more aware of his strong thirst.
"Ah...I guess you're right," he said with his green eyes sparkling. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the ground. "Do you know where we are?" he asked hopefully.
"Um..." he thought for a moment, mentally adding up the various stops the train had taken. "I'm not exactly sure...I think we traveled for about two days but..."
"You don't know?" he asked softly. A light frown tugged the edges of his mouth. Gilbert shook his head sadly.
"I wish I did..." Gilbert said softly. "I'm Gilbert."
"Antonio," he responded. He looked forward when someone began speaking again. "What are they saying? I don't understand German," Antonio confessed.
Gilbert listened and after a moment began translating. "They want us to leave out clothes here a-and we'll have a shower. After that-"
"A shower?" Antonio interrupted. He seemed to get happier at the knowledge that they would receive a shower.
"Ja," he nodded and continued. "After that we'll leave the showers and get more instruction." Gilbert went quiet. It bothered him that they wouldn't tell them everything at once. He didn't want to blindly travel further into the camp. Gilbert at least wanted to know what lay ahead of them.
He already knew what lay at the end of the path. Death. But he wanted to know what would lead up to that, but the Nazis insisted upon holding the unknown over their heads and make them jump through hoops to reach it.
Antonio watched him for a moment. "Are you okay, Gilbert?"
Gilbert blinked. "Ja. I'm fine," he nodded. "We should get to that shower now..."
Gilbert followed as the prisoners slowly trickled into the showers and out the other end. They were stopped on the way out and a soldier shaved their heads. He stopped just before the Nazi. Gilbert took a moment to calm his nerves and stepped up to the soldier. He closed his eyes, feeling a part of him break. A tear dropped down his cheek and to the ground where it intermingled with the white locks of his hair. Gilbert felt as though he was being stripped of his identity. They took their clothes, shaved their heads, and when he moved forward a stripped uniform was shoved into his hands. Antonio followed him closely.
Together they redressed.
Together they lost their identity.
Together they became one number among thousands of others.
So, that's the first chapter then. Let me know what you think, whether you hate the story, you hate me, or you loved the story or me. I love knowing what my readers think of my writing.