Russia, or as we in the motherland say, the USSR will be appearing probably in two to three more chapters. As you can see, the 50's are giving way, and shits gonna go down son!

This was a quick update seeing as I wont be able to update 'till next week, maybe, so here ya go. Finals for me are in 2 weeks, so I wanna try and add one more chapter after this in order to tie all you lovelies over until spring break.

Thank you!

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Walk the Line

Johnny Cash

1956

"MEDIC!" Anderson yelled beside him, looking down at his feet while waiting to see if his answer was called.

There they laid in their foxhole, freezing their balls off as their stomachs ate at themselves. America's last true meal had been about a month ago, and he was getting sick and tired of the goop that was served everyday, cooked inside their helmets. His head smelled of shit. He couldn't really feel his feet, his hands, his ears, and his nose, not even when he touched them. His eyes burned and he was tired of squinting towards the eastern front for a sight of any German soldier to shoot.

"What is it Anderson?" the medic picked up the tarp covering them and looked inside.

"Can't feel my legs sir, can't even get them up."

"Look, I told you to rub them, and to walk around from time to ti –"

"Walk around! That's rich Doc, just prance the hell around, and if I happen to meet so damn Nazi, ask him to join me for a walk, right?"

"Well, dammit Anderson, what the hell do you think I just did, coming over here? I walked! It's just as cold for them as it is for us, it's a damn stand off right now, so just get up and walk around!"

"I just told you I can't!"

"Your choice, Anderson. How 'bout you Sarge? How are ya holding up there?"

"Honestly Doc, can't feel my legs either, can't even feel my stomach anymore." America gave him a small grin as he patted his stomach, "But I think thats due less to the cold than it is to the mud we've been eating the past few days."

"Heh, I think you're right there, Sarge, I think you're right. All I can say is do what I told Anderson here."

"Right, just do what we've been doing this whole time in Europe, walk everywhere."

"You know Sarge, that's the irony here. Walk around Europe, get injured, walk around Europe, get cured. I just don't get these intellectual types!" Anderson picked up the tarp laying around, planning to cover himself and Jones with it, seeing as it was getting darker and darker.

"Give the Doc here a break. He ain't got supplies either. 'Sides, how many times has he saved your ass from trouble?"

"Psht, never liked Doc much." Anderson grinned at Doc, remembering the time he got shot in the ass down in Brecourt. Doc had been right there telling him, "Man, you're one lucky son of a bitch" after having survived two grenades only to come out with a bullet in his right butt-cheek.

"Do any of you have scissors? I lost mine." Doc said.

"Sorry, lost mine long ago. Go ask Cowboy, think he's got some."

"Thanks Sarge, do what I say Anderson!" Doc walked away.

"Even if I could lift my legs up, they'd just get stuck in all this damn snow..."

"Shut up Anderson, I need to sleep."

"Damn Sarge."

"Sargent Jones to you. Take first watch."

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America woke up when Anderson nudged him awake for his turn at watch. Yawning, he turned around and faced the darkness in front of him while Anderson settled back down into the foxhole to sleep in the slightly warmer tarp. He knocked out rather quickly. America grinned his way a bit when he heard him snoring, and wondered whether the Germans would shoot them down because of it.

The sky would be full of stars, he supposed, if it weren't for the snow lightly falling around everywhere, the tarp cover would have to be shaken soon in order to keep it from collapsing into their hole. He slightly shifted from one knee to another, well, he thought they were shifting but couldn't really look down to make sure. This he did until day break.

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"GET THE HELL OUT OF YOUR HOLES!"

"TAKE COVER!"

With a spurt both Anderson and America snapped out and started shooting towards the east, bombs dropping down every which way around them, how had they both fallen asleep and stayed asleep through this?

They didn't know which way they were running to other than to cover themselves up and shoot. America found Cowboy and Schmidt, "You two! Take cover, fucking move move!" he said as he approached them both, Schmidt more or less crouched and unmoving in his hole.

"Get fucking moving!" He grabbed Schmidt out of there as Anderson and Cowboy shot towards the east at the Germans. Just as he did, a bomb landed on the site, and threw them both a couple of feet away.

The ringing in America's ears covered all other sound, and he saw Doc run towards him, lips moving. He pushed Doc away and pointed at Schmidt, who was still unmoving on the ground. Then he got up and started shooting east as well.

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America woke up to his secretary gently shaking his shoulder, "Sir, sir, we have just gotten word that the boycott has ended, sir." He looked up at her dark eyes and and stood from his chair, "I'm sorry Emelie, didn't sleep too well last night. What's this about the boycott?"

"Remember sir, in Montgomery? It's ended, the court ruled it illegal to segregate, just announced."

"Oh, right, right. Well, that's good news. Hope Alabama doesn't throw too much of a fit over this one."

"Sir, you need anything?"

America looked at the stacks of paper piling up on his desk, "Yes, please, some coffee. And the radio on."

"Of course sir." She turned and reached for the large radio on the right wall, tuning into the most popular station, a country station.

"Thank you Emelie." She nodded and walked out.

America let the the rough sounds of Cash fill his nerves, relishing in that particularly soothing apathetic sad quality of voice that only he could ever achieve. The simple tune of the guitar was probably something he could learn to play, and he wondered whether Russia still played his after all these years.

"It wasn't easy to be true, was it Russia? In our way to Berlin, the line we walked was too tough for both you and I, right?" America thought to himself as Johnny Cash filled his heart with love and longing.

"What the fuck am I thinking of? I never made it to Berlin. Stupid red took that glory from me too."

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Thank you to Martial-Artist-Mariko, Verin Mystal, and NekoDoodle! You caring and reviewing for this story makes me want to make it that much more awesome for you all!

15thburningfiddle: I've played CoD World at War and the Modern Warfare series only on the 360. And Sincerely, I kinda get off on it, and I think America would too. Games based entirely off American military strength and awesomeness. I play them and think "who can beat America? Seriously?" Makes me sound weird, but they make you real patriotic. I remember telling my boyfriend as we were playing it together, "Oh no, the Russians are going to win, they're surrounding us." and he says "Hell no! I ain't learning to speak no Russian, Do svidanya bitches!" and we proceed to shoot our way out of the gulag. Yeah. Hahaha Tekken, you're right, Steve-Fox, oh! How right you are!

IMPORTANTE! READ! Пожалуйста Читайте! (I think)

America's flashback is concerning the battle of the Bulge, before Patton's 3rd army was able to back them up and bring in much needed supplies. It was one of the bloodiest and gruesome battles in WWII history and decisive part of the invasion of Germany. America would be hanging out with the 101st Airborne Division (still active) that went from the Normandy Invasion all the way to the bitter end (but yes, no Berlin.) The HBO series Band of Brothers is about E Company ("Easy" Company) within the 101st Airborne that I envisioned America fighting with.

Please review? I love you all so!