Heroes ((WW2 Hetalia))

Heroes

to help read through the story, parts of the story between **** are flashbacks and memories x

[Reader's Pov]

My name Is [Y/N] [L/N] I have returned to my home in Frenchtown from the world war 2. Now I am a female, but I lied about my age and gender to recruit into the war, I have managed to escape the horrors of war, I have a silver star (an special award from the ww2) for saving my troops from a grenade, now I have terrible burn marks on my face and scars, no eyebrows and short hair, I also wear a long white scarf that I bought home from fighting in Russia, And a Red Sox cap.I am back to get my revenge on a man who everyone calls "A Hero"

I walk down the streets of Frenchtown, to find a place to stay, I can't return to my uncle knowing that what I did. I was not meant to join the war, My two brothers Arthur and Matthew joined the war, and I was left living alone with my Uncle, which was a bit of a bore.
****
I can always remember before the war all the boys at my school kept talking about fighting the Japs and the Germans in the navy or something, until our teacher (and Nun) sister Matilde came over and told them to be quiet.
At this time in the class I was new, I did not have many friends, but then again the school itself was not so big.There was one boy who I liked very much. . .His name was Francis Bonnefoy, sometimes I would try and speak to him, which often came out as a pathetic sounding squeak.
****
As I look around I find a place, Then I found one, a flat owned by a women named Michelle. "Veteran?" she asked, as I nodded. I pulled my scarf closer to my face. I did not want to be recognised as little (Y/N) (L/N). "Poor boy" she said giving me a key. Yes. everyone thinks I'm a boy in my disguise. I feel like a spy on a secret mission, I did have a mission and that was to kill Ludwig Beilschmidt. I reminded myself that as I Held my Duffel bag close, which had my gun in it.

****
I can never recall the moment I fall asleep, that blurred line between wakefulness and oblivion, whilst waiting, I remember all the names in my head. Of all the names and nicknames of the men in my platoon. Braginski and Laurinaitis and  Lukasiewicz too. and yes. . . Carriedo and their first names. Ivan and Toris and Feliks and Antonio. then more names. Wang yao. and Vash Zwingli, Mathias Kohler.

I never wanted to remember those names. It brought back mad memories. I can remember the sounds of gunshots. and curses and grunts and hisses. I was no longer in my bed, But in a town, I can hear Antonio Carriedo's ragged breathing and Ivan Braginski whistling between his teeth, and Mathias Kohler muttering "Jesus" Meaning I'm scared, we all were. All clutching our guns hands clenched.

This was nothing like the movies at the Plymouth. We were probably taking the final steps of our lives in this village. which name we did not even know. Feliks Lukasiewicz asked to no-one in particular "What the hell are we doing here anyway?" and clutched his stomach because he has had a stomach ache for the past 3 days.

Then suddenly the sounds of Gunshots and artillery shells exploding filled the eerie silence. We scramble around and hit the dirt trying to become part of the buildings but not safe anywhere. Then I find myself in a narrow alley way, and suddenly two German solders appear in white uniforms like grim ghosts, holding up their rifles, but my automatic was too quick and the head of one of the solders explodes like a ripe tomato and the other one yells "Mama!" as my gunfire cuts him in half, both halves fall to the ground.

****

I explode into wakefulness, No longer cold, the town gone. back into Michelle's accommodation. The seat streaming down both sides of my face, my heart beating quickly. The sweat turns ice cold in an instant, I encountered the German solders alright, but my burst of gunfire killed both, but no head exploding, no-one got cut in half, Although one of them did call out Mama. When I looked down at them, I see their faces - I saw how young they were. Boys with apple cheeks, to young to shave, not much younger than me.

"Come on Francis!" Yells Ivan Braginski and I join him in a scramble out of the alley and into the woods. Yes, When I joined the army I changed my name to Francis and the second name, Cassavant, Like the boy I knew and loved although I changed the surname, when I join the rest of my platoon, I discover that Toris Laurinaitis and Feliks Lukasiewicz have died, Vash Zwingli badly wounded. His chest ripped apart by shrapnel, Carried of somewhere over the sidelines and never seen again.
The next day the grenade blows my face away.
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