Meet me on the battlefield

When it all started part 1

Nico's POV

When the war started, I was about 17. Not yet old enough to join the military but oh so close. It was September 1, 1939.

I remember that horrible day as if it was yesterday, the bomb siren went off and my father pushed me and my mother under the table. We screamed in almost perfect unison with the neighbors and people around us in the city.

The bomb hit, exploded, and killed.

World War 2 had started.

And I was certain, that I not only needed to help, but I needed to fight. And save my family and friends from a horrible death.

All I could hear, was the ringing in my ears, the screams of my parents, the building falling and tearing apart.

I felt my own cold tears streaming down my face, and the flames engulfing the room around us.

The bomb hit right next to us.

My mother laid motionless next to the coffee table, my father's dull eyes stared back at me.

Me? I had been thrown to the wall and was now laying on the floor, dizzy, in pain, and wanting nothing more than for my parents to live. Glad that I had no siblings.

But upon looking with the little strength I had left, I saw my father, with wood sticking straight through his stomach. My mother, blood pouring, gushing, from her head.

I then, felt that tremendous pain. Flowing through my body, causing every movement to be filled with it, I could taste my own blood. That horrible taste, that I had always hated.

Although for some reason, I was clinging onto hope. Somehow I was hopeful, that somehow, someway, we would survive.