AN: Warning for historical inaccuracy, this story takes place during the liberation of the Netherlands during WW2, In real history Canada was the only one there. Human names used.  Enjoy! WAIT ANOTHER WARNING FOR SAD AND GRAPHIC VIOLENCE!!! Okay, now enjoy.

This is told through Englands POV

I cocked my gun and took a deep breath, readying myself for the command to fire, charge, whatever. I looked over to Matthew, he was struggling to breath and sweating in fear. Francis reached across and patted him on the shoulder in a vain attempt to comfort him. No one could prepare us for what was to come.

The death, pain, suffering. He'd be fine after we won, the Nazis wouldn't run this country much longer. All we had to do was push them back into Germany as far as we could and force them to retreat, surrender. Then we win. Just 2 kilometers of land, two kilometers of enemies. That was it. I knew we could do it.

I saw Alfred raise his right hand, slowly, sad yet proud. There was an odd sort of fire in his eyes, fierce, ready to die but ready to fight to live. He brought his hand down in one swift motion, pointing at the other side. We raised our guns and opened fire.

The silence that had surrounded us broke, the cracking and pop of the guns cutting through the air, cutting into my soul. Matthew tensed and closed his eyes as he shot. Francis squinted behind his Winchester he loved so much aiming with perfection before sharp shooting.

I did the same, focusing in on the Captain and pulling the trigger. The bullet went into his forehead, spraying blood and brain matter out of the wound at the same time Carter's bullet pierced his chest. Blood poured from his mouth as he collapsed to the ground, puddle of red gathering in the snow around him. I saw Francis high five himself out of the corner of my eye and chuckled. Matthew did as well, though much quieter.

I placed a hand on his gun to stabilize him from our point on the rocks about 300 meters from the front. "Calm down Matthew. It's okay. Aim, breathe, focus, shoot. Okay? You can do it." He took a deep breath and nodded, raising his gun again and aiming at someone random and focusing before shooting. His eyes snapped shut but the bullet hit its intended target, causing a geyser of red to shoot out of the mans head.

"Good." I praised him and took my mark once more.

The Germans fell back three hours later, Alfred waved us to pursue them. Francis, Matthew and I climbed down from our perch and followed the rest of the group, scoping for good spots as we went, as we didn't know where we'd be stopping. Alfred stopped us about 200 meters later. "We should be getting reinforcements in about 20 minutes. For now let's move on ahead for another 800 meters or so, push them back as far as we can. Let's move men!'

They all gave a quiet cheer and began to move forwards. Francis nodded at Matthew and I. We pushed on for another 500 meters or so until we came across the German line again. There were about twice as many now. Matthew, Francis and I climbed onto a small ridge about 300 feet from the front.

Matthew tapped on the ground with his foot, it made a slight clicking noise. He looked to me, eyes wide as he whispered. "It's a trap." He said. He whipped around, facing the front line, I could see more of the opposing army surrounding them, heading out of the bushes. "It's a trap!" Francis yelled, causing Alfred to raise his gun and spin in a circle, but it was too late.

Suddenly the ground fell from beneath me with a loud clang that rang through the forest. I reached out, grasping for something, anything to stop my fall. My palm came in contact with the rough bark of a tree, scraping my skin. I wrapped my fingers around the first branch I found and hoisted my body up onto the thin wood.

I heard several loud cracks beneath me, the metal and wood of what had been the platform we had stood on laid flat on the ground with Matthew and Francis sitting painfully on top of the mess of parts. German men clad in green camouflage surrounded them, guns at the ready.

Matthew cradled a bloodied arm to his chest, the skin peeled away from a vain attempt to grab on to the tree I sat in. I heard a loud snap and a gasp of pain. Both sounds had come from Alfred, who lay a few feet away. There were two Germans standing on him, one had stepped rather harshly on his right arm, causing the bone to snap in two. Matthew cringed with disgust.

One of them aimed their gun at the Colonels face. He held up his hands as a sign of surrender. "Don't kill that one. Shoot him after we've killed all of his friends." Said the captain of their squad, Ludwig.

A man came over and pointed his gun at Francis and another at Matthew. Ludwig held up a hand and waited to give the signal. "Tell your soldiers to get the hell out of my country." He growled at Alfred before dropping his hand. I pressed myself up against the tree as far as I could and held my breath as I watched the first German soldier pull the trigger, the rest following.

There were only three left alive, Francis, Alfred and Matthew. Matt reached out and clutched onto Francis' uniform sleeve, hand trembling and the first of his tears beginning to slide down his cheeks slowly. Francis pulled the younger into his chest as if he were going to protect him. He lifted his head and we made eye contact. 'Goodbye.' His lips formed that single word. I shook my head and let a few tears fall for my best friend. A shot rang through the forest and I had to resist crying out. Francis' arms slid limply from around Matthew.

"No!" Matthew called as he caught him before he hit the ground. He lowered him comfortably to lay there before sitting up to face the German troops, the reality of what he'd done finally catching up with him as the soldier pointing their gun at him. Matthews eyes filled with fear.

 "Please don't kill me!" He begged, tears falling from his face and onto the snow around us. "And why shouldn't I? Hmm?" Ludwig demanded.

"Nothing to say?" Matthew gulped shook his head desperately trying to find the words that would save him. "Kill him." The Captain commanded as he walked away. The soldier smiled a wide sadistic smile. "Gladly."

He stood and swung his gun around, catching it softly in his hands and aiming it at Matthew's head. Matt lifted his head to look at me just as Francis had done. And just like Francis his lips formed his two last words. "Thank you." He lowered his head and stared straight into the barrel of the gun. A click as it was readied. I watched as Matthew took a deep breath but never wavered. A last tear slid down his cheek as he bravely stared into his death.

The shot rang out loud, passing through his forehead and staining his pure, angelic hair a sinful red. The devil's crimson ran down his porcelain skin and onto the snow as the life in his eyes faded out and was instead replaced by the cold doll like gleam of glass.

I clasped my hand over my mouth, desperately trying to conceal the sob that was trying to rip itself from my vocal cords, my hands shook as I watched my two best friends bleed out onto the snow of a German winter.

Most of the German troops had gone the only two remaining were the Captain and the man that had shot Marco. The Captain hoisted Alfred to his feet by the front of his shirt. "Go run and tell your troops that this war is ours. Tell them that you stood there doing nothing while your friends died one by one. You only watched as each individual of your regimen was shot and left to bleed, bleed until they could bleed no longer. Tell them that you were a coward to the very end, Jones. You were never a hero, only a coward in hero's armour. So go. Run. Just like you always do." He pushed him back and the two of them left, leaving Alfred in the clearing.

Alfred took a few steps back before turning and running back the way we came. I stayed in the tree for exactly five minutes after that, making sure none of the German soldiers were coming back. Once I was absolutely certain I descended the tree slowly, shaking.

The second my feet hit the ground my legs turned to jelly and I collapsed in a fit of tears. I crawled shakily over to Matthew and Francis. They lay inches apart from each other, their blood had formed one large red patch among the white and metal parts that had served as the fake sharp shooter point.

I pulled each of their heads on to my lap and began to slowly stroke their hair. I could hear faintly in the distance the loud chattering of the reinforcements drawing closer. As I lifted my head, eyes blurry from the tears, I spotted just the smallest bit of brown paper poking out from Francis' pocket. I reached to take it.

Slowly I unfolded it, expecting it to be something mildly pornographic but instead I found a family portrait. The photo was a black and white portrait of our family, Francis' arm around my shoulders and Matthew sat in Alfred's lap laughing.. I shook my head, tears beginning to slide down my face once more as I attempted to look into the eyes of the boy I had known. "Matthew." I whispered, hoping, praying that maybe, just maybe, I could wake him up that, no he wasn't really gone, he couldn't be. I couldn't be all alone, they were just sleeping. A cruel joke that had been taken only a little too far and Francis would jump up with that stupid grin of his and laugh at my angry, pouting face that he thought was so cute.

And Mattie, he would grin evilly and insist that they pull more pranks, lighten the mood. And I would scold them for being irresponsible and Matthew would apologize, but not Francis. No he'd insist that I lighten up then slap me on the shoulder.

I waited, waited for what felt like hours. Just hoping for that light to return to Matthew's eyes, waiting for Francis' laugh that I hated so much. But nothing happened. I closed Matthew's eyes just as the backup came into the clearing. Alfred was with them and his eyes widened as he saw me. "Dad!" He shouted before he came rushing over. 

He fell beside me and put an arm around my shoulders. "Artie, I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault lad." I looked up and our eyes met, Alfred's were red and puffy just like mine. "Come on, lets take them home." Alfred nodded and we stood. But home wouldn't be home anymore. Not without my family, Not without Francis and Matthew. I wished with all my being that I could somehow make up for how I had treated them all those years. But it was too late. Contrary to Alfred's beliefs, sometimes it is too late to be a hero.

AN:

Boom! Another chapter down.  hope you all enjoyed it. Vote and comment. Comments are my life blood.

- Matthew