the fight that is love

  Prologu

Feliciano had always been a carefree, happy go lucky guy. He believed war was a problem his country needed to fight, not him. So it never failed to pipe the interest in others of to why he had joined the Italian Resistance. It could've been because his Grandfather and brother were members, or it could've been for the attention and secret thrill others felt when joining the Resistance. Alas it was not for any of those reasons. It was to feel like he belonged. Feliciano was sensitive and sweet, but that made him an easy target at first glance. His older brother, Lovino, was always given harder , more dangerous missions while Feliciano was to be put out of danger, scouting for 7information and jobs any ragazza* could do. Feliciano wanted to feel like he belonged. He had no friends, for people always thought of him as an energetic ball of energy, a nuisance. As if it couldn't get any worse his grandfather treated him like a child. Feliciano longed for friendship. Someone to treat him equally and for Feliciano to rely on. So he joined the Resistance, where he was trained and pushed to the limit, for him to stand for the freedom of his country, Italy. As a member he earned respect, got out of his shell, fought and went on missions, and became everything he wanted to be. Grandpa begged Feliciano to back out, to go home, to cook and clean. Lovino didn't care either way. One mission, a simple one to collect information, changed his whole life. Feliciano messed up big time, and realized it too late.

The Fight That Is Love

" Troop 1, hit west wing"

Was the first command given of Feliciano Vargas's mission, MY mission, on the chilly morning of September 26,1944. I let out a nervous whimper. I held my M1928 to my chest and closed my eyes. I was a resistance commander, i was to die for my country if i had to. Still my nervous aura remained,

"Troop 2, back up Troop 1!"

I was getting anxious. Was this really such a good idea?

"Troop 3, hit eastern wing!"

No,now was not the time to question my choice. I've been training for so long, I swore to myself to never let anything stop me from fighting.

"Troop 4, fallow Troop 3!"

I open my eyes and step forward, my comrades starting to file up, load their guns and pray.

Pray to survive, pray for a free liberty, and pray for the people depending on us. My second in command, an American soldier, had a crazy look in his eyes.

"Troop 5 hit northern wing!"

I never really liked the alliance with those Americans but war was war. My second in command, Alfred, nudged me gently with the butt of his gun.

" ready to lead, commander Vargas?"

"Troop 6, infiltrate behind Troop 5!"

With a stiff nod, I yell out.

"Le truppe si muovono in avanti!"

"Troops move forward!"

And with that, I lead my men through the barren, dry land, straight into the claws of the Germans.

We marched for what seemed like hours,the tension thick and uneasy. Finally i stand before a hill, knowing at the bottom the fight was in motion. Troop 5 was in full blown combat with the german military. My men dived right in, the sound of guns shooting, people screaming, and blood watering the ground echoed around me. I fall to the ground, it's rough unforgiving nature embracing me, like the events around me. My hands go to cover my ears as I watch, wide golden eyes open in horror, as Alfred sets fire to a German tent, it's putrid smell filling my gentle nose. Tears stream down my olive skin as I shut my eyes tightly and begin to shake uncontrollably. My mother's gentle voice resonated through my ears. War was a merciless thing, and this battle, was only a taste of what others had to feel. My own mother died alongside my father in a resistance mission. Now of all times the guilt washed over me, like waves continuously crashing onto the sandy shore. A loud bang is what snaps me out of my mini panic attack. I Shakily stand, wiping at my tears furiously. I look up to see an American plane fly over and bomb the area ahead causing more smoke to rise from the ground and destruction to invade deeper in. I looked horrible, pale, with puffy red eyes, shaken, and a coward. I begin to fight. My mind entering into commander mode. Aim, shoot, reload. Mio dio*, are we winning? My body feels like it's been reloaded with adrenaline as I gleefully take down more men.