Post by mentalguru on Mar 22, 2010 6:20:26 GMT -5
For those you may or may not know, Zukaang week is happening in my other fandom right now- either dedicate a romantic or platonic piece of writing based on the seven prompts (one for each day). For the two main characters of Avatar: Aang (the main protaganist) and Zuko (who was the main antagonist for a long time).
Because the prompt for day two I wrote was strictly platonic, thought I'd post it up here.
It's a WW2 AU, during the blitz, though I have to admit there are some pieces which are not historically 100% accurate for certain. I had to write it quickly.
Ad I realise Iroh waiting until 1938 to move them might not make too much sense. And can rabbis be soldiers (I seriously had no clue and just realised until now.) Oh dear. Plus I feel like Boo and Randall friendship may have been in my head when writing this too. Not a complete copy of course though. (Zuko is not exactly Randall for one and Boo has a BIT of Sokka in her too if I really think about it in my version). Ah, the pains of writing fast!
Basically though Aang is British. Zuko is a German kid. It's during an air raid. It's sort of dedicated to the sometimes forgotten 10,000 Germans and Austrians who joined the RAF, as well as the fact that the idea of how their KIDS must have farred in the war was probably pretty difficult.
Jet, in case you're wondering is another character from the show- his parents in the show were killed by Zuko's people, and he hated him by default because of that. So I also included him.
Still, this almost reads like an original fiction almost (despite the first names NOT being typically English or German), so maybe you'll enjoy it all the same, even if you don't watch the show.
--
He thought back to what had happened. Not for not the first time, Zuko cursed the name of his Uncle for bringing them to this country, and then instantly retracted it in guilt without saying a word outloud.
Zuko could be unreasonable but he wasn't made of stone. Right now, his Uncle, flew on in a different flurry, in a different sky, in a different storm of insanity, he was fighting against the enemy... his fellow Germans.
'Fellow Germans?' He could almost hear his Uncle cry out, 'Zuko!This is our home now! And they fight for a mad man. We fight for honour! I may have served for them in the Great War, but now we must fight for freedom!'
Zuko resisted the urge to spit. Trying not to recall the tears of pain as he'd hugged him goodbye. They'd moved to London in the year 1938 in December without much of a penny to their names; in order to get away from his father perhaps, and not simply Hitler (to whom Iroh had openly cursed his name joyously as soon as they set foot on British soil). Less than a year later, however suddenly they were at war.
Okay so it hadn't really been sudden. Zuko vaguely knew from his Uncle's mutterings over the newspapers over tea that this had almost been inevitable. There had been political dance steps and rather pathetic pandering on that Chamberlin's part for a while. Or something to that effect. Then they'd given the warning: stay clear of Poland.
But Germany could not resist. And now the world had gone straight to hell, or at least it had for them. Now the blitz! The French had fallen and it was the days before the Russians and the Americans had offered help. Where people had precious little to hope for, and yet continued to do so.
Zuko thought hope was a pathetic and useless waste of energy now.
"It's okay. It'll be over soon." Zuko turned to face the much younger boy, who had got up from the other bed to where he'd been sitting. He was smiling almost peacefully. As if the rage over their heads was not happening at all.
Okay, so it was really this boys fault he was in this awkward situation, Zuko unfairly decided as he tried to resist the urge to speak. He also was hating him for causing him to waste a precious second thinking things would be okay when they wouldn't ever be in reality. Zuko had been caught unawares during the raid, chased by a boy Jet, if he recalled, down the street, screaming at him. He'd tripped over a hole, and twisted his ankle and that boy, that youth had left him there as he heard the sirens. Then HE had appeared. This impossible child had appeared out of nowhere and dragged him only a few streets away to a family shelter. Despite Zuko's protests to him to drop him. Despite his voice, despite what he was... and Zuko did not understand his motivations at all.
He should not have been jealous of this boy and his unabashed good Samaritan act. But he was. Zuko in his soul was unsure if he would have done the same thing. The air raid signal had almost ended for them and this boy had missed the public shelter due to finding him. But he'd still wanted to help him and didn't leave him behind, dragging him to a private one which was empty in a garden; though in the darkness Zuko had grunted as they'd tripped over various misplaced items. "Left for the country the poor sods." The boy had said with no trace of irony or sarcasm in his voice as he'd opened the door. He had not even drawn attention to the tear stains that had been on his face at the time only noticable now in the light of the shelter, tears Zuko had hastily wiped away, the boy simply mumbling and whispering to him that it was okay and that he knew they'd be okay here.
Zuko had felt tempted to tell him to shut up.
But Zuko was also still trying his best not to say anything. Perhaps the boy had not noticed his accent yet in the panic. His voice incriminated him. It always had. As fresh and clear as the day he had left Germany, marking him more than his scar ever had. Even BEFORE the war it had been difficult, but now it was just a nightmare. His foolish pride and his fear prevented him from going to the country like other children. He had run away fearing never returning to see his Uncle again the rumours of other children reaching him, but he regretted it more and more every day. The other street children knew of him, and it would not surprise him if this one was the same: all smiles until their ears were pricked by his accent. Jet had not been the first boy to charge at him and he would not be the last. Most people were indifferent to it, being of the belief that he was in the same boat, and he was just a child. The problem was, other children still lived in the city too, and they were sometimes less forgiving and more brutal than adults.
"My name is Aang. Aang Cohen." the boy said said brightly as this ran through his mind. "What's yours?"
"Jewish huh?" Zuko said, almost cursing himself, not just for talking at all but his exact words. The accent itself lent various conotations, even in the days before the true horrors had been discovered, and for all he knew, perhaps the boy had not noticed the accent before in reality. "I'm Zuko."
"Surname?" Aang had prompted.
"Rall." He said shortly immediately cursing himself for telling the truth, but something about this boy which caused him to do so. Also, Zuko had always been a terrible liar anyway.
"Ah, so you really ARE a Jerry." He sounded... fascinated rather than disgusted.
"...yes."
"Huh. So your dad is fighting right now? On our boys side, I mean." he quickly added, realising how that may have sounded.
"My Uncle actually." Zuko said shortly but sounded surprised that he'd guessed.
Aang simply smiled. "I actually read the newspapers. Collect them actually. I know some of you are with us. I'll show you some of them later if you want." he shrugged.
"Really." The increduality in his voice was startling.
"Hey. Don't knock it. I hear that you take English names usually but they're all having their praises sung. Just quietly, you know. Besides why else would you be here?" the boy said, giving a wink. "Nothing like keeping informed with a cup of tea. This IS England after all." he mocked slightly.
Zuko gave a thin smile, thinking how his Uncle would love this boy, trying not to be jealous of such an idea. But the he quickly frowned, his Uncle was out there in battle and he was making JOKES?
"He could die you know. My Uncle." He snapped, "He could die defending us and people will still hate him. Still hate me. Both of us. Shut up."
"Sorry I...I but...I don't hate you."
"Shut up." He was unable to take this. Why did he have to be saddled with this stupid boy?
"I don't. You're kind of a richard, and I'm sure Sokka would agree, but I like you. He's one of my friends and Katara-"
"I said shut up!" The talk of other friends scorched him, "You don't understand! My Uncle could die! I have no-one else! NO-ONE!"
There was no response at first, but then he finally spoke:
"You're not the only one who lost someone in this war you know. I mean there's a chance your Uncle will come back at least." No smile this time.
The younger boy's tone was not meant to be offensive, and it wasn't. It was calm, soft and gentle as a breeze. He was merely speaking the truth and yet it was also not devoid of emotion- his intakes being haggared and cold. But in place of it, he still tried to produce warmth. He had simply hidden his pain well but now Zuko saw it when he looked into his eyes. Zuko stared at him as he finally turned his head away, slightly unnerved perhaps himself at the proding look.
"My foster father.... he was a rabbi you know. One day the letters just stopped. I ran away from the orphanage and... when I changed my mind... it was gone. They all were. It was the... first time the bombs hit." He continued, a swallow, the fighting back of tears. A boy forced to grow up before his time. Survivor's guilt. And I had no-one else for a long time until I met my friends. The words left unsaid. An old story. One written on many faces and not those just scarred.
"....I'm sorry."
"You didn't know..."he said with a small shrug.
"But... I'm German, and you suspected that. You're English and.... you're Jewish." Even before the truth, before the chambers, before the screams were public, they knew what that meant. He read the papers after all.
"So? You're not... HIM. I mean, did you ever hurt someone because of what they were?"
"Once." Zuko swallowed unsure why as the thuds, the roars continued to sound he was telling him this. But something about this child meant you wished to tell him everything. Absolution, confession. Check your judgement at the shelter door. Or so he hoped. "No twice. My father said it was a good thing, I kind of hit a kid in the face because he was... Jewish.... but my Uncle he told me it was wrong. He had to leave after that. My father wasn't pleased and when I stood up to him... he flicked a finger to his scar. "Well you know."
He looked up to him in challenge at the boys look of concern (not pity, not such an emotion one would reserve a pathetic animal but one of actual genuine affection), "I didn't do it for the kid. I did it for my Uncle. I even threw a few bricks during Kristallnacht- you know the shop windows. My dad was so proud, and I felt good for making him proud at the time... NOW do you hate me? Like you should?"
Aang paused before answering.
"We're at war. Bombs are falling. We're both stuck here for now and who knows? We might not live to see tomorrow. A bloody nose to some kid I don't even know and some broken windows hardly seems big now even if it is wrong. Besides, you feel guilty now. I can tell."
Zuko blinked.
"Why else would you tell me?" Aang said calmly, "You didn't have to, and for all you know I could have thrown you out."
"You?!" He snorted all the same relief washing over him. He'd almost forgotten how good it had been to laugh. He'd done precious little of that.
Aang puffed out his chest in mockery of himself and said in a hoarse voice as if immiating a very old gentleman. "Young man! Show some respect! I dragged your ass into this world and I can drag you out!"
"Pretty small world." Zuko muttered as he glanced around. Another few booms sounded, and he glanced up.
'Uncle'
The younger boy followed his gaze to his roof and sighed, dragging him underneath the bunk bed.
"It's cold." Aang supplied. "Might as well get some rest while we can. You're shivering."
And Zuko gave a weak smile. Even the boy could tell he was frightened. Other children mocked and scorned him, and even adults had snorted in public shelters due to his older age, but with every beat of death from the skies he felt the ever decreasing certainty that his Uncle would return. He had no-one else. And he'd felt that was his own fault somehow. He even at odd times missed his father, his sister, the one who had screamed at her Uncle when he'd tried to take her too, but especially his mother, only a faded memory now.
But as the younger boy clutched to him under the blankets, Zuko suddenly felt... peaceful.
During a war. As hell was raised. As elements mixed. As fire scorched the air and the earth and planes flew below clouds. Two young boys, one an English Jew, the other a German who had been so close to being raised an anti-semite, two unlikely friends in the midst of a war, in the storm, hung on.
Britain might have thought they had to stand alone.
But from that very moment, Zuko wouldn't have to.
--
A/N: Everyone seems to make the Avatar cast American in AUs (heck I've got it planned for a later prompt), and while it's unsurprising given the show is American, they well, act American and most fans are, I decided to have a crack at making Aang British, and Aang a Jew in addition to Zuko being German (not one of the presecuted minorities that left but just a relation to one of the Germans who felt they had to leave due to the political climate and perhaps personal issues which are just typical for Zuko). And stuck in a shelter together during the Blitz. Did you know that ten thousand Germans and Austrians joined the British Air Force in WW2? Well this is kind of my tribute to them. By making Iroh one of them. I'm not sure how much they might care for a tribute involving a one shot AU fanfiction of an American cartoon of a slash pairing (even if it is light and actually is pretty much platonic), but I hope they'll like the thought anyway if they happen to find it by accident (search engines can be wacky like that). Pretend Iroh is younger though I guess. It seems like they're kind of sometimes forgotten about though. I was never taught about them in school for instance, heck I only learned about them because I like history in general and my dad is a nut for that kind of thing (WW2). I chose Zuko's German surname at random and Aang's is the most common current Jewish name in Britain. I also figured it must have been hard sometimes for the kids at the same time. I'm betting there was occasionally some bad times, even though most people WOULD have been pulling together. But kids got left behind. Or ran away rather than getting evacuated. It happened.
And hey just because it isn't remembrance day doesn't mean we can't pay tribute. Try to pretend Zuko's a bit younger though maybe too.
I really think the only person I remember of ACTUALLY serving in the German army in ww1 and the British one in ww2 was called 'Sulzbach', but I may be wrong. I hope he doesn't mind me adding Iroh 'Rall' there along with him either way.
I'm not the type of person who goes all teary eyed or patriotic of course. But ever since I heard Germans fought on the British side: this gnawed at my brain. I don't pretend however that it is 100% historically accurate however. For instance I have no idea if they REALLY knew Germans fought on their side too at the time or printed them in the newspapers.
Because the prompt for day two I wrote was strictly platonic, thought I'd post it up here.
It's a WW2 AU, during the blitz, though I have to admit there are some pieces which are not historically 100% accurate for certain. I had to write it quickly.
Ad I realise Iroh waiting until 1938 to move them might not make too much sense. And can rabbis be soldiers (I seriously had no clue and just realised until now.) Oh dear. Plus I feel like Boo and Randall friendship may have been in my head when writing this too. Not a complete copy of course though. (Zuko is not exactly Randall for one and Boo has a BIT of Sokka in her too if I really think about it in my version). Ah, the pains of writing fast!
Basically though Aang is British. Zuko is a German kid. It's during an air raid. It's sort of dedicated to the sometimes forgotten 10,000 Germans and Austrians who joined the RAF, as well as the fact that the idea of how their KIDS must have farred in the war was probably pretty difficult.
Jet, in case you're wondering is another character from the show- his parents in the show were killed by Zuko's people, and he hated him by default because of that. So I also included him.
Still, this almost reads like an original fiction almost (despite the first names NOT being typically English or German), so maybe you'll enjoy it all the same, even if you don't watch the show.
--
He thought back to what had happened. Not for not the first time, Zuko cursed the name of his Uncle for bringing them to this country, and then instantly retracted it in guilt without saying a word outloud.
Zuko could be unreasonable but he wasn't made of stone. Right now, his Uncle, flew on in a different flurry, in a different sky, in a different storm of insanity, he was fighting against the enemy... his fellow Germans.
'Fellow Germans?' He could almost hear his Uncle cry out, 'Zuko!This is our home now! And they fight for a mad man. We fight for honour! I may have served for them in the Great War, but now we must fight for freedom!'
Zuko resisted the urge to spit. Trying not to recall the tears of pain as he'd hugged him goodbye. They'd moved to London in the year 1938 in December without much of a penny to their names; in order to get away from his father perhaps, and not simply Hitler (to whom Iroh had openly cursed his name joyously as soon as they set foot on British soil). Less than a year later, however suddenly they were at war.
Okay so it hadn't really been sudden. Zuko vaguely knew from his Uncle's mutterings over the newspapers over tea that this had almost been inevitable. There had been political dance steps and rather pathetic pandering on that Chamberlin's part for a while. Or something to that effect. Then they'd given the warning: stay clear of Poland.
But Germany could not resist. And now the world had gone straight to hell, or at least it had for them. Now the blitz! The French had fallen and it was the days before the Russians and the Americans had offered help. Where people had precious little to hope for, and yet continued to do so.
Zuko thought hope was a pathetic and useless waste of energy now.
"It's okay. It'll be over soon." Zuko turned to face the much younger boy, who had got up from the other bed to where he'd been sitting. He was smiling almost peacefully. As if the rage over their heads was not happening at all.
Okay, so it was really this boys fault he was in this awkward situation, Zuko unfairly decided as he tried to resist the urge to speak. He also was hating him for causing him to waste a precious second thinking things would be okay when they wouldn't ever be in reality. Zuko had been caught unawares during the raid, chased by a boy Jet, if he recalled, down the street, screaming at him. He'd tripped over a hole, and twisted his ankle and that boy, that youth had left him there as he heard the sirens. Then HE had appeared. This impossible child had appeared out of nowhere and dragged him only a few streets away to a family shelter. Despite Zuko's protests to him to drop him. Despite his voice, despite what he was... and Zuko did not understand his motivations at all.
He should not have been jealous of this boy and his unabashed good Samaritan act. But he was. Zuko in his soul was unsure if he would have done the same thing. The air raid signal had almost ended for them and this boy had missed the public shelter due to finding him. But he'd still wanted to help him and didn't leave him behind, dragging him to a private one which was empty in a garden; though in the darkness Zuko had grunted as they'd tripped over various misplaced items. "Left for the country the poor sods." The boy had said with no trace of irony or sarcasm in his voice as he'd opened the door. He had not even drawn attention to the tear stains that had been on his face at the time only noticable now in the light of the shelter, tears Zuko had hastily wiped away, the boy simply mumbling and whispering to him that it was okay and that he knew they'd be okay here.
Zuko had felt tempted to tell him to shut up.
But Zuko was also still trying his best not to say anything. Perhaps the boy had not noticed his accent yet in the panic. His voice incriminated him. It always had. As fresh and clear as the day he had left Germany, marking him more than his scar ever had. Even BEFORE the war it had been difficult, but now it was just a nightmare. His foolish pride and his fear prevented him from going to the country like other children. He had run away fearing never returning to see his Uncle again the rumours of other children reaching him, but he regretted it more and more every day. The other street children knew of him, and it would not surprise him if this one was the same: all smiles until their ears were pricked by his accent. Jet had not been the first boy to charge at him and he would not be the last. Most people were indifferent to it, being of the belief that he was in the same boat, and he was just a child. The problem was, other children still lived in the city too, and they were sometimes less forgiving and more brutal than adults.
"My name is Aang. Aang Cohen." the boy said said brightly as this ran through his mind. "What's yours?"
"Jewish huh?" Zuko said, almost cursing himself, not just for talking at all but his exact words. The accent itself lent various conotations, even in the days before the true horrors had been discovered, and for all he knew, perhaps the boy had not noticed the accent before in reality. "I'm Zuko."
"Surname?" Aang had prompted.
"Rall." He said shortly immediately cursing himself for telling the truth, but something about this boy which caused him to do so. Also, Zuko had always been a terrible liar anyway.
"Ah, so you really ARE a Jerry." He sounded... fascinated rather than disgusted.
"...yes."
"Huh. So your dad is fighting right now? On our boys side, I mean." he quickly added, realising how that may have sounded.
"My Uncle actually." Zuko said shortly but sounded surprised that he'd guessed.
Aang simply smiled. "I actually read the newspapers. Collect them actually. I know some of you are with us. I'll show you some of them later if you want." he shrugged.
"Really." The increduality in his voice was startling.
"Hey. Don't knock it. I hear that you take English names usually but they're all having their praises sung. Just quietly, you know. Besides why else would you be here?" the boy said, giving a wink. "Nothing like keeping informed with a cup of tea. This IS England after all." he mocked slightly.
Zuko gave a thin smile, thinking how his Uncle would love this boy, trying not to be jealous of such an idea. But the he quickly frowned, his Uncle was out there in battle and he was making JOKES?
"He could die you know. My Uncle." He snapped, "He could die defending us and people will still hate him. Still hate me. Both of us. Shut up."
"Sorry I...I but...I don't hate you."
"Shut up." He was unable to take this. Why did he have to be saddled with this stupid boy?
"I don't. You're kind of a richard, and I'm sure Sokka would agree, but I like you. He's one of my friends and Katara-"
"I said shut up!" The talk of other friends scorched him, "You don't understand! My Uncle could die! I have no-one else! NO-ONE!"
There was no response at first, but then he finally spoke:
"You're not the only one who lost someone in this war you know. I mean there's a chance your Uncle will come back at least." No smile this time.
The younger boy's tone was not meant to be offensive, and it wasn't. It was calm, soft and gentle as a breeze. He was merely speaking the truth and yet it was also not devoid of emotion- his intakes being haggared and cold. But in place of it, he still tried to produce warmth. He had simply hidden his pain well but now Zuko saw it when he looked into his eyes. Zuko stared at him as he finally turned his head away, slightly unnerved perhaps himself at the proding look.
"My foster father.... he was a rabbi you know. One day the letters just stopped. I ran away from the orphanage and... when I changed my mind... it was gone. They all were. It was the... first time the bombs hit." He continued, a swallow, the fighting back of tears. A boy forced to grow up before his time. Survivor's guilt. And I had no-one else for a long time until I met my friends. The words left unsaid. An old story. One written on many faces and not those just scarred.
"....I'm sorry."
"You didn't know..."he said with a small shrug.
"But... I'm German, and you suspected that. You're English and.... you're Jewish." Even before the truth, before the chambers, before the screams were public, they knew what that meant. He read the papers after all.
"So? You're not... HIM. I mean, did you ever hurt someone because of what they were?"
"Once." Zuko swallowed unsure why as the thuds, the roars continued to sound he was telling him this. But something about this child meant you wished to tell him everything. Absolution, confession. Check your judgement at the shelter door. Or so he hoped. "No twice. My father said it was a good thing, I kind of hit a kid in the face because he was... Jewish.... but my Uncle he told me it was wrong. He had to leave after that. My father wasn't pleased and when I stood up to him... he flicked a finger to his scar. "Well you know."
He looked up to him in challenge at the boys look of concern (not pity, not such an emotion one would reserve a pathetic animal but one of actual genuine affection), "I didn't do it for the kid. I did it for my Uncle. I even threw a few bricks during Kristallnacht- you know the shop windows. My dad was so proud, and I felt good for making him proud at the time... NOW do you hate me? Like you should?"
Aang paused before answering.
"We're at war. Bombs are falling. We're both stuck here for now and who knows? We might not live to see tomorrow. A bloody nose to some kid I don't even know and some broken windows hardly seems big now even if it is wrong. Besides, you feel guilty now. I can tell."
Zuko blinked.
"Why else would you tell me?" Aang said calmly, "You didn't have to, and for all you know I could have thrown you out."
"You?!" He snorted all the same relief washing over him. He'd almost forgotten how good it had been to laugh. He'd done precious little of that.
Aang puffed out his chest in mockery of himself and said in a hoarse voice as if immiating a very old gentleman. "Young man! Show some respect! I dragged your ass into this world and I can drag you out!"
"Pretty small world." Zuko muttered as he glanced around. Another few booms sounded, and he glanced up.
'Uncle'
The younger boy followed his gaze to his roof and sighed, dragging him underneath the bunk bed.
"It's cold." Aang supplied. "Might as well get some rest while we can. You're shivering."
And Zuko gave a weak smile. Even the boy could tell he was frightened. Other children mocked and scorned him, and even adults had snorted in public shelters due to his older age, but with every beat of death from the skies he felt the ever decreasing certainty that his Uncle would return. He had no-one else. And he'd felt that was his own fault somehow. He even at odd times missed his father, his sister, the one who had screamed at her Uncle when he'd tried to take her too, but especially his mother, only a faded memory now.
But as the younger boy clutched to him under the blankets, Zuko suddenly felt... peaceful.
During a war. As hell was raised. As elements mixed. As fire scorched the air and the earth and planes flew below clouds. Two young boys, one an English Jew, the other a German who had been so close to being raised an anti-semite, two unlikely friends in the midst of a war, in the storm, hung on.
Britain might have thought they had to stand alone.
But from that very moment, Zuko wouldn't have to.
--
A/N: Everyone seems to make the Avatar cast American in AUs (heck I've got it planned for a later prompt), and while it's unsurprising given the show is American, they well, act American and most fans are, I decided to have a crack at making Aang British, and Aang a Jew in addition to Zuko being German (not one of the presecuted minorities that left but just a relation to one of the Germans who felt they had to leave due to the political climate and perhaps personal issues which are just typical for Zuko). And stuck in a shelter together during the Blitz. Did you know that ten thousand Germans and Austrians joined the British Air Force in WW2? Well this is kind of my tribute to them. By making Iroh one of them. I'm not sure how much they might care for a tribute involving a one shot AU fanfiction of an American cartoon of a slash pairing (even if it is light and actually is pretty much platonic), but I hope they'll like the thought anyway if they happen to find it by accident (search engines can be wacky like that). Pretend Iroh is younger though I guess. It seems like they're kind of sometimes forgotten about though. I was never taught about them in school for instance, heck I only learned about them because I like history in general and my dad is a nut for that kind of thing (WW2). I chose Zuko's German surname at random and Aang's is the most common current Jewish name in Britain. I also figured it must have been hard sometimes for the kids at the same time. I'm betting there was occasionally some bad times, even though most people WOULD have been pulling together. But kids got left behind. Or ran away rather than getting evacuated. It happened.
And hey just because it isn't remembrance day doesn't mean we can't pay tribute. Try to pretend Zuko's a bit younger though maybe too.
I really think the only person I remember of ACTUALLY serving in the German army in ww1 and the British one in ww2 was called 'Sulzbach', but I may be wrong. I hope he doesn't mind me adding Iroh 'Rall' there along with him either way.
I'm not the type of person who goes all teary eyed or patriotic of course. But ever since I heard Germans fought on the British side: this gnawed at my brain. I don't pretend however that it is 100% historically accurate however. For instance I have no idea if they REALLY knew Germans fought on their side too at the time or printed them in the newspapers.