September 7th, 1940

London, England.

It was a dark, rainy, and depressing night when it happened. What exactly happened that night well I'll get to that later. All I can tell you now is that it was of the worst things I have ever seen, well aside from 9/11, but that's another story that's also too painful for me to talk about anyway. I remember the night well; I was with him, England… Arthur I mean. I remember I couldn't stop complaining about how rainy his country was an he just scolded me with a scowl rambling about how his country was a million times more cultured than mine and that his country side was beautiful and all that crap he told me every time I said something negative about his nation. I remember I was sitting in the window alcove of his office, staring at the moon from behind the rain streaked glass. Arthur sat over at his desk, papers pushed aside for a moment as he enjoyed a cup of his favorite earl gray tea. Lately he hadn't been getting a lot of sleep and he had been extremely stressed over the whole World War II thing. I was glad to see he was finally taking the time to sit back and enjoy a cup of tea, something I hadn't seen him do in weeks.

He was perfectly fine a few moments before calling me another one of his freakish insults like 'wanker' before it happened. I heard the shattering crash of his tea cup hitting the floor. One of his beloved Wedgewood's tumbling down to the floor and meeting it end of a dozen tiny fragments. "Clumsy," I laughed knowing the idiot let the cup slip from his fingers accidentally. "That was your favorite cup stupi-." I instantly cut off my smart remark as soon as I got a look at his face. He had gone deathly pale, like he had seen the grim reaper himself. His green eyes were wide and clouded over with some kind of awful twisted emotion I don't even think I could start to describe. His hands trembled as his finger curved like talons as if he was trying to grip onto something, anything even the air. His mouth hung open and his breath came quiet and shaky. "…I-Iggy?" I questioned worriedly as I shifted in my seat so my feet were on the floor. Suddenly he slipped out of his chair, crumbling onto his knees on the floor; his hands know moved to his mouth as he made these god awful choking noises. I thought he was going to throw up so I quickly dashed and grabbed the garbage pail, placing in under his head so he wouldn't get upset about ruining his floor later. But when he finally did cough up whatever it was he was trying to cough up well… I'll tell you one thing, it wasn't vomit.

…It was blood. Dark, sticky, crimson blood splattered all over the insider of the pail and dripping down his chin at the corners of his mouth. "Arthur!" I exclaimed his name in complete shock as he collapsed onto his side and curled into a ball, clutching his chest. His mouth opening and closing with silent cries of agony, the only noises he made were gurgling and choking ones. "Arthur! Arthur! Arthur!" I called his name over and over as I gripped onto his shoulders and tried to flip him over onto his back. "Arthur! Tell me what's wrong! Where does it hurt! Arthur!" But he couldn't respond no matter how many times I demanded he do so. His whole body shook furiously in short quivers and trembles. I was absolutely horrified. I had no idea what was wrong with him. He had been perfectly fine a minute ago, having a normal conversation, and now here he was nearly having a seizure on the floor and coughing up blood!

I could see he was staring to black out; his eye lids closing half way and his green eyes starting to slightly roll back in their sockets. "Arthur… Arthur, don't pass out… stay awake." I warned as I grabbed his chin and held his head straight so I was looking straight in his paling green eyes. "Arthur come on! Tell me what's wrong!" I said as I shook him a little move violently than I should have, but I was desperate for him to stay awake. All he simply did was move one trembling hand to his chest and clutched the spot over his heart. In a voice so small weak and raspy he finally whispered,

"L-London… London is burning…" And with the pathetically weak statement his eyes closed and he went limp in my arms; head falling back to the floor out of my grip.

That was when I understood the seriousness of what was happening. England's capital… his heart… was being attacked by only god knew what. It was the only explanation and it was the most horrifying one as well. I did the only thing I could do; I screamed. I screamed and I screamed and I screamed. Someone help him… do something… save him… but I knew that no one could really do anything for him. It was his land that was being attacked and unless the attack on London stopped then his heart would keep suffering the pain and the damage until well… until it killed him.

A few of the soldiers stationed in the house came rushing in to find out what in god's name I was screaming about, they were shocked to find the scene before them. Unsure of what to do for him they just kind of kneeled down next to him panicked along with me. Why was being attacked? Who was doing it? The Germans or another one of the axis powers? "Sir Kirkland! Sir Kirkland!" Another voice came from the door way. "London! London! The lower east side has been bombed! The Luftwaffe ships are bombing the city!" So it was that German bastard. I looked over to unconscious England lying motionless on the floor, his chest just barely rising and falling in shaky and uneven breaths. How dare he do this… how dare that god dammed Nazi son of a bitch.

I then swore to god right there in that office that I would get the Nazi bastard back if it was the last thing I ever did.

Another one of my dark history series stories. This one is about the London Blitz (No duh its in the title) from September 7th 1940 to May 10th 1941. The London Blitz was a series of bombings from Nazi Germany's Luftwaffe air planes. Although the bombs were spread all over England the most bombs were dropped in the capital of London. The blitz began with the bombing of London which went on every night for 57 nights.
This story is supposed to be about the suffering England must go through during these bombings considering his captial is his heart.
Sort of USXUK will change P.O.V's every so often as well