NOTE: This is from Germany's POV, third person. Italy is getting taunted too, but the focus is on Germany mainly. Also, Italy was pretty much worthless during the war and a good number of historians agree that the Third Reich would have gotten farther without the added burden of a pretty incompetent Mussolini and all the messes he made.

"All right, let's go," Britain told Germany as he fastened the shackles on his wrists. "It's over, mate."

Germany bowed his head. I was just following orders, he thought. Following orders... orders that he himself hated, but followed anyway. I'm a coward... I'm a coward... not for surrendering, but for beginning in the first place...

To say Germany wasn't looking forward to this would be a vast understatement. He and Italy were both about to be paraded in front of a crowd of angry and vengeful nations... he could hear Italy sobbing quietly behind him now. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Italy had collapsed in a heap, hands shackled behind him.

"Come on, dude," America told him, lifting him back to his feet again. "No one's gonna hurt you, okay? We're not like that..." Italy was shaking from head to foot as America took hold of his arm.

A cold and very strong hand clamped down on the back of Germany's neck. "Move forward, comrade," Russia told him. Germany shuddered at the voice, for it was as cold and threatening as his hands were. Germany felt himself being pushed along. Britain passed by him, looking harassed...

"I'm going to see if they got the wounded out all right," he called to Russia and America over his shoulder. Germany knew he was referring to Austria and Prussia. Never let it be said that the Allied forces are not humane to their prisoners, he thought a little bitterly.

"Right," America called in return. Then he turned to Italy. "Hey, buddy, take a deep breath," he told the boy, who was now hyperventilating. "You're gonna pass out if you keep that up." Italy did his best to suck a few deep breaths... he was shaking so violently that his knees buckled.

"Your little friend is upset, da?" Germany knew that Russia was just waiting for him to respond unfavorably, so he remained silent. They both watched as America managed to get Italy into a chair and give him a few sips of water from his canteen.

"Right," Britain announced, rejoining the group. "Let's move." America once again helped Italy to his feet and took hold of his arm. Germany braced himself for what was to come as he was once again pushed forward by Russia...

Verdammt ihn, Germany thought as he was led into the open air... his boss had taken the easy way out, killing himself before the Allies arrived, and left him to suffer the consequences. Consequences for following orders... how had he been so easily influenced?

A finger jabbed him sharply. "Dragging your feet won't delay the inevitable, comrade," Russia whispered mockingly.

The day was gray and cold. Britain led the way, directing the soldiers to keep the way clear as the prisoners were led to the waiting convoy. Following him, Germany with Russia's hand still clenched tightly on his neck. America came next, half dragging, half carrying a weeping Italy. Germany could hear America saying to Britain, "We may need a doctor for this one..."

All at once, the nations lining the pavement erupted into a chorus of jeers and taunts. Germany couldn't quite make out what they all were saying, but he could hear different accents... different languages... occasionally words...

Suddenly, something warm and wet hit him in the back of the neck, and a sulfurous smell filled his nostrils. Someone was throwing rancid eggs... it was Czechoslovakia, Yugoslavia and Romania. Bulgaria and Albania were shouting curses behind them.

"All right, all right," Britain shouted. "That's not really necessary." The other nations continued to scream and jeer...

"Obys zgnil w piekle!" shrieked a heavily accented voice. Germany looked up, startled, to see a gaunt and wild-eyed Poland lunging at him before being forcibly restrained by several soldiers. Even in his emaciated condition, it took at least three men to hold him back. "Swinia! Szumowiny! Bastard!" Germany shuddered... Russia snickered.

"You're most unpopular around here, da?" Germany looked down at the ground and said nothing.

The Nordic countries stood, side by side, like a stoic living wall, nearby. If looks could kill, Germany would be dead a thousand times over.

The next group he passed consisted of the three Baltic states: Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania. He could feel their eyes boring holes in him as he trudged by. Latvia said mockingly when Germany came within earshot, "I can't think of a fate bad enough for the... the..." he growled. Estonia nodded in agreement. Lithuania said nothing, just ran forward and spat on Germany before being pulled back behind the makeshift human barricade.

"Look at the conqueror now," another voice, a woman's, taunted him. Germany knew the voice as Hungary's. "What's wrong, fattyu ? Can't look at any of us, hmm? The bully is a coward after all!" A small rock hit him squarely on the ear. "LOOK AT US! LOOK AT US!"

"All right, miss, that's enough," Britain told her sharply. "Might I remind you that we are not like them..."

Germany lost the rest of what was said because it was drowned out by a piercing, high-pitched voice hurling abuse at him. Germany couldn't help but look at this one... Belarus had managed to break through the soldiers restraining the crowd and was running toward him shrieking, "Monstar! Monstar!"

She skidded to a stop in front of Germany, teeth bared. "I'll kill you with my own hands!" She leapt forward, hands clawing at Germany's neck. Russia pushed him aside...

"Sestra, go back!" he shouted at Belarus. "We have him now, he's not going to harm anyone else." Several soldiers caught up to her and managed to lead her away.

"I think I'm going to be ill," Italy whimpered, then retched. America swiftly pulled him over to a trash can and held him over it as he gagged and heaved.

"Here, dude," America told him quietly when he had finished. "Rinse your mouth." Italy took a sip of water from America's canteen, rinsed his mouth and spat into the trash can.

Germany turned to Russia and asked, "Is this really necessary?"

"I don't believe you are in any position to be making any demands now," Russia replied ominously.

Germany felt a faint chill crawling up his spine... he swiveled his head and noticed Ukraine standing solemnly by herself, in her military uniform, holding her rifle. Ukraine... the one he'd wanted for himself... he'd tried to break her, to make her a good companion for him. But he couldn't. He'd found out that even after he'd captured her, she'd quietly been working against everything he'd been doing.

I deserved it, he thought. He tried to catch her eye, but she remained stony faced and impassive. "I'm sorry Katya..." he whispered. Russia's huge hand began crushing the back of his neck.

"Stop looking at my sestra," Russia hissed. Germany's head immediately snapped forward again.

"Heh heh," a man's deep voice chuckled to their left. It was Holland, standing with Belgium and Luxembourg. Belgium glared fiercely at Germany as he drew nearer to them. Germany couldn't help but remember the destruction of Ypres during the Great War, and he was sure she remembered too. You had to do it again, didn't you? her eyes said. You got what was coming to you...

Luxembourg hung back slightly behind his brother and sister. Holland looked Germany in the eye, sneered and showed him his middle finger. Germany knew the Dutch and Belgian resistance had hampered their efforts greatly at the beginning of the war, so this was not unexpected. "Told you," Holland jeered. "Told you you couldn't beat us. Not really! Hah!"

The transport convoy was mercifully coming into view. France stood talking to one of the drivers... he looked up, manage to catch Germany's eye, and smirked. "Vous perdez, Allemagne," he said with a nasty edge to his voice.

"Let's get them out of here quickly," Britain told Russia, America and France. As they were being loaded into the back of the truck, Germany happened to notice Spain, standing with his arms folded and a smug grin on his face. Opportunist, Germany thought. It was true that Spain and his boss threw their support towards whatever side was winning... and played both ends against the middle, to boot.

It was only a matter of seconds before the doors clanged shut and the truck drove away...

"What's going to happen to us now?" Italy croaked, slumped against the side wall of the truck.

"I don't know," Germany replied wearily.

We were just following orders...

1. Verdammt ihn= Damn him

2. Obys zgnil w piekle= May you rot in hell!

3. Swinia! Szumowiny! Bastard!= Swine, scum, bastard

4. fattyu = bastard

5. Vous perdez, Allemagne= You lose, Germany

China and Japan are not here because this is Europe, and Japan didn't formally surrender until a few months later. I mostly focused on the countries that have been featured by the manga and anime, but with a few others too. I didn't include Romano, just because... maybe he was hiding in the Vatican or something... and my apologies for the loss of the accent marks in the non-English phrases. My format went to Hades after I uploaded...