In Small Heath | Peaky Blinders

eleven; people along the way

War had ripped through almost every single town Bash and his platoon passed through. There was no longer any life visible in the rubble, just emptied houses, ransacked shops and... unfortunately, a visible display of the death and despair.

The first one they all saw made a few of them chuck up the contents of their stomachs.

None of them had been expecting it, they were all told the area they were walking through had been relatively untouched by war, but boy was that wrong.

Charlie had seemed to take seeing a dead body the worst. From the second his eyes graced upon a poor girl; maybe a year older than he was, with eyes open but drained of life, his face never really returned to its full pinkish hue. There had been tales that a solider never forgot their first dead body, but usually it was the one they took down themselves, but for Charlie- he was surely never going to forget that poor girl.

"War moves quick, the little bitch." Jimmy Dawson muttered to himself, eyes focused on the path ahead.

They were a long ways away from their final destination, all still walking in the same formation they had been doing for almost a day now.

Charlie was further towards the back than Bash was, but it was his duty to make sure everyone in the platoon was as alright as they could be - all things considering. So, what bash decided to do was slow down his march (after telling the two men he was closest to as to why), and began to try and fall in line with him.

It didn't take too long before Bash and Charlie were walking shoulder to shoulder.

His face still looked... peaky, to say the least.

"Guess it's too late to ask if I can go home now, ain't it?" Charlie's voice came out as a meek whisper, nearing towards more of a squeak.

"Fraid' so, Charlie. But, we're all in the same boat, and you know you don't have to keep your thoughts in your head. You'll explode." Bash replied, nudging the younger bloke with his elbow, not wanting to push the youngsters mind into overdrive all while explaining that not a single one of the men there were in it alone.

If they were truly alone, well... Bash knew he himself wouldn't have survived the passing alone.

For a moment, Charlie's face was suddenly replaced with a pouting Finns. It plucked at Bash's heartstrings, as if playing one of Beethovens symphonies. Giving Bash an unwavering (though albeit momentary)  sense of doubt, Bash wanted nothing more but to give his youngest brother a hug. Maybe even read him one more bed time story.

"I'm scared-" Charlie started, almost choking on his words.

Truth be told, Bash was too, but being scared for him meant making mistakes which could lead to the men who entrusted him to protect them, to perish under enemy fire - and that weighing in someone's conscious would do wonders to suffocate them.

"I'm scared too, Charlie." Bash replied, rather quickly but instead of being allowed to continue with his spiel, he was cut off by Jimmy Dawson and Thomas Arthur, who both shared a slice of humility with the group.

"I think we all are, kid."

Originally, the group were supposed to be heading towards Hulluch, but a week; if that, before they had touched down on foreign soil, there had been a gas attack from the Germans against the British, meaning not only were both sides losing members of their forces to bullets but now the after effects of these gases.

The first gas attack was closely followed by a bombardment of artillery fire, the Germans managing to knock off a couple hundred - maybe close to a thousand, troops from both Scotland and Ireland were almost - as bad as the term was, dropping like flies.