In Small Heath | Peaky Blinders

fifteen; heres to the ones we lost

Sounds of voices woke some of the soldiers up from their light slumber, everyone hadn't been off of the edge of their nerves since the misty and rather sneaky attack. At first, they didn't recognise the language, whether out of exhaustion or momentary confusion.

They didn't recognise who was talking, either, not until, collectively, their eyes fell upon Jimmy Dawson and Bash Shelby.

It wasn't a strange sight to see these two so deep in conversation, they almost ignored their surroundings, but this conversation sounded heavier than usual. As if neither of them wanted to have it, but were only having it out of necessity.

What they saw, was Bash taking off one of his sets of three stripes on his arm. It wasn't odd for men to take of their rank identifiers, but it was when they were still wearing the uniform.

Bash had thrown one half of the set into Jimmys hands, ignoring the displeased looks from the man before him.

He needed to do this, for the sake of everyone else.

From two days prior, his eyes still burned and his nose bled on occasion. He knew he was no longer fit to lead these men into battle, but he wasn't going to give up on them. He couldn't.

"I need eyes at the front, a man with a brain in his head not at the end of his dick."

Bash's words caused a bubble of laughter to get caught in Jimmys throat, he was always surprised with what came out of his boss's mouth, sometimes it was hard to hide the fact. When things that came from Bash weren't surprising, they were sarcastic - which was easier to swallow.

"I can't, I-"
"No, you can. I can't see my own feet, never mind anything else."

Without much of a chance for another exclamation of denial, Bash began to sew the patch over the Privates old one. Despite stabbing his finger with the dulled needle, he managed to finish it without stabbing Jimmy, though he wished he had gotten at least one little jab in.

"You've been promoted, I'll write to the King and make sure you're benefited properly." Bash said, tapping Jimmy on the newly mounted patch before getting up to his feet.

It wasn't Bash's job to promote people, he wasn't the King nor did he hold much power, but if it wasn't for the circumstances they were in, he wouldn't have done it.

"I'll walk behind with the injured and ill." Bash said, almost out of the blue.

Jimmy was about to protest before Bash's hand raised to silence him. It was strategic, strategy was the only thing Bash felt he could offer now that he was almost as useless as a spent bullet.

"The ill and injured can see, and I can walk." His word was final, simply by the moon on his face - disinterested in arguing any further on the matter.

Clearly, Bash was not up for any sort of debate on the matter and Jimmy just had to agree. It did take a moment or two for Jimmy to actually come to understand why Bash was going to do what he was going to do, it was clever - really.

Maybe something out of one of those books he knew the man read back home with his little brother.

Charlie turned to a man next to him, nudging him with a gentle elbow to the ribs, a muffled grunt followed by a exhale of air came from the solider who pushed himself up on the palms of his hands, eyes looking in the same direction that Charlie had been looking in for the last ten minutes.

Although he could lip read, with the two speaking so quickly, or rather incorrectly (with the way their mouths formed words) Charlie had only been able to distinguish the words promoted, King and walk. That didn't really give him much to go off, but it was better than nothing.