𝐆𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐁𝐘𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐒𝐊𝐘, 𝑊. 𝑆𝐶𝐻𝑂𝐹𝐼𝐸𝐿𝐷

two.

CHAPTER TWO.   SLIP OUT OF YOUR DEPTH

"SETTLE A BET, WILL YA?" His voice was rough with weariness. The dark circles around his eyes were a deep purple and the veins in his eyes were more prominent. His gaze was blank, alluding to the horrors he had seen. She prayed she would never be like him. "What day is it?" His face was shiny with sweat. His gaze danced between all of them. He recognized her, but the boys were unfamiliar to him.

"Friday, sir." Schofield answered.

"Friday," the man scoffs, rubbing his face. "Looks like none of us was right. This idiot thought it was Tuesday." The soldier he waved towards apologized before ducking his head and continuing to read whatever book he held. Perhaps it was a Bible. The lieutenant turned to the nurse. "They roped you into all of this?"

"The General did." A small, joking smile played on her lips. "You know how it goes, shit flows downhill and I'm at the bottom of the hill, apparently."

Lieutenant Leslie chuckled as he began reading over the letter that Blake had handed him. His face immediately dropped. "Are they out of their fucking minds? One slow night, and the brass think the Hun have just gone home?"

"You think they're wrong, sir?" Schofield asked as he glanced towards Blake to gauge his reaction.

Shaking his head, Leslie rubbed his face once again. "We lost an officer and three men two nights ago. They were shot to bits patching up the wire. No point in calling the nurses 'cause we couldn't even get to 'em until nightfall. We dragged 'em back here. Shouldn't have bothered, now that I think about it."

Determination filled Blake. His brother was in danger. If they didn't reach Écoust then who knew what could happen. "Sir, the General is sure the enemy have withdrawn. There are aerials of the new line-"

He was cut off when Leslie pushed himself out of the bed. "Shut up," he hissed at the young soldier, "we've fought and died over every inch of this fucking place, now they suddenly give us miles?"

"Les, what if he's right?" Mags spoke up, surprising both of the men. "What if they have retreated? That means we've got a shot and you know damn well better than to lose that."

"You may see our wounded, but you do not see battle." Leslie spoke, turning his attention to the nurse. "You don't see them while they're getting shot or blown to bits or gutted by the enemy."

Mags nodded slowly. "You're right. I thank God every night that I don't. But I've had too many men die from being too afraid to do something like pull the trigger to not take this opportunity. I know you feel the same way, but you're being too fucking stubborn to admit it."

Leslie's jaw visibly clenched. Both Blake and Schofield stiffened up as they watched the exchange. A tense moment passed before a smile and a chuckle spilled from the lieutenant's lips. "You're a work of art, you know that, Winters?" With a proud smirk adorning her rosy lips, she followed the man through the trench. Both soldiers followed behind them. The lieutenant stopped suddenly, turning to the trio. "This is a trap. But," he turns to the men, "chin up. There's a medal in it for sure. Nothing like a scrap of metal to cheer up a former mother and a widow."

Mags' right hand gently grazed against the jacket, where the photos of her family rested. This action did not go unnoticed by all three men. With a shake of his head, Leslie continued guiding them through the trench towards a small rudimentary periscope that pointed out towards the front lines. "Where's the nearest way through, sir?" Blake asked from behind Mags.

"Our wire's a mess, but there is a path through, of sorts." Leslie shrugged. He motioned Blake towards the periscope. "Rushworth, let them look!" He waved for the soldier on the periscope to step down and let Blake take a look through it. "Straight ahead, to the left, past the dead horses. There's a gap directly behind them." Mags winced at the thought of climbing over the corpses of horses and men alike. "Useful, because if it's dark, you just follow the stench. When you get to the second wire, look out for the bowing chap. There's a small break just beside him."

Both Mags and Schofield shared unnerved glances. Everything inside them told them to run. This couldn't be right. What if the German hadn't gone after all? Was it worth it to just get gunned down the moment they poked their heads out of the trench? Would they become just another corpse on the battlefield, left to rot for the vultures? Her left thumb began digging into the palm of her right hand. "The German line is a hundred and fifty odd yards after that. Watch out for the craters. They're deeper than they look. You fall in, there's no getting out." Leslie motions for them to continue following him.

"Any cover, sir?" Schofield asked as he followed closely behind Leslie. "Anywhere to jump off from?"

Leslie motions them towards a makeshift ladder made out of plywood. "No. The sap trench was blown to hell weeks ago. It's full of bodies anyway. Your best bet is to pop over here."

Mags stared at the ladder with uncertainty. This did not spell out anything good for them. "This is where we go up?" She asked, her voice wavering.

Leslie turned to her, a sorry look in his eyes. "Do you have to go with them? It's a suicide mission." His gaze danced to the boys who stared at them with wide and nervous eyes. "No offense, lads."

"General's orders." She chuckled nervously. "I told him the same thing and he got angry with me."

"Men often do when a woman's right." Leslie patted her shoulder in a comforting manner before turning to the men. "If you do get shot, try to make it back to the wire. We won't come after you, not until it's dark. And, if by some fucking miracle you do make it, send up a flare."

Schofield shared glances between Mags and Blake. "We don't have any, sir."

Leslie turns to a soldier. "Well get him one, Kilgour!" The soldier was quick to jog off to grab a flare gun. Mags rolled her eyes at Leslie's shouts. The lieutenant pulls out a flask of whiskey and begins sprinkling it on them. "'Through this holy unction may the Lord pardon thee whatever sins or faults thou hast committed.'" His eyes land on the nurse. "Especially you, you naughty bird." The blonde rolled her eyes, raising her middle finger at him.

When Kilgour returned with a flare gun, Leslie quickly took it and handed it to Blake. "I do hate to lose these to the Hun. So, when they start shooting at you, could you be so kind as to throw it back." He gives a throwing motion before patting Blake's shoulder. "There's a good chap. Cheerio." He turns to the nurse that's remained silent for most of the time. "Try and keep yourself alive out there. You're no good to us in a box, dearest. And take this." He places his flask of whiskey in her hand. "You'll need it more than I."

"I'll make sure to make it back, just for you, John." Mags pressed a soft and quick kiss to Leslie's cheek before joining the two soldiers at the ladder. Stuffing the flask into her pack, she pushed back pieces of honey blonde hair. She stood behind Blake, preparing to climb onto the battlefield. Her breathing became jagged and her ears began to ring. The only noise she heard was her heavy breathing. Wrapping her hands around the strap of her pack, she blinked away the tears that built in her eyes before climbing the ladder after Blake.

There was no turning back. This was it and this was where she left her old self behind.