𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐞 | 𝐰. 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝 ON HOLD

six

"Dirty bastards." Blake said while motioning to the tunnel, which has since collapsed.

"I wish I'd shot that rat now." Blake said, looking around the seemingly abandoned German artillery field.

"And I wish you'd choosen some other bloody idiots." Schofield said, sharply.

"What?" Blake asked, confused.

Alena could feel the tension in the air, and she hated it. Yes, she was angry with the Germans for leaving the trap, but she wasn't mad at Blake, she was glad he chose her.

"Why in God's name did you have to choose us?" Schofield replied, motioning to himself and Alena.

"I didn't know what I was picking you for." Blake said, his voice stern.

"No you didn't. You never know. That's your problem." Schofield was furious, he was angry with Blake for putting Alena in the line of fire.

"Will, please. It isn't his fault. How was he to know what they wanted him for?" Alena spoke, placing a hand on the man's shoulder as he knelt on the ground.

He reached up, placing his hand upon hers, holding it for a moment.

"Alright then, go back. No thing's stopping you. You can go all the way bloody home if you want."

Schofield turns to his friend, anger in his eyes, he hates the mention of home, and what he left behind.

"Don't." He says, sternly, wanting to end the conversation.

Blake gets down on his knee, so he's level with Schofield. Alena keeps her hand on his shoulder.

Blake speaks, his voice calmer than before, "Look, I didn't know what I was picking you for. I thought they were going to send us back up the line, or for food, or something. I thought it was going to be something easy, alright? I never thought it would be this."

There's a pause, Blake waits for a reaction from the others. Nothing.

"So do you want to go back?"

Schofield looked to him, his glare softening at the sight of his friend.
"Just fire the fucking flare."

Blake rummages around in his pocket, trying to find the cartridge for the flare gun. Once he found it, he loaded it into the empty gun.

He raises his arm, aiming the gun into the air, "Up yours, Lieutenant..."

The ball of fire shot from the object in Blake's hand, rising into the sky. Alena watched as the flare rose into the sky, and began a gradual decline towards the earth.

Blake tossed the gun, and lowers his hand to Schofield, helping him stand.

Alena continues watching the flare, as Blake studies his compass, trying to find his bearing.

"Do you know where we are?" Schofield asked him.

"Ecoust is directly south east. If we keep that bearing, we should make it."

Alena snaps her attention away from the light, looking out in the direction the ttwo men are facing. The land leads down into a quarry, German machine guns sit destroyed, empty shell cartridges lay abandoned. She notices a small trampled path leading out of the quarry, and through the corpses of blake trees.

"Come on then." Blake says, and they walk.

The pass by the guns, the barrels have been blown out - destroyed.

Blake speaks, "Look at that. They destroyed their own guns..."

"They destroyed their own trenches too." Schofield said.

"What do you mean?" Alena asked, confused by what the man was implying.

"I think they wanted us to go that way. They wanted to bury us." Schofield answered.

They keep going.

The land around them is almost silent, the only sounds to be heard is that of the wind rustling the leaves on the trees.

A sudden sound startles them, the men turn, ready to fire - a large rat scurries out from behind a sand bag

"Bastard rats." Blake says, his voice laced with disgust.

Alena looks to Schofield, he's still shaken from what happened in the tunnel. She falls back, waiting for him to catch up, "You alright?"

"Yeah, just a few aches here and there. But other than that, I'm good." He said, smiling at her.

Blake speaks, hoping to lighten the mood, "Hey - did you hear the story about Wilko? How he lost his ear?"

"I'm not in the mood. Keep your eyes on the trees, too of the ridge." Schofield replies.

Blake does as he's told, although, he continues his story, "Bet he told you it was shrapnel."

"What was it then?" Schofield asks, curious.

"Well, you know his girl's a hairdresser, right?" Blake says, "And he was moaning about the lack of bathing facilities when he wrote to her - remember those rancid jakes at Arras?"

Schofield nods, Alena is quite, listening intently.

"Anyway, she send him over this 'hair oil'. Smells sweet, like Golden Syrup. Wilko loves the smell, but he doesn't want to cart it around in his pack,"

They reach the line of trees at the edge of the quarry, Blake keeps talking, "So, he slathers it all over his Barnet, goes to sleep and in the middle of the night he wakes up, and a rat is sitting on his shoulder licking the oil off his head!"

Schofield let's out a chuckle, as does Alena.

"Wilko panics and he jumps up and when he does, the rat bites clean through his fucking ear and runs off with it!"

The trio are laughing, each of them imagining the sight of a rat running off with a chunk of the soldier's ear.

"Oh, he made a hell of a fuss, yelling, screaming."

The path they are on begins to slope downwards, out of the trees.

"Best of it was he put so much bloody oil on himself that he couldn't wash it off! He was like a magnet. Rats left us alone, but they couldn't get enough of him. Poor bastard."

They emerge from the trees, seemingly alone.

The two British planes from earlier can be seen hovering in the sky, arcing back towards the British lines.

"Heading home." Schofield says. "I wonder what they saw..."