❝ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴏʀ ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅɪꜱᴇ?
ɴᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ'ʟʟ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴄʀʏ
ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ'ꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ɴᴏ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴅɪᴇ❞
'April 6th 1917'
"Down to Gehenna or up to the
Throne.
He travels the fastest who travels
alone."
Where two young men and a woman during the first world war, are...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The pair watch out the open end of the truck, watching the farmhouse disappear, along with their friend.
"You got a fag?" One of the soldiers, Private Butler, sks. The man beside Schofield, Private Rossi, hands him one, "Yeah, there you go."
He places the small, white cylindrical object between his lips, lifting his hands to cup them around the end, as he lights it.
The man beside Alena, Private Cooke, speaks, "Butler... Oy. Carry on with that story."
The man, Butler, continues with his story, "Oh yeah, right. So. When we get off the train, Beaufoy comes up to us and he’s having a right go -"
His voice changes, into a more mocking tone of the man, Beaufoy, "'Lance Corporal! Whatever one does, one never lets standards slip,'" His voice returns to normal, and he continues, "The Scott comes out of the latrine, he wipes his hand on the back of Beaufoy’s jacket! Shit all down his back." The man exclaims.
The soldiers burst into laughter, giggling at the image of a senior officer running around with faeces wiped down his back.
"Was that mean to be Captain Beaufoy?" The man beside Alena asks, still laughing slightly.
Butler answers back, "Oh, piss of you. You can't do any better."
Cooke starts talking, adding a lisp to his voice, in order to sound like Captain Beaufoy, "'Men! Your rifle stocks are an embarrassment to the entire expeditionary force.'"
"You're both bloody awful." One of them speaks. His accent different, foreign.
Cooke looks at him, "You don't know. You barely even speak the bloody language."
William and Alena sit hand in hand as the men around them continue to chitter.
One of them, Private Malky, speaks, "He's got a better grasp of it than you, Cooke."
Private Cooke turns to the foreign man, "Go on then Jondalar, give it a go, let's see it."
The men in the back of the vehicle are getting louder, more rowdy. Schofield and Alena don't pay them much attention. Both of them focused on their grief.
Rossi shouts, "Let's hear it then Jonny."
All of them men start to encourage him, each one of them desperate to hear him impression of the man.
Jondalar straightens his back, putting on the same voice as the others, he begins moving his hands as he speaks, "'Rossi! Never in my two hundred years as a soldier have I seen such a sorry excuse for a latrine pit-'"
The soldiers laugh, enjoying the fun.
"Shite. That was total shit." Cooke says, half jokingly.
The rest if the men begin 'booing', disagreeing with the soldier.
The man opposite him chucks his water canteen at him, barely missing his teeth, "Oy! You could have taken my teeth out with that."