Passchendaele (APH Canada)

A Pittance Of Time

Soldiers. Stationed in Belgium, Passchendaele. November 10th 1917. In the muddy trenches. There stood guard,Canada, AKA, Matthew Williams and Lawrence Browning Rogers, among many others.

Among those soldiers were many wounded. Lawrence was 37 when he signed up for the military making him older than many other soldiers. Lawrence, one of the few army medics stationed there. He was currently tending to his closest friend, Canada. Although Canada was probably the youngest in human years, he had lived the longest. Lawrence being 39 years old and Canada at a mere 22 years old, gave them a huge age gap. But no less, they were great friends. Canada kept urging Lawrence to help the others, since Canada himself was going to be alright. But no, Lawrence would be damned if he let his friend continue on injured, when he could have helped.

"Lawrence, you know I'm going to be fine, right?" Canada asked him. You see, the countries themselves were given a choice to fight or if they wanted to watch from the sidelines and make battle plans. Now Canada wasn't the type of person to like fighting, on the contrary actually, he tried avoiding it at all costs. But when it came to his people. Oh, he would do anything for them.

"Of course I know that! But that doesn't mean it's not gonna hurt!" He said in frustration.

From what Lawrence had told Canada, Canada knew that Lawrence had a family. A wife named Jennie of 13 years. A 10 year old daughter named Aileen, and a 7 year old son named Howard. He learnt that they lived in Montreal, Quebec. Aileen had braces on both her legs because she suffered from polio.

As Canada was about to respond, they heard multiple screams, ordering them to get down.

A shell. A bomb shell. The Germans were attacking. Before they could even react, they were hit. Multiple were killed on impact. One of the few survivors being Canada. He looked around, through the smoke, looking for survivors. Right when he heard a cough. A cough of someone struggling to hold on to their last breaths.

It was Lawrence. He was barely conscious. Canada quickly scrambled over to him. He was bleeding. And losing blood fast. Canada took off his coat to try and stop the blood. It did nothing. He saw his coat becoming more and more red. He scrambled in his pockets to see if he had anything to stop the blood. Nothing.

Quickly checked his fallen comrade's pocket, looking for anything of use. Nothing, except a small bear. A stuffed animal. But nothing of actual help to him. Lawrence was barely alive.

"Lawrence! Stay with me! Come on!" Canada said desperately. No response. He took off his gloves. He placed his two fingers on the side of Lawrence's neck. No... pulse. Bitterly he stood up.

 He decided that the bear was something he could take back to Lawrence's family. He placed the bear in his pocket and picked up his gun, and dived into the trenches.

Shooting here. Shooting there. Soldiers alike lying, dead. Canada couldn't bare to see it. He got behind cover, shooting occasionally. Eventually the Germans withdrew. That declared their semi victory. Their mission, to capture Passchendaele and The Ridge wasn't even accomplished. They were short of the village of Westrozebeke. All other attacks in late November and December failed as well. Earl Haig hoped to have captured Westrozebeke, to use as a winter position. Though they did manage to stop the Germans advancing.

The German counterattack caused many casualties. But the one to strike him the most was Lawrence. Not just because he was his friend. It was because Canada knew that he has a family back home. Lieutenant Lawrence Rogers had a family to go back to. A family waiting for him. And Canada had a strong feeling he was going to be the one to bring them the news. He remembered the bear in his pocket. He carefully took it out. 

A small brown bear. Muddy and tattered. Missing both is hind legs, along with its eyes. Cross-stitched for a mouth. As he walked into his tent and Lawrence's tent, he put the bear on Lawrence's bed. He saw a white envelope, lying gently on top of Lawrence's pillow. He picked up slowly. He decided on not reading it. Putting it back gently on the pillow, he left the tent. Sorrow was evident in the Canadian's eyes. Canada was left with the responsibility with counting the people who didn't return. He went through the list. His eyes scanned every name. He knew every one of these people.