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"I'll always be a prisoner of my past."

THEY BOTH FROZE, STARTLED BY THE SUDDEN NOISE

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THEY BOTH FROZE, STARTLED BY THE SUDDEN NOISE.

"The fuck is that?" Genevieve said. Shakily, she stood. She was so drained. Schofield stood too.The stood still, listening. In the distance, someone was singing. Someone who might be able to point them in the right direction.

They began to walk, frozen limbs forced, dragged, back to life. They look like the undead, clothes still wet and dirty. The singing grows louder.

"...there is no sickness, toil, nor danger" Sang the voice. "In that bright land to which I go..."

They pick their way through the thin trees, stumbling from fatigue. Before their eyes sat about two hundred men. Soldiers. British ones, finally. One stood in the middle, singing. His voice was like a lullaby as Genevieve and Schofield sank to the ground among the others.

"I'm going there to see my Father, And all my loved ones who've gone on."

Schofield leaned against a tree as they sat and wrapped an arm around Genevieve. They both closed their eyes as the sun rose higher in the sky. Rest.

"I'm only going over Jordan I'm only going over home."

The song finishes and there was a smattering of applause from the soldiers.

"D Company!" A captain called. "MOVE OUT!"

"You two alright?" A closer voice asked.

Genevieve opened her eyes. A few soldiers stood around looking down at them.

"Where are you from?" Another asked. More began to surround them.

"They probably got the wind up."

"Well he's not one of ours."

"Is that one a girl?"

"They're bloody soaked."

"Fuck it, let's just pick them up and take them with us."

"Have to find the Devons." Schofield said weakly.

"What's he saying?"

"What's that mate?"

"The Devons." Genevieve looked up and they all jumped.

"Bloody hell that is a girl!"

"We have to find the Devons." Genevieve said.

The soldiers all exchanged confused looks.

"...We're the Devons." One of them said.

Schofield and Genevieve looked at each other in shock. They made it.

"You're the Devons." Schofield repeated.

"Yes, Corp." One nodded.

"Why haven't you gone over?" Schofield asked.

"We're the second wave." Said another. "They don't send us all at once. We're D Company, we spent the night digging in. We go last. "

Genevieve stood. Were they too late? Schofield staggered to his feet. His hand went to his tunicpocket, to the envelope.

"Mackenzie." He said. "Where's Colonel Mackenzie?"

"He's down at the line." One replied.

"Which way?" Genevieve looked around.

"This way." Another pointed to the line of men moving. "We're headed up there now."

Schofield grabbed Genevieves hand and they took off down the line of men, shoving and pushing their way as the line of them winds out of the woods.

"Oy!" Someone shouts. "Steady on mates! Where you going?"

But they didn't answer. There was no time.

They along the comms trench, stumbling, weaving in and out of the advancing line of soldiers.

"Move!" Schofield practically pushed people out of the way as he ran. "Let us by! Move! Let us through!"

"Sco!" Genevieve pointed to a corporal standing a few feet away. Schofield grabbed him.

"Where's your commanding officer?" He demanded.

"He's in the holding pen." The corporal pointed and Genevieve and Schofield sprinted in that direction.

"Company, stand to!" The officer was shouting at the group of soldiers. "Now listen, and listen well!"

Schofield pushed his way through towards the officer. Genevieve lagged behind him a bit. She had her eyes open for agent Wilson. But this was her priority. The lives of thousands of men were on the line here.

"Sir," Schofield had reached the officer. "I have a message from General Erinmore!"

"Who the fuck are you?" The officer looked down at them.

"The attack has been called off." Schofield told him. "General Erinmore has called off the attack."

"Balls, man." The officer looked down at them, incredulous. "We're about to go over. We've got them on the run."

"You don't!" Genevieve exclaimed.

"Please." Schofield pleaded. "Don't send your men over. These are direct orders from Army command! Where is the Colonel Mackenzie?"

Schofield brandished his letter. It was still wet from the river, but somehow legible. He looked like a madman. Genevieve supposed that she did as well.

"Jesus Christ, man!" The officer spat at him. "Go and see the Captain!"

The officer shoved Schofield away. They staggered on, pushing out of the holding area and into the trenches. Genevieve could tell that his trench is hastily dug. Little more than a temporary berm, perhaps five feet high and way too crowded. Hundreds of men crouched just inside the trench wall, waiting, preparing. If They didn't find Mackenzie soon, all these men would be walking into a trap.

"Sections 9 and 10 at the ready!" They spotted a sergeant a little ways down the trench and hurried over. "We will advance on the first whistle blast!"

"Sir!" Genevieve called out to him. But her voice was muffled by all the noise around them.

"You must not slow down!" the sergeant continued. "If the man next to you falls, keep moving! Your orders are to break the lines."

"Where is the Captain?" Schofield had reached him first, shouting over the noise.

The sergeant nodded over to the captain, or what should have been the captain. He was crying, head bowed, muttering to himself.

"Sir?" Schofield got to eye level with him. "Sir! Captain, I have a message. This attack is called off. You have to stop, you have to stop-"

Before he can say any more, the air seems to tremble. Soldiers pressed themselves into the walls of the trench, taking cover wherever they could. The earth groaned as the shells landed, pounding the earth all around.

"Where is Colonel Mackenzie?" Schofield shouted to the captain, but got no answer, only crying. "Where is Mackenzie?"

"Forget him!" Genevieve yelled to Schofield. "This isn't helping us! Keep going!"

They moved faster through the line now as men crouch and contort themselves low. Explosions and gunshots sounded every second, making Genevieve's ears ring. Schofield looked behind every few seconds, just making sure she was still there. She stumbled over debris and felt a familiar hand grab hers, pulling her back up. The trench was getting thinner, making it harder to fight through the men now.

They were running out of space, running out of time.

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