13 Chapter: 13 Trench Fun

Turns out, when you are stationed at the western front of the deadliest conflict in human history, things can get dicey, rather quickly too.

"INCOMING!!!"

*BANG!*

An artillery shell came plummeting down into the Allied trenches, causing soldiers to stumble and fall as they tried to seek refuge in the mud. Helen found herself crouching knee-deep amidst muddy water with a peculiar red and brown object drifting past her... oh, well, it's a bloody arm!

"Y'all reckon someone done lost a darn hand, huh?"

Inquired Rita, now sporting an olive green overcoat instead of that nurse's getup. She plucked the arm out of the water and waved it into the air, chuckling as she did so. 

*RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT...*

*THUD-THUD-THUD*

The deafening sound of machinegun fire erupted nearby, bullets whizzed past, kicking up dirt and mud around them, and most of the bloody arm disintegrated, its remaining chunks flying over to the trench behind,

"Oi! Watch out fer that hand! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

Helen joined in on the nervous laughter that had just erupted around her, she felt the adrenaline receding and leaving behind a sack of bone and meat. But the joke didn't last long against the sound of bullets zipping over her head, kicking down mud into the trenches. 

"Keep your heads down!"

She shouted over the cacophony of gunfire, her voice barely audible amidst the chaos. Well, not like it was of any help to the poor girl laughing next to her... her brain matter got mixed in with the muddy water.

Rita turned to look at the dead girl with raised eyebrows before scooting away from Helen. 

The machinegun fire seemed to be coming from somewhere up their front, just like the artillery shells, and the sporadic rifle fire. But of course, the smoke clouding over the no-man's land made it difficult to pinpoint the source... or any source at all.

Forget about the bullets, it was the smell that got to her first. Charred meat, rotten bodies, and the pile of shit stacked against the wall didn't make it any better. Worse yet, it had been raining for about two days, the trenches were flooded and occasionally something surprisingly unpleasant swam around the soldier's legs. 

Helen tilted her large frame, settling her head in a shallow crevice of the trench's wall. It was a cozy enough place to rest one's head, as long as a crazy German didn't come charging their way, and best of all, it gave quite a clear view of the no-man's land.

She squinted through the smoke, searching for the source of machinegun fire, and spotted it, a volley of flashes before more mud came tumbling down on her head.

Suddenly, a guttural scream came from somewhere next to her. She pulled back her head and saw one of her men, one of the seven Private Millers, crumpled in the mud, blood visible on his uniform and that's about all she could make out on his mud-caked form.

"Medic!"

And stuffed her head back into the crevice, no point in scrambling around the guy. Chances were, he would die from the shock and blood loss in about, five seconds maybe? A couple of seconds give or take. If not, then he would die in a day or two, from the lack of proper medical treatment or infection or just about anything.

With that gloomy thought out of her mind, she stared out into the No-man's land

"He's gone."

What did she say? Five seconds. A couple more give or take. 

Something flickered in the smoke, perhaps it was a broken gun or shard of glass? Who cares! Still, she focused her eyes on it, and much to her surprise, it actually moved... well, lurched would be a better word perhaps. 

Then the smoke parted for a brief moment... why though? She looked up and sure enough, there it was, the rain of death.

"INCOMING!!!"

Shells rained along the trenches' lines, bombarding the soldiers with mud, fire, and shrapnel. A shower of mud came tumbling down on Helen's head, blinding her momentarily. With some luck and a little help from Rita, she managed to claw her head out of the crevice, taking a deep breath of the burning air.

With a gasp, she slumped to her knees, breathing heavily. It is not every day that a person barely survives being buried alive.

At first glance, her response to Miller's death may seem a bit apathetic compared to her unfortunate accident. But in Miller's case, it was death in five seconds or death in five days, while she still had some chances of surviving.

"Ye reckon keepin' yer head down ought to keep you alive till the end of the week!"

Grumbled Rita as she handed her a canteen of suspicious-looking liquid. 

Helen didn't bother checking, what's the worst it could be?

*GULP*

Well, what do you know? It was rum!

Army rum was potent stuff, and best of all, it kicked in almost immediately. At first, Helen only felt a bit light-headed, but that was common enough with the poisonous gas she was breathing in. It really started to kick in when nothing made sense anymore, her eyes began to dart around, slowly, clumsily, as if swimming in the ocean of thoughts. 

The first thing Rita heard when her ears stopped ringing was the sound of Helen snoring like a pig. Her head drooped to one side and a rifle in her hands.

"She's out!"

She grumbled, just what she needed, an officer out cold in the middle of a shelling. Not like she was all that much of a help when she was up, but her snoring like an oversized pig didn't help either. At least she wasn't stupid enough to get herself fragged, a couple of other officers tried the tea-drinker's method, fix bayonet and charge, with the marines. Safe to say there weren't all that much of them left.

*****

Helen blinked groggily, nothing made sense for a couple of seconds before everything did and everything was her doubling over and puking into a hole in the ground right next to her.

*BLURGH*

Not like there was much to puke anyway, just a couple of crackers and a nibble of chocolate. Calling it chocolate would be an overstatement, it was more like a brick and she had to use her bayonet to scrap off some of it into her mouth.

The shelling had stopped and the earth didn't rumble too much, there were still shouts in the distance, but they were lost to her. All she could make out was that she had a nice sleep and now it was back to reality again.

*BANG*

A rifle went off somewhere along the trench line and Helen looked around to see most of her men and women leaning against the wall, aiming for something.

"What's goin' on 'ere?"

Rita turned to her,

"Yer' up are ya? Missed all the fun when the shelling began from our side."

Well, watching a volley of shells fly overhead wasn't exactly the type of full she was looking forward to, but if the shelling from both sides had stopped, that could only mean one thing.

"Infantry Incoming!"

Shrieked a soldier somewhere in front of them and Helen took the liberty of peeking over the trench into the no-man's land.

A dark figure emerged from the smoke. Steel helmet, dark uniform, and a rusty bayonet, he was a German soldier alright, just casually picking up speed as he approached the trenches. For some reason, a couple of soldiers snickered, but all Helen could make out was Mr. Stabby McStabberson.

Helen groaned, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, big mistake, it had a slight metallic tang to it. So she did the next best thing,

*SPAT*

"What's with the hold-up?"

Usually, they would have pumped the imperial full of holes the moment they saw one running over the field. They were surprisingly tame today,

"Orders,"

Grumbled Rita as she aimed, fixing the iron sight on the approaching German,

"They reckon, best we let 'em get a mite closer 'fore we start lightin' 'em up."

Helen... didn't understand a word of the gibberish that Rita just said, but knowing the nurse/spy, it would be best if they went along with it. Or not.

She cursed under her breath, letting them get closer meant having to fight it out with whatever they had, unnecessary risk. Better to take them down at a good distance than to lose a couple of men and grapple in the trenches.

She scanned the no-man's land once more and sure enough, there appeared a couple dozen more Krauts, charging with bayonets fixed and god knows what utter mess in their heads. It won't do good to engage them in a melee,

"To hell with 'em orders,"

She shouted, takin' aim herself.

"Fire at will!"

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