Banned
At first, his boots sank into a small patch of mud before he retrieved them and placed them upon the duckboards that were still intact. He had to hand it to the Imperial sappers, they'd done a really good job with building up the trench's infrastructure and foundation, so much so that the majority of it had survived the incursion. There was credit always to be handed out when it was due. Even some of the Officers in the Federation hadn't lied during their training days. Jean always remembered his Drill Sergeant going on and on about how the Federation soldiers had to use their might, mettle and mind to break down the superior technological advancements of the Imperial war machine. It was a scary thought at first, but now that it was here in practice he couldn't help but thank them for surviving the Federation bombardment prior to the charge. Behind him were Kalisa and Diana, obviously the latter being closer to him after her strange and yet strangely warming confession. He still didn't know how to react to it, as in reality Jean had eyes on both of the lasses in a way that he could not yet decide who truly would catch his heart. However, Jean was still in an awkward silence from the lashing out of Daniel, one that forced him to return with a horrifying realisation of their situation. His mood had collapsed before them all, and for Diana it definitely seemed like it was taking an affect on her.
He dwelt upon the thoughts that Middleton had forced into his system. Their mission was technically a success yet none of the official objectives were completed. Not a single piece of metallic trombones, ones that instead of shooting out the sweet symphonies of baritone brass they unleashed waves of destructive projectile dysfunction towards an adversary, had been found. There was nothing. No one was left alive to fully tell Middleton of where their artillery had gone, but it was clear that there were still some traces of the Imperial bombardment plans still left behind. None of them seemed to be in date, and some were simply scribbles of artillery bombarding the mountain, to which Staff Sergeant Baker imagined it was a memoir of the Federation cannonade only a day or two ago. A strange wisp and silence was left hanging in the air, wind now making the only accompaniment to the sharpish sludges of mud beneath Jean's boots and duckboards.
Jean quietly turned his head towards Kalisa and Diana, signing heavily before regaining his composition to speak once more. He felt bad for leaving the two beauties on a bad note from Jean's own retribution, and so he tried to make it up to them with his own words.
"I really must apologise. A...About what Daniel said, I think you should just ignore it and not dwell upon such tedious remarks as I, myself, will. Having you two suffer could be the single worst things this shitty Lance Corporal has to deal with." He pointed to himself with a sheepish thumb, half-smiling yet still feeling the damage of the realist's words. The Darcsen was taking his two new escorts towards Middleton's general direction, simply out of pure curiosity and lack of any decided route. It was a case of randomised walking, but to where they reached the midpoint of the trench, something strange caught Jean's ears and eyes off guard.
It was as if there was a...a shift, one that altered time, space and reality all around them. It was an instinct that let him feel slightly woozy at first, one that he could not fully explain just from its initial effect. He stumbled, falling back into Kalisa and Diana gently in a stagger. He didn't lose his footing nor did he fall over, but he froze in position, standing still with a concentrated face of worry and anxiety. From what his ears could pick up, there was nothing more than the whispers of the morning winds, slowly caressing themselves across the faces of all the soldiers and trench lines. A coarse underlining of the gale spoke in hoarse tongues, gruffly mentioning a name he could not know. In the thinnest distance, far from their reach, the gently tap of what could've been a bass drum kicked up. Once. Twice. Thrice. Bang. Bang. Bang. All the distant thumps were so gentle and light that there were barely noticeable to anyone who hadn't payed attention. Not even the soldiers around them, many of which who were still trying to calm their nerves or rest their aching arms and legs, seemed to notice these strange crescendos, ones that never made it apparent they were there. He wasn't surprised if Diana or Kalisa could hear it, or if anyone else he'd met so far could, but Jean knew for certain that he was hearing something.
Were they the war drums of a charging battalion, preparing to reclaim the hill they'd simply lost not too long ago? The thought of such an approaching incursion and skirmish left Jean gently unslinging the Longfield rifle from off of his shoulder and into his hands. His face was worried, almost traumatised. There was no telling if Diana nor the Darcsen could fully comprehend his action, but his preparation could've seemed worrying and almost pathetic to the outsider's view. There was no telling if he was simply traumatised from the previous engagement and charge, but he was certain something was up. Was it an orchestration of drums? Could it be? Or was it something else...something far more sinister?
Several more patters of beats could be heard in the distance, and then it came. For a few seconds, he heard it when his eyes and ears looked up into the damp and drizzling sky. A whistle, unlike any other, began to quickly crescendo. It held a high pitch, one higher than the wind itself, as it started to screech out loud. His eyes awoke quickly, and the unnamed soldiers around him suddenly noticed the squeal too. Jean was quick to act, quickly turning around as the incoming screech continued to squawk in immeasurable decibels. His eyes showed nothing more than the fear it had seen once before as his superstitions began to come alive. Those bumps, beats and thunderous claps of the unknown were now rendering themselves as the barrels of distant cannons, unleashing all that they had upon the recently captured hill. And the whistles that were descending and approaching from above? Why...they were the payload, returning the favour of the Federation taking their prize hill.
With hesitant eyes, Jean lunged forward, tackling both Kalisa and Diana to the floor without any gentle behaviour. Like before with the dead Sergeant's corpse, he reacted with instinct and sudden compassion for those around him as he pushed them into the mud, dragging him with them until they all hit the floor. With his arms, he held on to the top of their helmets, covering their faces with his forearm's sleeves and tucking them closely to conserve space. As they fell into the soil, he yelled out the worst uttering he had to since the war had taken its toll on him:
"S-Shit! Artillery, dig yourselves in!" When the three landed together onto the floor, the first impact suddenly went off not too far from their left. Its first collision came with a heavy thunderous screech before an eruption of electrifying noise and desolation suddenly shook the very foundations of the earth beneath them. Already, those who weren't quick enough to react to Jean's call to aid were caught in a state of panic. Jean had buried his two subordinates' heads into under his sleeves, but the only thing he had to cover his own vision was the rim of his helmet, to which it still left him vulnerable to the elements of destruction. Not too far to their left, only ten metres from where they'd previous argued with Daniel, a large shell slammed into the ground and blasted hundreds of small fragmentation all over. Those who were stood next to it, soldiers Jean hadn't seen or talked to before, were either flung into the sky with their limbs and blood flying all over the land or simply evaporated into the thinness of the air and sky. Their screams were shrouded with a thick smog and smoke that left after its landing, but that second shell didn't repent. Soon, more and more began to descend upon the Federation's position. Shell after shell, all landing in a slightly different place from the last, starting to cover the entire area in large vapour. Jean clenches his fists, tightening his grip on Kalisa and Diana's helmets upon their heads to almost tuck them in more. A body landed several feet away from them, thudding with their blood spraying out upon the cowering trio.
Jean felt the soldier's life spread and soak into his uniform. The blood was warm, still so very warm, and could be easily distinguished upon the cold and wet moist of the rainy day. His mind couldn't focus on such tragic rainclouds before more shells continued to pound the land. Again. And again. One. Two. Three. Four. Shouts and panicked screams continued again, this time somehow even more terrified than the charge had initially brought. Jean knew why. This time, there was not even a chance to fight back. These were already fired shells, raining upon them in a hellish demonstration of power, iron death and explosive compassion. Dirt and mud threw themselves high into the sky with every impact, creating almost artificial clouds shaped like devilish and poisonous toad stools. Unfamiliar voices were being cut off as a shell would land near them, peppering certain bodies with fire or fragmentation. It was quick, ruthless and brutal. No one stood a chance, it seemed, yet the lucky ones who'd dug themselves in particular spots seemed to detract the attention from the projectiles. Jean, Kalisa and Diana were all huddled together, held tightly by Jean's embrace of safety and almost paternal desire for protection. As each shell fell, he hoped that none of the bodies near them, nor the soldiers who were still alive, were those who'd been assaulted or shared conversation with Jean only moments before. It was hellish to think that everyone, including himself, had the chance to simply die here and now. There would be no pain. It would be instantaneous. No one would ever be able to say goodbye to him. Jean felt tears stream down his face once more as he grit his teeth in mental agony.
And then...The final shell fell. It landed just beyond the trench, towards the rear side. Jean was unlucky enough to lift his head out of the mud when the single shell fell, reminding him of the death it could cause as three separate men were all tossed into different directions, one of which without a head to even scream from. The gore and slaughter of the rain left him quiet, shivering whilst caught in the embrace of his protective intention. He wasn't sure if Kalisa nor Diana were even alive nor welcoming to his almost engulfing cover, or whether or not they'd been struck by some fragmentation themselves.
He raised his head up slightly more, watching the smoke still clearing from the trenches. There were screams of those who were still alive, likely without limbs or fully enclosed intestines within their stomachs, whilst others were simply coughing from the influx of smoke. It wasn't poisonous, this ridiculous air luckily, however it was definitely enough to force the wind out of their pipes and lungs. Jean looked in fear at the supposed soldier that had sprayed his blood upon the triage of cowering souls. His face was empty, colourless and devoid of life. It seemed that the artillery strike caught him so off guard he hadn't the second to even panic or discover he was breathing his final breaths. He slightly loosened his grip of Kalisa and Diana, knowing that if they wanted to move they could at least wriggle around to adjust their position after the rough landing in the mud.
Despite this, a suddenly few boosteps came from the smoke behind Jean, facing the two female's feet. They seemed heavy, clinking alongside the patronising noise of a ceremonial belt that had recently been scuffled by the remarks and bites of war. What a spoiling way to ruin such a glorious rendition of death and agony for Jean's mind, his arrival was. Middleton was not stood straight as such, and there was almost a combat ready stance to his posture, but he wasn't drawing any weapons of his own. He grabbed Diana and lifted her, simply leaving the two Darcsens to do so themselves, before letting her go to stand for herself without any needed support. There was slight urgency to his tone, one that showed that he too was somewhat caught off guard by the bombardment that shook the foundations of the platoon. He spoke in a course voice.
"Up and at them, lads. Get on your feet. We're returning to the rear lines back down the hill immediately. No hesitation. Move. That's an order. Lance Corporal, when you get to the bottom, wait for my arrival and I'll strike up a casualty count. I'll be the last one to leave this fucking trench, and you better bet that this platoon will not be gone for all I know. Now haul yourselves. Quickly!" And so, he left the two Darcsens to slowly crawl up to their feet. Once Diana, Jean and Kalisa were all arisen, Jean suddenly felt himself lunge forward again, this time however without any intention to push them over. With a strange sting in his fragile eyes once more, the Darcsen Lance Corporal wrapped his arms around both Kalisa and Diana, hugging them tightly as he suddenly breathed heavily with pressure and agony still seething from his lips. There was nothing more than mental stress upon his moralistic mind. Stress in itself was enough to break the poor fellow.
"T-Thank...thank the stars....we're...you two are okay. We're...we're alive." Jean wasn't sure if they'd even have appreciated his attempt at saving them, or whether or not they saw it as a useless attempt that changed no fate of theirs, but he was determined to share his gratitude with them being near for him to simply embrace in cold panic. His voice became frail once more as the wind had completely exited his lungs during the bombardment. He hadn't fully mustered a single respiratory inhale before he finally brought out those words, showing the two that for some strange reason he felt compassionate enough to announce his happiness for their survival. Although they were alive and breathing, Jean was still in complete shock and awe at the bodies nearby, trying his hardest to shield the two's eyes from the situation. Before long, he quickly turned around sporadically, unsure of what to do, before grabbing them both by the arms and hustling them forward through the trenches, through the thickened and bloody smoke, with the intentions of simply escaping. They had an order and this time it was one to finally run from the frontline. New troops were entering the trench and evacuating the dead and injured, whilst many new riflemen, machine gunners, mortars and sappers were reinforcing the frontline and preparing for what would be an apparent counter-attack if the Imperials committed to such an advancement. Jean was hopeful to get all three back, suddenly feeling a lust to not be left alone and cold in the miserable smother of the rain and blood upon their uniforms. His mind hoped for everyone, from Daniel to Michael, Isaac to Mimi, Lucia to even Britta...All of his mettle had shattered in false prayer that his comrades were alive, especially because they were on the path to becoming the greatest of allies. Once the trio scaled the trench walls and began to jog, or rather more of a staggered run, down the hill towards the safety of where they'd started that day off, he looked back at the two he'd dragged with him and almost imperishably called out for their reminders. "W-We're nearly there. Don't stop...we never stop. No one ever stops...Not Kalisa. Not Diana. Not me. We never stop. If we stop, we're as dead as our souls have already become!"
