It had been an hour since Lieutenant Broughton had arrived in the reserve trenches. News of his transfer from the 100th Winnipeg Grenadiers was merely a surprise for him. After all, his men were fighting on the frontlines and possibly dying in droves of No Man's Land.
He turned around the corner to see a cook having his great pot ready for those who were present. This time, it was for three men from Great Britain. One of them turned his head to the Canadian and smiled.
"Good morning, lad." The Scottish captain waved at the young man from the back of the line. "Me and my officers are trying to get our first share before the rest of the lads from my unit arrive here." Captain Ivor, a Scottish officer in the ranks of the British Army.
"What regiment are you from?" Lieutenant Broughton began. "I didn't ask yesterday."
"Oh me-I'm from the 15th Infantry Division." Answered Captain Ivor. "Did my lot do something?"
"No not at all. I just want to know who is up for cards." Replied the lieutenant. "I just want to meet with the commanding officer."
"I see, well you have my permission to keep my men busy." Then the captain turned his attention towards the cook who quickly finished spilling the hot soup into their containers.
As the lieutenant joined the captain, there was the clanking of metal meeting metal which caused the British and the Canadian officers turning their heads behind their backs. They were met with a French corporal who brought his food tray with him. He was followed by dozens of French soldiers.
"Hey, I know the lad. He's from the 73rd Infantry Regiment." Captain Ivor commented. "What are you doing here?"
"I was bringing my men for their morning meal." His thick French accent and his blue trench uniform was enough to distinguish himself from those who were more familiar with the English language.
In the eyes of Lieutenant Broughton, he found the color scheme of the French uniforms to be a great target for German soldiers. Compared to the shattered landscape of brown, the blue uniforms contrasted with this fact. Though he couldn't blame the soldiers for wearing a target for a uniform, it was standard issued by the French Army. That was an issue which should be taken to logistics.
The French officer stepped forward and met with the Canadian lieutenant. He gave out his hand and easily smiled.
"Lieutenant Pierre, its good to meet a Canadian for the first time." Broughton returned the gesture to him.
"Likewise." Both hands shook together before Canadian began to make his way back to the cook who finished pouring a ladle of soup into the container of Captain Ivor.
Days had passed since Lieutenant Broughton and his men were transferred out of the trenches. A relief really, to escape small spaces where a small look over the top would get a man dead. No more artillery shells screaming through the night, no more rats to harass him in his sleep and eat his meals, and there was no need to be paranoid in the night. A great perk about his transfer from the trenches, there was the sight of women and girls who passed by him. He knew French since he was a Canadian, but it was funny to see how the French people reacted when he spoke the language.
Then military matters entered his mind with the thoughts of who could have possibly taken interest in a soldier like him. After all, the lieutenant didn't do any actions which could simply distinguish himself among the rest of his peers. Yet, he was ordered to the headquarters of the British Expeditionary Forces on the Western Front, Montreuil.
Lieutenant Broughton walked into the premises of the headquarters as he observed around to see there were many more soldiers from Britain, Canada, and including the French soldiers. It was a strange sight really, being called in by the commanders themselves for a matter he honestly knew very little about. All he did know was that he was selected to be transferred into a unit which was incredibly different from ones on the frontlines and the trenches.
As he entered the premises on his own accord, he saw the man who oversaw all of the British forces, General Haig. Many men stood in front of him, despite of their differing nationalities, they all stood at attention to respect the officer in uniform.
The general was old, it was a fact the lieutenant knew. The general's hair showed a partial sight of aging while Haig's mustache could completely cover his entire mouth if he sought it out. From beside the general to all around the premises, there were British guards who were ready to ensure this entire matter didn't go south if the soldiers were hostile.
"My fellow countrymen, Canadians, and our French allies." General Haig began while Broughton moved up as many more soldiers began to close the small gaps in front of the general. "I am here to announce that the Huns have brought their forces from the Eastern Front onto ours. French intelligence does not know the exact numbers, but they reveal they are significant enough to change the frontlines."
The old man had stated as the lieutenant observed his fellow soldiers who seemed discontent with the revelation of the German's troop movements.
"However, they have not done so." General Haig continued. "Rather than spend men on trying to take lost ground, they have developed the technology to go back into time. Knowing this, they will all attempt to go back through time to defeat us from the beginning." There was no cheer for such a great discovery. Such enthusiasm was lost on the first few years of the war. Nothing seemed to matter other than killing the Germans and ensure they didn't gain an inch of ground. That was a fact on every mind of a soldier who lived in the trenches. "Yet, we too have the means to go back through time." It peaked the interest of every man's mind. After all, time travel seemed like an absurd idea and who would want to change back time. "The French have managed to make their own and you are all here to wage a time war if you wish to call it, on the Germans. Our mission is to ensure that the Germans do not change the course of the war in their favor. If they do, the fate of the Entente will be in great peril and the fate of the world will drastically change."
"Aye lad, I didn't know you were going to be here." A familiar voice spoke beside Broughton as he turned his head to see a friendly face. "Looks like I'm not the only one here."
"Captain Ivor, I didn't expect you either." The lieutenant commented. "Ever wonder what Haig is going to do with us when we time travel?"
"My best guess is the same as yours." Captain Ivor answered with a shrug on his shoulders. "Though if it beats fighting the rats in the dark I'm fine with it."
"I guess we're lucky we don't have to worry about the Germans shelling us."
"Yes we bloody are."
The French were in full retreat after they were immediately surprised by the Burgundian army which had ambushed them. The rear guard was sent to hold out against the enemy forces while the rest would escape from the scene.
As the battle lines held, the men at arms readied their spears while their commander stood from behind the lines. However, it surprised everyone that their commander was willing to sacrifice herself for the sake of her fellow men as the Burgundian army began to make their way across the fields.
"Hold!" She ordered to her soldiers. The rear guard held their line as the sight of the enemy's sergeants continued to march towards her lines. While they gained ground, Joan of Arc looked up from above the heads of the infantry with the rain of arrows coming down from above. "Brace yourselves!"
Joan raised her shield to the skies as she saw the arrows come down on the rear guard. Those with shields protected themselves from the projectiles making their way through the ranks. Those who were unlucky enough to expose themselves fell victim with the arrowheads penetrating their armor. Those who were caught in the storm had cried from the pain and agony.
The commander lowered her shield and saw the sight of Burgundy's cavalry flying past their infantry. Then she took notice of her men still recovering from the hail of arrows.
"Draw your weapons!" Immediately, Joan pulled out her sword as the French soldiers recovered from the arrows. However, the cavalry had already arrived. Then the two sides clashed with one another.
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