Pasha looked around with a start, Jacqui was beside her, but they weren't in the comfortable and familiar surroundings of their flat, there was considerably more mud and squalor for that. Both were dressed in full length skirts with starched aprons and hats with red crosses emblazoned across their chests. Something screamed overhead with a banshee howl to land half a mile away with a massive explosion, sending mud high into the grey sky. A salvo of a dozen more flew over to set up a steady drumbeat of noise.
A khaki clad arm grabbed each girl by their collars, and they found themselves thrust into a deep trench to land on a wooden walkway at the bottom, a squelch of muddy water squirting up to greet them.
"Stay down here if you don't want you pretty heads shot off ladies" their rescuer explained. "Stand up there and Jerry will send a packet to spoil your looks."
He went on, "Come on, I'll show you where you're headed" and turned to set off along the trench at a sharp pace.
With a confused look to each other the girls followed, flinching involuntarily with each explosion, the stench of badly washed bodies, cigarettes, gun smoke, and decay filled the air around them. To one side as they walked was a step up that allowed watchkeepers to look through periscopes over the edge of the trench, the other side were occasional dugouts with resting soldiers who sent a flurry of whistles and declarations of love as the girls hurried by.
The trench didn't run straight for more than ten yards at a time and as they rounded a sharp corner a voice called out to them. "Ladies, we've arrived." Their guide was standing just inside a dugout, beckoning them in. A tall man with gold braid on his hat and red tabs on his jacket sat at a desk in the middle of the room.
"Right, now you're here we can get going" he announced, the confused looks on the girls faces made him hesitate. "You do know why you're here? Do you? Hmmm?" he rolled his eyes. "Oh good lord, do you even speak english?" he addressed this to Pasha, speaking loudly and slowly. "I Said DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH? Hm? YOU SPEAKEE ENGLISH?"
"Yes of course I speak English you muppet, I'm from fucking Leicester." She spat back at him.
"You'll keep a civil tongue in your head if you know what's good for you and remember how to speak to your betters. No, enough, " he held up a gloved hand as an angry retort came to Pasha's lips. "You two are here to escort an injured prisoner back to GHQ for trial and execution. Corporal Simmonds here will take you to him where you will assist Major Hardacre in declaring him fit for trial then with an armed escort you will take him away. Understand? Hm?"
Jacqui sarcastically asked, "Why bother with a trial, you've already scheduled the execution?" The tall officer seemed oblivious to sarcasm and responded, "Kings regulations, every guilty man is entitled to a fair trial. Now if you two nurses can be about your business we can be rid of this unpleasantness as soon as possible."
Jacqui bridled, "I'm not a nurse, I'm studying for my Doctorate" but he seemed not to comprehend the difference between "Doctor" and "Doctorate" and just waved her away, "Yes, yes, so you're a trainee doctor, you can still assist. Corporal Simmonds, take them away."
A shout of "Sir, yes Sir," followed by a stamped foot answered his call and they found themselves being hurried down the trench again until they reached a dugout with two heavily built soldiers standing outside, each had an armband with "REGT POL" embroidered on it and red peaks to their hats. Corporal Simmonds stood outside and indicated they should go in.
A harried looking Major was bent over a figure in the bed, Pasha gave a polite cough causing him to turn around and greet them. Ladies, glad you're here. Can you check the patient's heart rate and temperature then I can sign him over to GHQ"
Jacqui stood, transfixed. "Alan, what are you... How did... It's you isn't it?"
Major Hardacre looked at her in surprise, "How do you know my first name? Have we met?"
Jacqui gasped," Alan, it's me, it's Jacqui. What's going on?"
Hardacre gave her a stare, "It's true my wife is called Jacqueline, and at moments of intimacy I call her Jacqui, and you do bear a passing resemblance, but I'll not be party to your foolishness. Now check his pulse will you?"
Pasha stepped forward to take the man's wrist, he grabbed her with his other hand and gave a hiss, "So, you're here are you? Both of yer? Good, it's all working." She gave a little squeal and pulled her arm away, one of the burly Regimental Policemen ran in and gave the prisoner a sharp jab in the ribs, screaming "Stand down you piece of shite," then turned to Jacqui and apologised for letting him get familiar with her servant. Pasha gave a look that could freeze lava as Jacqui explained that she was in fact the higher qualified person, with an actual nursing degree whereas Jacqui had her first aid badge from when she was a Girl Guide, muttering "You racist prick" under her breath as she finished.
Pasha confirmed the pulse as sixty-two beats per minute, his temperature was spot on 98.6 and his blood pressure was a hundred and fifteen over seventy, so well within acceptable ranges.
"I knew it, you're malingering on top of everything else."
Major Hardacre shouted to the Regimental Policemen, "Corporal Lane, he's fit to be moved. Do your duty."
The two RPs came in and lifted the prisoner roughly out of the bed he was languishing in, he slipped on his unlaced boots and sauntered towards the door. Corporal Simmonds blocked his exit, his rifle held ready to use as a club rather than to shoot but it stopped him just the same. A squad of half a dozen armed soldiers were standing outside the dugout, the prisoner settled in the middle and the two Regimental Policemen took up positions at the front and rear of the group. The Doctor pointed out of the door, "Well go on girls. Follow them."
The mixed group made its way back along the wooden duck boards for what felt like a couple of miles, eventually reaching an area of relative peace from the incessant shelling. A set of steps led up and out onto a cratered field with a sunken road leading off towards a ruined village. A horse drawn wagon waited for them with four more armed soldiers standing alongside. Corporal Simmonds and his men handed the prisoner over, turned around and went back to the squalor of the frontline.
The girls and the prisoner were helped into the back, two of the soldiers joined them with the other two climbing up to the front. The Regimental Police jumped into the back as well, giving a call of "Move on" as they sat down.
The wagon had been moving for around twenty minutes, Jacqui and Pasha had their heads together and whispered desperately, "What the actual fuck is happening? Am I dreaming?"
The prisoner gave a sly laugh, "Oh no, girls. It's more than a dream." He reached over and pinched each of them, both squealed in discomfort, prompting one of the RPs to reach over and cuff him in the side of the head.
"You keep your stinking hands to yourself son." He admonished. The prisoner just laughed again, "Not long now mister. It's June nineteen fifteen, I've got ages yet. You however,"
The Policeman stood again and balled a fist, "Yeah, we'll see what you say with no bleedin' tee.."
They were sufficiently far from the front line that the sounds of artillery were a dull rumble so the rifle shot sounded loud enough to shock the girls and make most of the soldiers come to alert. Most but not all. The standing RP's head burst open like a ripe melon in a fountain of blood and brains before he could finish his threat.
The two girls screamed as the gore that used to be the soldier's head sprayed over them, staining their starched white aprons crimson. The Prisoner grabbed them both and threw them onto the floor of the wagon, joining them there and pulling the corpse on top as a rudimentary shield.
The four riflemen were staring outwards, searching for the sniper over the iron sights of their weapons, the second Regimental Policeman had his Webley revolver in his hand and jumped out of the rear of the cart.
A staccato burst from a machine gun cut him almost in two, falling shattered into the dusty track where his blood turned the ground black. Three more rifle shots rang out, seemingly from both sides of the road, taking one soldier in the throat, and another through the heart. The third bullet missed as the one shot in the throat collapsed into the footwell, gurgling wordlessly as his life seeped away.
One of the two remaining soldiers snapped off a shot back then a second and a third in quick succession, the empty cases bouncing off the seats, one landed on the back of Jacqui's hand, burning her and adding to her screams of panic and fear. He gave a shout of exultation, "Got one," but it was short lived.
The deep bark of the machine gun cut in again and the shooting soldier disintegrated as six.303 bullets sliced through his torso. Only one was left, cowering down trying to make himself as small as possible. The prisoner reached out to one of the dead soldiers and helped himself to the bayonet hanging from the dead man's belt. Standing over the whimpering boy who could not have been much beyond eighteen he smiled, but there was no kindness or humour in his face.
"Miss your mummy do yer, boy?" The soldier was almost catatonic with fear, the prisoner taunted him "I'll say hello when I fuck her up the arse." Then drove the bayonet through his neck, severing the spinal cord, leaving him wide eyed and terrified in death, as he had been in life.
A whistle split the now silent air. The prisoner gave a corresponding answer. Half a dozen scruffy, wild looking men appeared around the wagon, wearing a mixture of British, French and German uniforms. They looked up at the wagon, the prisoner reached down and dragged up the two terrified blood-stained girls and received a ragged cheer from the assembly.
A shove in their backs sent the two girls out of the back to land in a heap next to the leaking corpse of the RP, clinging to each other for support they tried to back away but found their way blocked by the wagon.
The newcomers loaded the dead bodies onto the wooden boards, including one of their own, poured a gallon of petrol over it and threw in a match. A 'Whoomph" sounded as the pyre went up, then the motley group headed away, towards the ruined village.
The former prisoner was in good spirits, "I knew you'd come for me, once I got word I'd have these two ter play with. We should make some good money out o' them once we've had our fun."
Pasha and Jacqui's hearts sank when they heard what lay in store, he walked alongside and explained. "See, when I get blown up and my picture gets saved I swore my revenge on Brigadier the Honourable bastard Lord Aubrey Fuckin' Hinshelwood and his descendants. You my girl," he poked Jacqui in the left breast, "Your great great grandmother was a kitchen maid at Hinshelwood Manor in eighteen ninety two, when Lord Aubrey-Hinshelwood was having his way with all the girls that worked there, when she fell pregnant he sent her away, she ended up in Exeter, about as far away from him as possible, and you," he poked Pasha's right breast, "Your great grandmother was his personal bedroom servant in Rawalpindi in twenty two, she never told her husband it was his Lordship's baby but I knew. It took me a lot of effort, pushing here and nudging there to get you two together and now here we all are."
With that they arrived at a bombed-out house, the roof was completely gone, none of the windows had any glass and the doors were all blasted off their hinges, but the ground floor was semi serviceable, the empty windows had thick blankets covering them, there was furniture of sorts and oil lamps around to give some light in the dingy interior.
