War had ripped through almost every single town Bash and his platoon passed through. There was no longer any life visible in the rubble, just emptied houses, ransacked shops and... unfortunately, a visible display of the death and despair.

The first one they all saw made a few of them chuck up the contents of their stomachs.

None of them had been expecting it, they were all told the area they were walking through had been relatively untouched by war, but boy was that wrong.

Charlie had seemed to take seeing a dead body the worst. From the second his eyes graced upon a poor girl; maybe a year older than he was, with eyes open but drained of life, his face never really returned to its full pinkish hue. There had been tales that a solider never forgot their first dead body, but usually it was the one they took down themselves, but for Charlie- he was surely never going to forget that poor girl.

"War moves quick, the little bitch." Jimmy Dawson muttered to himself, eyes focused on the path ahead.

They were a long ways away from their final destination, all still walking in the same formation they had been doing for almost a day now.

Charlie was further towards the back than Bash was, but it was his duty to make sure everyone in the platoon was as alright as they could be - all things considering. So, what bash decided to do was slow down his march (after telling the two men he was closest to as to why), and began to try and fall in line with him.

It didn't take too long before Bash and Charlie were walking shoulder to shoulder.

His face still looked... peaky, to say the least.

"Guess it's too late to ask if I can go home now, ain't it?" Charlie's voice came out as a meek whisper, nearing towards more of a squeak.

"Fraid' so, Charlie. But, we're all in the same boat, and you know you don't have to keep your thoughts in your head. You'll explode." Bash replied, nudging the younger bloke with his elbow, not wanting to push the youngsters mind into overdrive all while explaining that not a single one of the men there were in it alone.

If they were truly alone, well... Bash knew he himself wouldn't have survived the passing alone.

For a moment, Charlie's face was suddenly replaced with a pouting Finns. It plucked at Bash's heartstrings, as if playing one of Beethovens symphonies. Giving Bash an unwavering (though albeit momentary)  sense of doubt, Bash wanted nothing more but to give his youngest brother a hug. Maybe even read him one more bed time story.

"I'm scared-" Charlie started, almost choking on his words.

Truth be told, Bash was too, but being scared for him meant making mistakes which could lead to the men who entrusted him to protect them, to perish under enemy fire - and that weighing in someone's conscious would do wonders to suffocate them.

"I'm scared too, Charlie." Bash replied, rather quickly but instead of being allowed to continue with his spiel, he was cut off by Jimmy Dawson and Thomas Arthur, who both shared a slice of humility with the group.

"I think we all are, kid."

Originally, the group were supposed to be heading towards Hulluch, but a week; if that, before they had touched down on foreign soil, there had been a gas attack from the Germans against the British, meaning not only were both sides losing members of their forces to bullets but now the after effects of these gases.

The first gas attack was closely followed by a bombardment of artillery fire, the Germans managing to knock off a couple hundred - maybe close to a thousand, troops from both Scotland and Ireland were almost - as bad as the term was, dropping like flies.

"Where are we going? I mean, I don't have no map so I can't look for it, but I just like knowing." Jimmy asked, knowing that they weren't headed for the original location.

He was smart enough to know the calculating cogs turning in Bash's brain were something a little more than just re-wiring the way he saw things.

They tried again, not even two days later, but luck was on the British side this time, and the change in wind meant the plumes of gas meant to hinder them, was sent straight back to the Germans, an almost equal amount of damage had been caused.

Bash thought of it as payback, but it did mean they were quite a few thousand feet off of their new course.

They were now heading to Fromelles, in the more northern region of France, closer to the Dutch border - a little closer to the front line than Bash originally had wanted but it was where they were all sent to, even men from other battalions, divisions, districts. Whoever was mobile enough, had been rerouted.

"Fromelles. Don't ask if I said it right, I haven't got a clue."

Or so he had guessed from the other British troops he had spotted ever so briefly when he went off course to take a somewhat private break a little further in the tree line than planned.

"And we're going with the Aussies?" Charlie added in, noticing they had gathered a few extra men in the process.

The 5th Australian Division had long since tagged along with the men from the Midlands, there were also rumours of another division from the South Midlands being involved in whatever was planned, but Bash didn't want to get his hopes up.

Knowing that if one of his brothers was involved, he'd be unable to think clearly about his men.

But knowing there was an incoming attack in Somme, they'd be saving their best for that. Bash knew his brothers were the best for any situation but war wasn't exactly something that crossed his mind whilst he had originally thought that.

"Alright, Boss. Who do I speak to, in terms of who's in charge?" An Australian accent asked, rather boisterously - something the English men hadn't expected.

Especially not in the middle of a war zone.

Bash stood forward, his understated demeanour had the man second guessing him but then he noticed the stripes on his arms were different from those around.

He was of higher ranking than most English men he had come across.

"Lieutenant Shelby, Ay?"

Bash nodded, extending a hand towards the taller male, a brief smile graced his face before falling straight back off.

"Major General McCay, I'm assuming?"

Bash too could read military uniforms.

"Look, I'm not trying to stomp on any toes, but do you know why exactly we've all been diverted to somewhere that's already seen conflict - a little more than a year ago?" The Aussie asked, leaving the Shelby man perplexed.

No, he didn't know. How was he supposed to know? He might've been a gypsy boy but he wasn't a mind reader and he certainly couldn't read tea-leaves.

"We all just go where the big boss tells us too. Not trying to get myself on the front line just yet, so I'd rather not complain."

Silence fell upon the newly formed; rather uncomfortably large, group of men. Bash said nothing more, Charlie looked like he was ready to chuck up what he had drank and the Aussie man looked like he was ready to go back to home.

Maybe Bash should've been nicer but it was hard to be nice given the circumstances.

"We've got your back, little man." The Australian added, breaking the tension with a slight height jab at Bash. "Don't you worry."

"Don't worry, one of us will shine your bald head when it's all over, make it gleam like the medals we'll all receive." Bash replied straight back, a sarcastic smile gracing his face.

"He's got brothers, General. Don't think he can turn it off." Thomas Arthur; the newly minted mediator, butted in, and the Major General nodded in acknowledgement.

Once someone has brothers, losing the ability to bite back with a quick-witted comeback was hard. But, having brothers be so far away and in the same circumstances as he was, now that was even harder.

"How many?"

Bash didn't even wait for a moment before the word four shot out of his mouth like a bullet from a freshly oiled rifle.

He had four brothers who he was going home to, whether that be in a few weeks, or a few years.

He would make it back from Fromelles.

He had to, for Finn, for Ada, for Charlie Burton for Pete's sake! The boy shouldn't have signed up yet he was too young, Bash would make sure he got home.

No matter what.