"Urghh", the two groaned. They felt like if they were punched in their stomachs.
They were immediately assaulted with the stench of waste and the dead, causing them to puke.
The St Gloriana students landed on the trench floor, collapsing on the ground.
They managed to hold in their stomachs despite the putrid stench.
"What the hell was that?", inquired the American.
"Best case scenario, a gas victim, worst case, a lead up to an ambush". Replied Louie.
"I hope it's a gas victim", continuing Fred, pumping his trench gun.
"ShOtGuNs ArE CrUeL AnD InHuMaNe", mocked James, "and yet, they use gas on us".
"Sacre Bleu! I must have drank too much Pinard!", shouted Pierre.
The men viewed the spectacle, two girls dressed in blue uniforms with skirts lay on the trench floor.
They lay in front of a pool of vomit.
"Frankly, from what we've seen in this hellhole of a war, I am not surprised". Stated James.
"Let's just drag em into our dugout and let them wake". Suggested Louie.
They dragged them into their dugout and draped some blankets over them.
"Ohh my head, where are we?", asked Pekoe.
The trio looked around. They were in the trench but it looked less decayed and more fresh.
They heard the thumps of boots.