Three days later
Although Eve's reassurance had calmed Wally down a little from the fear of his brother being killed in the battle at Ypres, it did not stop him worrying. Now he was spending more time asking officers that had been to the headquarters at the hospital on any news of the battle, each time either lightened, or brought more worry to him.
Well, it is better than hearing the news I'm scared of hearing the most. Wally had told himself last night after he spoke to Stanley who had just returned from the headquarters, this time with no news from Ypres, which brought Wally's fears rocketing the most.
Today, he was lying on his bed, staring hopelessly up at the dugout ceiling. There was no doubt that he was still worrying about Hal. It was as if he could see the fighting his brother was going through one now, the suffering he was experiencing, the friends he was losing through gunfire and shells, the torn up wasteland and the never ending barrages that were tearing up Ypres and the British trenches.
Wally sighed and rolled over onto his side so he was facing the wall, lost in his thoughts of what would happen if he was to receive the news he was dreading the most. He could only imagine it now, him going about his daily business and hearing from Stanley or some other officer that Hal had been killed, him breaking down. Then, it hit him. What about when the news of his brother's death hit home? He could imagine the pain and suffering they would go through when they heard one of their sons had died fighting in a war that was hopeless in all ways.
"Wally?" a voice from outside the dugout called.
Wally turned over and looked towards the dugout entrance just as captain Stanley entered. Wally sat up.
"What is it?" he asked. "H-have you got any news on Hal?"
"Yes," Stanley replied as he walked over to him.
Wally began to sweat. Both fear and happiness filled him, though only one of them would win the battle to take over his body when Stanley told him the news of his brother. His heart was beating madly like a drum against his chest. What was it going to be? What was it going to be?
Please don't say he's dead! Wally mentally pleaded. Please!
"Alright," Wally said, taking a deep breath and preparing himself for the news. "What is it? Just please tell me straight, don't hold back or anything,"
Stanley nodded. "I got word from a radioman who's serving up in Ypres near where your brother's serving about half an hour ago. He's okay,"
At first, Wally was unable to understand what Stanley had told him, but when he finally realised, the happiness inside him erupted like a volcano. So much he jumped up and let out a yell of happiness.
"YES! Oh, thank you, sir! Thank you!"
He grabbed Stanley's hand and shook it wildly. Stanley smiled.
"Anytime, Wally," he replied. "I'm glad I was able to help,"
"Yes, you helped a lot, sir," Wally told him. "Thank you again. I was so worried, I thought you were going to tell me he was dead,"
"Well, if I was, I would have told you straight, like you wanted me to," Stanley said. "But I also heard about something from one of the commanders. Don't worry, It's not about Hal. It's on something about a landing operation somewhere in Turkey. Oh, what's it called." He clicked his fingers several times and thought hard, trying to find the name of the place that was somewhere within his mind. "What is it? What is it?" he muttered several times before, finally. "Ah, I remember it now. Some place called Gallipoli,"
Meanwhile, on the other side of Europe
The Ottoman Empire of the Turks, the great Islamic force that once dominated an empire stretching from Persia to the Balkans including many countries like Egypt, Turkey, Palestine, Syria, Serbia, Bulgaria and Bosnia. However, the Ottoman Empire had been met with competition from rival major powers of Europe, who soon began to take advantage of the Empire's great size and began seizing It's territories. The British took Egypt and Mesopotamia (modern day Iraq) whilst Russia took lands on border with the Caucasus region, and, as if that was not bad enough for the Ottomans, the Balkans wars in the early 1910's made them lose almost the whole of the Balkans, save for the area of Istanbul, the capital of the Ottoman Empire.
For a while, it looked as though the Ottoman Empire would be safe from the horrors of war, but when Archduke Ferdinand had been killed even this great Empire which had had nothing to do with the relations between France, Russia, Germany and Austria Hungary, was not safe. In fact, Germany had been eyeing the Ottoman Empire for several years, hoping to look to them for aid in the event of war with the two powerful neighbours either side of Germany. However, when war had not been declared, the Germans, or even the Ottomans themselves, had not any attempt to fight on a third front against their enemies.
That was until October 1914.
A German battleship that had been chased across the Mediterranean by the British navy had taken refuge in Istanbul. The German captain took the opportunity to ask the Turks for their aid in the war and for help in repairing the damaged ship. The Turks, seeing a chance to reclaim their lost territories of Mesopotamia and Egypt, agreed and, thus, the Ottoman Empire was in the war on the side of Germany and Austria-Hungary.
Since then, the British had planned for a strike at the Turks that would quickly and decisively knock them out of the war. The channel that led to Istanbul, as it sat on the crossway between the Black Sea and the Mediterranean, was filled with mines so the only other quick way to Istanbul from the friendly side, which was near Greece, which had joined the Allies in the war, was the Gallipoli peninsula. Whoever controlled this controlled the route to Istanbul and the rest of the Ottoman Empire, as well as It's fate.
And today, the British and their Commonwealth nations, mainly comprising of India, Australia, New Zealand and Canada, and French and troops from their North African colonies, launched an invasion of the peninsula to take Istanbul and knock the Ottomans out of the war, something which they believed would be easy as they thought the Turkish defenders were weak and ill prepared.
Oh, how wrong they were.
In fact, when the first of the landings took place, the men were met with machine gun fire suffering heavy casualties. Although they had managed to gain ground and drive the Turkish armies back and inflict heavy casualties on their own army, the territory the Allies hoped to gain by the end of the day was still in Turkish hands. The entire operation, in a matter of hours, had turned into a disaster.
On a small rugged hill near the south west beach on the peninsula, known as W beach, a young man with blonde hair and dressed in an army tunic, trousers and boots crouched low, moving slow as bullets and shells flew all around him. He looked up from his position and saw the great fortress ahead of him. His name was Arthur from Cornwall. Behind him were four other men, a red haired young soldier of about twenty called Jack from London, an older soldier of about twenty nine from Liverpool called Aaron, a black haired soldier of about twenty three called Hugo also from London and a soldier of about nineteen from Birmingham called Jonathan. All four men behind Arthur were crouched low like him. All five of them had slightly wet uniforms from when they had to wade ashore in the disaster of the landing earlier on.
They were all part of the Lancashire Fusiliers and had been assigned to take the Turkish positions at the nicknamed W beach, which happened to be beneath an old fortress. However, when they had prepared to land, all of the men were leaving single file from the main ships to the landing craft and, what was worse, the Turkish defences were much more prepared then they had anticipated. Out of the around 200 strong soldiers that were to disembark first to the beach, only about 21 reached the beach, the rest falling victim to the Turkish machine gun defences in the fort.
Since then, the group of five men had fought their way up the cliffs to try and get to the fortress. They were not far from it now, but the building was across rugged terrain that was about twenty metres from where they were to the fort's entrance.
"Can ya' see any of the defend'rs, Arthur?" Hugo asked him.
Arthur looked out from behind the hill again quickly, but had to duck again as a bullet zipped over his head, narrowly missing it by a few inches.
"Yep," he replied. "Alright, listen, we need to get inta' that fort so we can get the rest of the army 'ere safely so we need three of us to stay 'ere and lay down covering fire whilst me and someone else runs forward to the fort. Who's staying?"
Hugo, Jonathan and Jack raised their hands. Arthur nodded
"Right, get ready," he ordered. "Aaron, up 'ere next to me,"
Aaron moved and crouched down next to Arthur whilst the other three men in the squad raised their rifles, preparing to fire on the Turkish defenders.
"Right, on three," Arthur said, taking a deep breath. He knew that this charge could cost him his life but it was in service of his country and, most importantly, to help the rest of the army break through the defences. "One… Two… THREE!"
Arthur and Aaron ran from behind the hill as Hugo, Jonathan and Jack fired at the fort to try and prevent the Turkish machine gunners from firing at their two comrades.
Arthur's heart was beating madly against his chest, not only just from the running but also from the fear of being fired at from the Turkish defenders, but he was getting closer to the fort. Just another ten metres…nine…eight…seven, almost there.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a Turkish soldier, aiming his rifle through the window of one of the guard houses of the fort, aiming it straight at them! It was a sniper!
"AARON, GET DOWN!" Arthur yelled, pushing his comrade to the ground as the Turkish soldier fired.
The bullet tore Arthur's chest and exited his side. Arthur collapsed onto his knees, gasping for breath, blood running down his hand as he touched the entry wound of the bullet. Then, looking up at the sky, as if he were looking at Heaven to accept his fate, he fell forward onto the ground.
His part in the war was over, but he was just another soldier, killed in action and forgotten in a wasteland akin to what the Allies were facing on the western front in France. More shells exploded around him and bullets zipped overhead, ready to take the lives of more men in this conflict.