Disclaimer- I forgot it in the last chapter: Hetalia: Axis Powers belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.

Author's Note: Hello, here is the next chapter of the Poppy Field. In this chapter, England reflects recent events with his siblings on the Western Front, such as the Battle of Champagne and the Christmas Truce.

I hope that you enjoy this chapter,

~Anonymous Lily

P.S: The names of the GB siblings:

Scotland- Alistair

Wales- Gwyneth

Chapter Eight: No Time for Celebration

Western Front, France, January 1915.

"Hey, Artie. Wake up."

Arthur's eyes snapped open immediately. The sky was still dark above him, the stars faintly glowing between the whisps of smoke and cloud. The concerned face of his elder sister, Gwyneth Kirkland, frowned back at him. The usually springy dark hair was plastered onto her bruised and scar-filled face, giving it the appearence of pondweed. In the daybreak, her grey eyes flickered back and forth with every murmur of the wind.

She was crouched just outside the enclave they had made into a bed. They hardly slept in it- or at all, what with the amount of time they had spent on the front line, holding the enemy back day after day. Eventually, they had been convinced to stop and take the night off by one of the men, back from their five-day rest.

Arthur felt a sharp sting on his collarbone as he sluggishly turned his head to better see his surroundings in all its' muddy and snow-encrusted glory. The trench had not changed overnight, and neither were there any signs of the enemy in his quarters, thank goodness.

That's a relief, at least, Arthur thought, The krauts haven't massacred my men while I was asleep.

Slowly, he sat up, almost bumping his head on the edge of his shelter. Arthur brushed himself down and reached for his gun.

"We're doing some more digging as soon as the other lads have got up." Gwyneth explained, stretching as much as she could safely without alerting the Germans that were awake, "Make sure everything works."

Arthur nodded, examining the different parts. "Did you get any letters from the others yet?"

The Welsh woman nodded, gesturing to a fistful of letters, "Alistair was part of the regiment that took part in the Christmas Truce. He got a bottle of whisky from some lad called Johann- the Scottish stuff. Oh, and Francis joined in a bit as well, although he wasn't in the best of moods, what with what's going on in Champagne. Anri's fine, but a little miffed at the whole affair, but then again who can blame her..."

"What about Jett and Bailey, or Lesedi and Inderpal? Are any from them?" Arthur interrupted, finishing his inspection.

Gwyneth shook her head. "Go get the others, would you? Someone's calling me."

Arthur nodded, hearing other men muttering in the reserve trench, watching their breath puff up like mist from their dry mouths.

"Get up, men. We've got work to do." Arthur commanded. One by one, the men pulled themselves up and looked about themselves, looking for something to fix.

The winter months had not been kind to any of his soldiers. With the arrival of the snow, it became harder to try and reinforce the trenches as the ground was either hardened by frost or reduced to icy mud that you could not walk on for a second without risking the fragile duckboards sinking beneath your feet, depending on where you were. During battles, it became even worse. Shells would tear at the land, leaving great craters where there was once trees or even people- not that the Germans cared what they did to the land.

The only thing seperating the two armies was No Man's Land- the very mention of the place made Arthur shiver. He had watched as soldier after soldier scrabble 'up top', bayonets pointed squarely at their enemy, only to be blasted with gunfire or otherwise scarred. It tore him up to see their haunted faces as they came back, shells of the vibrant and valiant souls that they once were, knowing that they will have to repeat themselves. For it was their duty: to defeat the Germans and drive them out of the land they had unlawfully taken from the French and Belgians.

"You there! Get up and help." an officer called, to what appeared to be a man leaning against the wall of the trench, before stalking off to address other stragglers.

Arthur frowned. Who was this person? Why weren't they doing their duty?

"Who are you? And what are you doing here?" Arthur asked. Alarmed, the soldier looked up.

His face was sallow and bony, with staring brown colours on his label indicated a private in the Welsh division. The most noticable thing about him was his leg, which had a large gash down the side, hining with the sheen of dried blood.

"My name is Charlie Black. I was left on the battlefield, sir. I got back yesterday and I didn't know what to do." He replied, his words slurring into each other.

He watched as 'Charlie' struggled to sit up. The gash began to ooze blood, the scarlet liquid dripping and mixing with the mud and wood below him. To his dismay, Arthur saw almost no medical officers close enough to summon.

This just shows how chaotic things are getting around here, I'll have to take the boy to the hospital myself!

"Christ!" he muttered to himself, before addressing the wounded combatant, "I'll escort you to the field hospital then. Come with me, Charlie."

Nodding, Arthur let Charlie support him as he walked through the narrow corridors that led away from the trench. All the while, Charlie tried his best to stay upbeat, putting on a brave face whenever Arthur looked his way.

"I think I see the hospital over there, sir." Charlie pointed with a shaky hand. Near the sparse trees that lined the front was a collection of ramshackle wooden buildings. Figures dashed from place to place, nurses in white and dusty blue; officers with glittering lapels and shiny boots.

Suddenly, the ground jolted and the silence was shattered with a sound as loud as thunder, like a thousand cannons firing at once.

What on earth... Arthur realised, They've got a new gun! I need to get him out of the way!

"Get down!" Arthur yelled, throwing himself down. In front of him, Charlie staggered before plummeting to the ground with a resounding cry of alarm.

"Charlie? Charlie!" he croaked.

But Charlie remained silent.

Author's Note: The Battle of Champagne was the first major attack by the Entente since the 'race to the sea'- when the allies were attempting to force an extensive German retreat and were stopped by the Germans digging in, which effectively ended with the beginning of trench warfare. It was mainly a French battle, but other regiments did their bit as well.

(On another note, seeing as how I am covering quite serious events, if you think something is off with my interpretation of events or you find something somewhat insensitive, do not be afraid to tell me.)

Thank you,

~Anonymous Lily