Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, it belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya.
Author's Note: Hello, and welcome to the next chapter of the Poppy Field. This is one of the older chapters I wrote before I published the first chapter, so there may be a slight difference in style.
Also, I am sorry for the late update, this was supposed to be uploaded on the 5th, but mock exams and other such things are getting in the way. Luckily, a little break is coming up soon, so there may be another chapter by then. Perhaps not. But don't worry, I am going to keep doing this for as long as I can.
As always, thank you for reading!
~Anonymous Lily
Chapter Eleven: Bully Beef and Dates
Another day at the trenches had begun for Jett Wilson and the Australian Brigades. The fierce Mediterranean sun viciously beat down on the faces and backs of the soldiers working like ants to reinforce the trenches battered by the latest attacks. Some had resorted to using bayonets to pin blankets above their trenches to create some shade, making the best use of what little they had. Beneath, some men slumped at the sides of the trench wall, trying to pick the endless hoards of lice off their skin or just sleeping.
Jett wiped his brow and paused, putting a sand bag on his knee. Man, this is hot weather to work in! At least back at home, you could get water and proper shelter!
Sniffing the air, Jett grimaced. The latrines must be full.
He sighed and packed the sandbag into the wall, the contents slipping and sliding within the Hessian sack. Next to him, one of the younger soldiers flickered a smile as he helped to protect the sandbags.
Jett grinned back. "You okay there?" he asked, nodding to him. The soldier shrugged, packing sandbags faster to make up for his brief distraction from his duty.
Just then, an older soldier by the name of Bill Sykes nudged Jett's shoulder, passing him a flask of fresh water.
"Here, pass this around to the lads," the Queenslander stated, "We don't need any more fainters, the medical team's overstreched already."
"Cheers," Jett replied, taking a small sip from the flask before offering the sandbag packer a drink. He shook his head.
If he listened closely, Jett could hear the soft voices of the Ottoman soldiers in their trench about fifty metres in front, a reminder that they were not alone by any means. He cast his mind back to earlier in the year, when Jett talked with his honorary brother Bailey about the army learning Turkish, so they could get information from the Ottoman's casual conversation.
Bailey dismissed it, saying it would be too expensive to run lessons or publish phrase books with all of the money going to weapons and such, but considered learning it anyway.
Anything to speed this war up would help, Jett thought.
It had been several months since his run-in with Inderpal and Hassan at Ismallia, which he had to admit, was a piece of cake compared to the horrors of this front. The moment ANZAC boots had touched the sand of Gallipoli, his men and dropped like flies. For days afterwards, Jett had been plagued with dreams of their final moments.
I don't blame anyone for not warning me about that, although it would have been nice. He contemplated, There would be no real way to prepare for it anyway.
From behind him, he heard someone emerge from under the makeshift shelters, a new soldier that probably came from one of the trenches further back. Clutching a can of bully beef in his dusty hand, the soldier cautiously glanced around.
"What are you doing with that can, mate?" Jett asked, turning around to face the new person.
"I heard from some of the lads in the back that if you throw the Mehmets* a can of bully beef, they will give you dates." he said.
"They're more likely to give us artillery fire than dates." muttered the other soldier despondently.
Who has been throwing bully beef to the Turks in the first place? Jett internally fumed, We are fighting against the Turks and people are giving our food to them?
"Don't do it," Jett warned, trying to hide his fear.
It was too late. The man hurled the can over the barrier, over no-man's-land, over the barbed wire of the Turkish trench and into the unknown. It clattered against something metal before falling into the opposing trench.
Instinctively, Jett grabbed the soldier who had thrown the can and dragged him under the canvas shelter and out of sight.
"What were you playing at, idiot!" Jett growled, "You're going to get us all killed!" The soldier flinched at the tone that the usually cheery man was using.
"Wait, Jett," another soldier interrupted, "Listen. They don't sound angry at all."
The trench silenced in anticipation. Soft muttering and the shuffling of feet chipped away at the silence like a dull knife on glass. Somewhere in the distance, an eagle screeched.
After what felt like hours, a Turkish soldier finally peeped over the edge of the trenches and waved to them. He did not seem like he was angry or upset, merely hesitant.
"Hello Johnnies." He called. All of the soldiers looked to Jett for guidance, but Jett had no way to respond.
"Here, have this." With that, he threw something over to the Australian side.
The object landed squarely on the lap of the sandbag layer, who froze in shock.
"...What is it?" Jett asked hesitantly, looking to the young soldier and back to the can thrower, who avoided his glance.
"It's... fruit," he sighed, a smile creeping onto his face. "Turns out he was right about the dates."
"Yeah," Jett replied, glancing at the can thrower with a mixture of disdain and respect, "For once."
*'Mehmet' was were name given to collectively refer to the Turks- 'Johnny' is the Australian equivalent.
Author's Note: This story was inspired by an account by Private Henry Barnes in the 4th Australian Brigade made in 1915, which I found in a book called 'Lest We Forget: Forgotten Voices from 1914-1945 by Max Arthur. It described a particular part of the Gallipoli from that was so close that the Turks and Australians would exchange bully beef and dates.
This was by no means true for all of the Gallipoli campaign. In the other trenches, the soldiers were fighting day and night.
The reason I wrote about this was because it stood out to me as a story and thought it would be interesting. I may write an Eastern front story soon- or perhaps I will focus on the home front of somewhere.
Thank you for reading!
~Anonymous Lily