Europe 1915
The shrieking sound of a whistle served as the long-awaited signal, rows of men in uniforms and Pimple hoods climbed out of their trench, running across the ravaged wasteland towards another one. Soon machine gun fire erupted out of that trench and hordes of men were dropping dead from gunshot wounds while others struggled to move through barbed wire.
One soldier threw himself into a nearby ditch to avoid the shooting.
He heard someone else drop into the ditch and stuttered "T..this machine gun is tearing us apart; we need to do something!"
No reply followed.
Confused by the silence he turned around only to be greeted with a blood stained corpse, riddled with holes lying face down in the mud.
The soldier slightly pocked his head out of the ditch to find a way out of his situation.
The machine gun was not too far away from his position. He slid back into the ditch, looking for something to throw.
His head fixated on a stick grenade near the corpse, partially buried in the mud.
He slid near the aforementioned grenade, carefully pulled it out of the mud as not to damage it and returned to his spot in the ditch. Taking a deep breath before pulling the cap on the bottom of the stick and throwing it towards the source of the gunshots.
There was a pregnant pause before a yell was heard, "GRENADE!" followed by an explosion.
The rattling of the machinegun ceased. More and more men arrived at the trench. The soldier quickly took the opportunity to run to the trench and open fire on the enemy, pointing his rifle at the nearest target and pulling the trigger. Again, he aimed at another target and repeated the process. After 3 more shots he ran out of ammo.
The enemy started to retreat; men began cheering, and the soldier was about to join them. However, a small whistle could be heard, the soldier looked to the sky.
"ARTILLERIE!" shouted someone else, the soldier closed his eyes, bracing himself for the upcoming impact.
Pain, his entire body was hurting as if he was just hit by a train. A pained groan escaped his lips as he lifted himself off the ground.
"Easy there, stranger" said an unknown voice.
The soldier gradually opened his eyes, being met with a man with orange hair and mustache, wearing a blue shirt with white arms and covered by a fur coat.
"You were quite roughed up when I found you, but you seem well enough."
The soldier slowly regained a clearer vision and could make out his environment.
Looking around he noticed that he was lying on some sheets next to a campfire to his surprise he also saw that he was in a snowy forest and that his backpack and marching gear was lying next to him.
His eyebrows furrowed at the sight, last he remembered it was not winter or cold enough for snow and how did his marching gear get here.
Questions in his head that only served to confuse him
He turned his head towards the stranger and asked.
"Danke das du mich gerettet hast, aber wie genau bin ich hier her gekommen?"
The stranger only gave him a puzzled look and replied, "I'm sorry but I can't understand a word that you are saying."
That is when he noticed that the stranger was speaking English, but he certainly didn't look like one of those Tommies.
"Who are you?"
The stranger quickly struck a heroic pose
"I am Tristan the mercenary, Hero of the northern border, protector of the weak and your savior".
He slowly started to get on his feet, dumbfounded by the sudden outburst of the mercenary.
"right… I am Fredrich but people just call me Fred." Fred began massaging his temple "So how exactly did you even manage to drag me out of the trench and bring me here. Last I remember there was no snow in sight."
Tristan looked confused "trench? I did not drag you anywhere I merely saved you from freezing to death when I found you here with your stuff."
"Are you serious" retorted the Fred even more confused than before "where even am I?"
"You my friend are in the forest near a village and as much as I love to chat. I still have business to attend to. I'm heading to said village you may join me if you wish."
Remained silent for a moment staring at the ground.
Staying in this forest won't bring him any answers as to where he is. Perhaps there was someone in the village that could send a telegram. With this thought in mind he nodded to Tristan, got up and gathered his belongings for the journey.