June 28, 1916

The rain had been in a constant downpour for several days. It was near impossible to stay dry in the open trenches, currently occupied by restless soldiers awaiting relief. The 38th Division was acting as a reserve force until the 7th Division would move in tonight to prepare for the assault tomorrow morning. The 38th would not be moving in straight away, as they would be part of the third wave and lend assistance to the 7th's assault on Mametz.

Starting on the 24th, the artillery began their bombardment of the German lines. It was perhaps the most tremendous cannonade Arthur had ever heard; the usual cacophony of artillery now sounded like a symphony, the patterning so precise and meticulous and constant it was the only fair way to describe it. He scribbled in his journal once more in a vain attempt to block out the noise, keeping it close to him so that the others would not be privvy.

"Oi, Bed," Lucan said as he elbowed Bedivere, who had (somehow) managed to fall asleep during the constant sound of artillery firing and striking the ground ahead of them. Needless to say, his miraculous sleep had been interrupted by his younger brother.

"Jesus, man," Bedivere complained, "What's the problem?"

"How on Earth do you sleep during all this, anyway?" Lucan asked, "I mean, really, because I want to know how so I can sleep too."

"You woke me up for that?" Bedivere complained before sighing, then said, "I make it white noise in my head. Worked at all those Bridgend Street matches we went to."

"Seriously?" Lucan inquired, incredulous, "You can take, what, a million shells and say it's 'white noise?'"

"Try two million, based on the rate of fire," Bedivere told him, "By my reckoning, the number of shells we hear every minute, after factoring the time it takes to aim, load, fire, and reload, plus the cooldown time for overheated guns, and the general consistent timing of the firing, we are firing... approximately 200 shells every minute, which makes about 12,500 shells every hour, 24 hours in a day is around 300k shells, and the bombing started on Saturday, so... yeah. 1.5 million shells so far."

Everyone who was still awake in the trench just looked astounded at the numbers Bedivere had running in his head.

"Christ Almighty," Bors exclaimed, "I never made it past Year 9 Maths and here you go figuring out Command's entire strategy by sound."

"It's basic patterns and repetition," Bedivere replied humbly.

"Well, it's still mighty impressive," spoke Dagonet, "With all this noise and rain I don't think I would've been able to figure it out myself."

"Thanks, Dag," Bedivere said.

"Wish I could do numbers in my head like that," Percival spoke up next, "Would keep me mind off tomorrow if nothing else."

"Hey," it was now Gawain's turn to speak up, "Remember, we're not the ones going up over the top tomorrow, okay? We're third wave. So don't sweat it."

"Yeah, but-"

"Yeah, but nothing," Gawain said, "All this noise and smoke, I don't think the Boche plan to put up much of a fight."

"That's no guarantee, believe me," Bors spoke solemnly, "They're a persistent lot."

"Arthur," Gawain then elbowed Arthur, whom he was sitting next to, "You've been awfully quiet today, why don't you give us your thoughts."

Arthur quickly looked up from his journal, considered Gawain's words for a moment, then carefully closed his journal before saying, "I, uh... I would advise... caution."

"Everything alright, mate?" Gawain asked.

"Yeah, it's just- haven't been sleeping well these past few nights," Arthur said, which was the truth. Between the rain, the artillery, and everything else...

"Well, we'll need you good and rested if you plan on leading us, Corporal," Bors said, placing emphasis on his rank. Arthur had been breveted to Corporal in preparation for the upcoming battle, and Gawain took his role as Lance Corporal. To an experienced veteran like Bors, who was still a mere Private, the idea of being passed up for promotion didn't exactly sit well with him. On the whole, however, he was not bitter about it; promotion meant more responsibilities.

"I know," Arthur said, quickly attempting to build back up his confidence, "And for the record Gawain, I agree with Bors. There's never a guarantee we don't encounter resistance. We won't know until it comes time for us to go over the top."

Arthur turned to face the rest of his comrades sitting with him in the trench.

"But what I do know, is that the only chance we have at surviving is by sticking together," Arthur began, "So when the time comes, I will lead you, but remember that we are all in this together. My rank doesn't put me above the danger, or your lives below mine. We will share the same fate. I will be proud to fight alongside you lads into battle, come victory or death."

Not only did his short speech have the effect of bolstering the spirits of his comrades, it helped to boost Arthur's own as well. Leadership was not something he had set out for when he was called to service, but Arthur was prepared to do his duty. These men weren't just his comrades, but they were his friends. He'd gladly give his life so that they may live, and he knows that they would do the same for him.

"Officer coming through!" came the gruff and familiar bark of Sergeant Simmons. Immediately, the men stood to attention. Arthur looked over to see if it was their platoon commander, Lieutenant Owens, coming with instructions on tomorrow's offensive, but it turned out to be Kay instead.

"As you were," Kay told the men, and they relaxed their stance, "Where are Galahad and Tristan?"

"Privates Corbenic and Thomas are currently on sentry duty, sir," Simmons answered, but Kay did not acknowledge him. He faced the troops in front of him, saying, "Tomorrow's attack has been delayed. The 38th will be occupying the front trenches for another 48 hours, whereupon we will be relieved by the 7th. We will proceed with the attack on the morning of July 1st at 7:30."

Some of the men in the trench audibly groaned at having to stay in the trenches even longer, but Kay ignored them.

"Corporal Pendragon," Kay called out, and Arthur stood quickly to attention.

"Yes, sir," Arthur responded.

"Come with me," Kay instructed, and Arthur grabbed his rifle before setting out away from his comrades and following Kay through the trench. They continued on until they stopped at the private quarters of Lieutenant Owens. Owens was hunched over his desk writing a report before Kay asked if he could have the room. Owens complied, and Arthur and Kay occupied the room alone.

"You wished to speak with me, sir?" Arthur said, keeping things formal between them.

Kay just sighed and said, "There's no need for formality here, Arthur. It's just you and me."

"I know, it's just... what I mean is that I have an example that I need to set for my men. Sir," Arthur told him.

"That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about," Kay said, leaning back against Owens' desk, "You lads doing okay here?"

"For the most part. It's the rain, mostly," Arthur said.

"No, I mean... are you okay? That surprise attack on our battalion's line wasn't that long ago. Are you sure you and your men will be alright in the upcoming days?" Kay asked somewhat pleadingly, "Because if need be, we can get you a transfer-"

"Out of the question," Arthur interrupted with conviction in his tone, "I'm staying with my men."

"Let me finish," Kay continued, "We have shortages of headquarters personnel, we've used up a significant amount of artillery, and our lines are being stretched thin. The Colonel is worried about a lack of communication once we become embroiled in battle, and so we'll need a runner."

"Then pick Percival or Tristan, they're much faster runners than I," Arthur argued.

"Arthur, the Colonel wants you off the line, and frankly I do too," Kay said.

"With respect, Lieutenant, I was freshly promoted to take command of my section just for this. It will be too late to find a suitable replacement before the battle begins, and I need to be with my men when we go over the top," Arthur continued.

"Please Arthur, we just want to keep you out of danger-" Kay began.

"And what about Gawain? Bedivere? Dagonet? The lot of them?" Arthur argued, "Those are our mates, we grew up with them! You'd have me up and abandon them? No, it does not matter what you or Ector or anyone else says. I am staying with my men, end of story."

Kay looked away from Arthur and sighed, "Arthur... this doesn't just impact you, you know? Think about Gwen, how could I possibly explain to her that you..."

Kay rubbed his eyes, then looked at Arthur and said, "You may stay with your men, but the offer stands."

With that, Kay turned to leave, and Arthur saluted him as he left the officer's quarters. A few moments after that, Arthur left himself and made his way back to where the others were still sitting, doing their best to avoid getting rained on.

"What was that all about?" Gawain asked.

"Nothing important, the main point is that we all stay together," Arthur said, "We do that, and we'll survive - and maybe we'll win too."

Arthur took up his seat next to Gawain, and looked around at the men around him. They didn't like the fact that they were going to have to be cooped up here for another two days before the 7th arrived, but for now they would make do, and Arthur was determined to keep their spirits up.

"Hey, Percy," Arthur called over, and Percival looked his way, "Give us a song, will ya?"

Percival then cleared his throat, saying, "Been a bit since I've had to do this. I'll need to warm up."

"Fat chance of that in this weather," Dagonet joked, and everyone laughed.

"Hey, you know Men of Harlech?" Gawain asked Bors, to which the Englishman shook his head, saying, "No, should I have?"

"If you're going to be in a division with a bunch of Taffys like us, you gotta know our songs," Gawain spoke up.

"Dysgwch iddo sut i siarad yr iaith hefyd," Dagonet spoke in Welsh, and everyone (excluding Bors) laughed once more.

"What? What does that mean?" Bors asked.

"It means we ought to teach you Welsh too, twpsyn," Gawain said with a smile.

"Okay, and what's twpsyn?" Bors asked again.

"It means 'friend,'" Gawain explained. Bedivere and Lucan suppressed their laughter, and thankfully Bors didn't notice.

"Alright then... twpsyn-es or however you say it," Bors began, leading to more (unnoticed) laughter, "Let's sing the bloody song already."

After clearing himself of laughter, Percival began to hum out a tune, finally settling on one he liked.

"Men of Harlech, march to glory. Victory is hov'ring o'er ye. Bright-eyed freedom stands before ye. Hear ye not her call?" Percival finished the first verse.

The rest of the Welsh among them joined in.

"At your sloth she seems to wonder; Rend the sluggish bonds asunder. Let the war-cry's deaf'ning thunder, Every foe appall."

The pitch picked up as more soldiers from around them joined them in song.

"From the hills rebounding, Let this war cry sounding, Summon all at Cambria's call, The mighty force surrounding."

Arthur couldn't help but smile. Though he feared death, the brotherhood he shared with these men is something he would always treasure.

"Men of Harlech, on to glory! This will ever be your story! Keep these burning words before ye! Welshmen will not yield!"


July 7, 1916

Nineteen-thousand dead. In one day. That was how many British soldiers were killed on July 1st.

The first day of the battle had been nothing short of catastrophic. The most disturbing part was how quiet it had began. When the barrage had finally lifted, British troops advanced quickly but quietly across No Man's Land. The bombardment had seemingly done its job in silencing the German lines. No artillery was falling on them, no machine guns were being fired, not even the sounds of stray rifle fire could be heard. But by the time the first wave arrived at the foremost enemy trenches, they discovered they had been abandoned. Not a single German was in sight. More experienced soldiers knew to be weary, but for the majority of them being raw recruits they felt like they had already won.

That surge of confidence, and the failure of the bombardment, led to the bloodbath that had been occurring for the last week. God knows how many more had fallen after that horrific first day, after the first wave had been practically annihilated in their attempt to secure the rear trenches.

The Germans had abandoned Fricourt due to the advances the 21st Division was making, and the 7th Division had managed to capture the village of Mametz itself on the first day of the fighting. However, the Germans had not given up Mametz easily, and were refusing to let the 7th hold on for as long as they were. That is why Arthur and the rest of the 38th were moving up across No Man's Land in the early hours after midnight - their job had now changed from providing support to providing relief to the now-decimated 7th.

Arthur made no noise, but advanced quickly and quietly as he followed Sergeant Simmons and Lieutenant Owens across the dark and muddy terrain, made all the worse by the heavy rains that continued to pour down over them. Occasionally he would look back over his shoulder to make sure that the rest of the platoon was still following close behind him and that none sank into the mud.

In the distance the sound of mortar fire could be heard. Another preliminary bombardment had begun in support of a new attack - one meant to target the German defenses lurking in Mametz Wood just beyond the village.

After the bloodshed this past week alone, Arthur was very much doubtful that this attack would fare any better than what had already been done.

Eventually, the 115th Brigade had arrived in full to the trenches within the village of Mametz. Sporadic machine gun fire could be heard as Ector approached the commanding officer of this particular section of the battered 7th Division troops.

"Colonel Ector Sauvage, 16th Welsh Battalion," Ector addressed with a salute, and the other Colonel saluted in kind, "You have been relieved by the 38th Division by order of General Horne."

The Colonel stood in silence, his eyes breaking focus from Ector as he let out a deep sigh.

"You lads look like you've had a rough go of it," Ector spoke sympathetically.

"You have no idea..." the Colonel's voice dropped, his spirit broken.

Ector held his tongue a moment, then said, "Well... off to the rear with you lot then. There will be hot food and medical attention for your men when you arrive."

The Colonel looked Ector dead in the eyes again, and said, "God be with you... because He certainly was not with us."

These words left Ector at a loss for his own, but said nothing as the Colonel and the rest of his men departed for the rear back across No Man's Land to British lines. Arthur and his men got a good look at those of the 7th Division passing by them. There were an overwhelmingly high number of wounded, and one column of men with bandages around their eyes as they gripped the shoulder of the man in front of them.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," whispered Galahad as he formed the sign of the cross as they passed by.

"Is that gas?" Tristan had asked quietly, but no one had answered him. Everyone was still in shock with what they were seeing.

"Take a good look, lads," Sergeant Simmons spoke up, "You look at these lot real good. This is the war. This is what you are up against."

Arthur was appalled at the sight of what was before him. It just seemed so... senseless. All this bloodshed and torment, and for what? Yards of dirt? Pride? Because it certainly did not look like victory, nevermind peace.

Arthur and the rest of his section took up their positions in place where the 7th had just been. They set their packs down and stripped their equipment down to their basic necessities. Simmons went around handing the soldiers additional clips of ammunition; they would need it come daylight.

"Alright, men," Owens addressed the platoon, "Get some shuteye while you can. The attack on the wood will commence at precisely 0830. That is... seven hours and fifty two minutes from now."

With that, Owens and Simmons left to inspect the rest of the platoon and report back to the company commander. Most of Arthur's section had already put themselves to sleep, awaiting their rousing in the morning when it came time to attack, but Arthur did not. He peered over the top of their trench into Mametz Wood, seeing the scattered assortment of trees in the darkness. God knows what horrors lay before them.

"Hey," Gawain had said after placing a hand on Arthur's shoulder, "Better keep your head down, Corporal. Wouldn't want a stray shot to nick you now. We need you to lead us tomorrow, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah..." Arthur began, putting his head down as he stood in the trench. Gawain noticed the apprehension in Arthur, and then began, "Remember what you told us? Only way we win is by sticking together. When the hour comes, I'm going to be right behind you the entire time."

Gawain stuck out his hand to Arthur.

"To the end?" Gawain asked.

Arthur hesitated for a moment, but only a moment, before he took Gawain's hand in his own and said, "To the end."

Gawain gave a slight smirk before leaving to settle himself in for the night. Arthur, however, remained awake. He found a secluded spot to sit where he could safely light a lantern without being noticed, and subsequently pulled his journal out of his pack. He opened it and found the page of his sketching of Guinevere.

Oh, how much he longed to see her once more. And with tomorrow, there existed the distinct chance he'd never see her ever again. That possibility frightened him even more than death itself, to never again be in the presence of the woman he loved. But he had to be strong for his men nevermind himself. Arthur had to trust that God had a plan for him, that his destiny was not to die in battle tomorrow. Whatever that destiny was, Arthur would meet it.

Arthur pulled a pencil from his pack and turned to a blank page in his journal. In it, he began to write.

My dearest Gwen,

If you are reading this, then that means I will not be returning home as I had promised you on that cold November morning. Instead, I believe I will be enjoying the company of the Almighty if He deems me worthy to enter the Eternal Kingdom. As I am writing this, I am thinking of nothing but you, and I expect to continue doing so up until the moment I draw my last breath. The thoughts of you, of Caerleon and family, have kept me going through these difficult months, and I thank you for the joyful memories we have shared together from our youth. I do not know what the Lord has in store for me, but of one thing I am certain: we will see each other once more, in this world or the next.

I am, and will remain most affectionately yours,

Arthur

As Arthur finished penning his letter, hoping against hope Gwen would never have to set eyes upon it, he stowed the book away and leaned back against the wall of the trench. The mortar fire had become white noise to him, just like Bedivere had talked about days prior, and he started to drift off.

He doesn't know when exactly he fell asleep, but when he did he saw the open grasslands around Caerleon. He saw Gwen in a white dress running towards their favorite spot, the sycamore tree on the hill overlooking the town. Gwen had craned her neck back to look back at Arthur, who was pursuing her, with a wide and mischievous grin on her face. She ran around the tree as Arthur attempted to catch her. Gwen had been laughing as she was toying with Arthur, but in this dream she made no noise. This chasing continued for a short bit before Arthur caught her in his arms and the both of them laughed as they brought each other to the ground.

Gwen had rested her head against Arthur, and the both of them had sat there in silence against the tree as the evening sun descended down over the horizon. From this spot, one could look down and see the harbours of Newport, right near where the Usk emptied out into the Bristol Channel. The angle they were facing allowed them to watch as the sun lowered itself into the sea.

It had been one of the happiest memories Arthur had ever had, being in Gwen's company and appreciating the beauty of the world.

It was also the very evening before Britain declared war on Germany.

He remembers what they talked about that night, about-

"ON YOUR FEET, PENDRAGON!" boomed the voice of Sergeant Simmons, and immediately Arthur was roused from his sleep and bolted upward. He doesn't even recall standing himself up to attention.

"Sir!" Arthur responded dutifully, but Simmons ignored him as he walked through the trench, rousing the still-sleeping troops with shouts and kicks. Once everyone was finally up on their feet, Lieutenant Owens came into view as every man stood to attention.

"The bombardment lifts in fifteen minutes, and that's when we'll be going up over the top," Owens addressed, "Stick together and remember your training. We'll be engaging the enemy in close quarters. Sergeant, begin distributing the Mills' Bombs."

Arthur was still in the process of waking himself up when Simmons placed two hand grenades in his palms. Once the bombs was distributed, Owens ordered "To the wall!"

Arthur stowed away his grenades, buttoned up the collar of his uniform and made sure he fixed his helmet on tight. He looked around and saw the others doing the same before they all turned to face the direction of the enemy. There was an eerie moment of silence from everyone as nothing but the sounds of the rain and artillery could be heard.

"Load!" came the voice of Owens. Arthur pulled the bolt back on his rifle, carefully pressed two five-round clips into the weapon, then with deliberation pushed the bolt forward again.

"Fix... bayonets!" Owens' voice ordered again. Every man unsheathed his bayonet and fixed it to the front of their rifles.

Percival looked like he was having trouble getting his to click into place, but fortunately Tristan took notice and helped him do so before either Owens or Simmons would notice.

Bors was standing by with his Hotchkiss machine gun over his shoulder, and Dagonet was at his side with his rifle slung over his shoulder and holding two crates of ammunition.

Galahad was muttering a prayer under his breath in Latin, his eyes closed tight as he did so.

Bedivere and Lucan had taken the opportunity to embrace each other, hopefully not for the last time.

Gawain put a hand on Arthur's shoulder and said, "See you on the other side, mate."

"You as well," Arthur said, and afterwards Simmons came up and said, "Alright Corporal, here's how we're gonna proceed. Our squad will advance forward with the rest of the platoon. If we encounter machine gun resistance, take your section and flank left; I'll be flanking right. Find a way to get under them and lob grenades at the bastards. We'll regroup at the trenchline."

"Yes, Sergeant," Arthur responded before he turned to Gawain and said, "Lance Corporal, take Bors, Dag, and Galahad with you and hang left. Find a place for the machine gun to cover us."

"Got it," Gawain responded.

"Bed, Lucan, Tristan, Percy, on me," Arthur ordered, and the men nodded in kind.

From then on, there was absolute silence as the men waited for the bombardment to lift and for Owens to blow his whistle. Arthur could feel his hands shaking as he used his rifle to keep himself steady and on his feet.

Elsewhere further down the trench, Ector and Leondegrance were standing at the point where the 16th Welsh Battalion and the 10th South Wales Borderers joined. Both men had seen plenty of action in the past, but still looked weary for what was to come.

"Colonel!" came the voice of Kay as he quickly ran through the trench with a missive in his hand. Ector then took the note from Kay's hand, read it in silence, and sighed.

"Philips, you bastard..." Ector muttered under his breath, which Kay and Leondegrance could still hear. He then placed the note in Leondegrance's hand, who similarly looked frustrated.

"Command cannot afford to deploy reinforcements for the 38th Division owing to a lack of sufficient lines of communication-" Leondegrance started reading aloud.

"-and they're refusing to send out the proper wire and engineers for phone and telegraph lines until after we've taken Mametz Wood," Ector sounded absolutely livid.

"We're on our own, then," a dejected Leondegrance stated.

"We are," Ector declared, "God help us."

The soldiers in the trenches were waiting for what felt like an eternity for the order to go over the top. Every moment that passed filled them with more anxiety and dread. Several were on their knees praying, others were retching and soiling themselves in fear, and others were just standing in a cold numbness awaiting their fate.

Finally, the artillery fire began to slow down, before finally there was a tense moment where nothing could be heard save for the continuously pouring rain.

Arthur switched the safety off his rifle and exhaled deeply.

The shrill sound of Owens' whistle could be heard, and with that he could hear Simmons shouting "CHAAAAAAAAAAAAARGE!"

The soldiers got themselves into a frenzy as they let out a fierce war cry, and with haste they all clambered over the top of the trenches, rifles loaded and bayonets fixed. They charged as fast as they could across the muddy ground. Arthur's vision was blurred as he only focused on what was directly in front of him, seeing the trees of Mametz Wood in the distance and making his way towards them as fast as he could. His mind told him that that was all that mattered, just getting to those trees.

Before anyone realized it, the sounds of machine gun fire could be heard. The Germans had opened up on them. The bullets whizzed through the air as they struck wood, mud, and flesh. At least a dozen had already been killed within the first minute.

So much adrenaline was pumping through Arthur he didn't even process the fact he'd started flanking left of the guns. He continued to doing so until he saw a shell crater in the ground, and on instinct he jumped into the muddy waters as his men followed him into cover.

"Gawain!" Arthur called out, looking over and seeing Gawain and the others advancing left with their own machine gun, "Find a spot for the machine gun!"

Arthur then turned to look at Bedivere, Lucan, Tristan, Percival, and a few others who had joined him at this particular spot.

"Covering fire!" Arthur ordered, and they all took turns peeking up over the side of the crater to lay down rifle fire on the machine gun position, giving Gawain an opportunity to move up with their own gun.

Gawain noticed a fallen tree along their path, then pointed at it saying, "Set up the gun on that log!"

Bors quickly went to work deploying the Hotchkiss on top of the log, while Gawain and Galahad covered him with their own rifle fire. Dagonet opened up one of the ammo crates and pulled out a thirty-round belt for the machine gun before loading it into the side. Bors then began to open fire on the enemy machine gun position, suppressing the fire they were dealing to the advancing 16th Battalion.

"Corporal!" the voice of Simmons called out, and Arthur peaked up to see Simmons was in his own shell hole, "Use your grenades!"

"Grenades!" Arthur instructed his men, and each man pulled out a single hand grenade from their bags. They all pulled the pins, waited three seconds, then lobbed them forward into the enemy trench. Moments later, the sounds of multiple explosions went off, and Arthur looked over the top to see the German machine gun crew flying through the air.

"ADVANCE! ADVANCE!" Owens had ordered, and Arthur and his men charged forward until they came close to the enemy trench. Arthur saw a German soldier raising his rifle to fire at him, but Arthur quickly raised his own in time and fired a shot that went through the man's chest. Next thing he knew, he had jumped into the trench as he and his men were now engaged in brutal hand-to-hand combat with the Germans.

The Division had advanced rapidly across the first sector. The biggest issue was that they were advancing so fast they were all bunching up at the edge of the trench line. This led to ferocious fighting as the close-quarters combat became more severe. Hardly anyone was firing their weapons and instead using their bayonets, rifle butts, and spades to deal damage to each other.

Arthur had just pulled his bayonet out from the shoulder of a wounded German before shooting him, and looking around him it looked as if they were to be successful in taking this first sector. What little Germans had remained were now fleeing down the field toward their lines, and wishing to maintain the momentum, another order came to advance forward to the next sector on the wood's edge.

That's when everything went wrong.

As the 16th Battalion began charging out of the first captured trench and across the field, at least twenty machine guns opened up at once, and that was just in front of them. On their left flank, six more opened up on their side.

Dozens upon dozens of men began falling to the ground. Screams of pain and terror could be heard as the bullets flying through the air ripped through the bodies of the soldiers. Some were dead before they even hit the ground.

"THE CAPTAIN'S GONE!" a voice shouted over the gunfire.

"Stay strong, lads, and think smart-" Owens had begun calling out before a bullet tore through his throat. He dropped his revolver and clutched his throat as he fell face first into the mud.

"Oh shit!" Percival exclaimed as they watched their Lieutenant being slaughtered before their eyes.

"EVERYONE HUG THE GROUND! NOW!" Simmons called out, and immediately the men sank themselves down into whatever cover they could find.

Arthur kept his hands pressed down over his helmet as bullets whizzed by him. He dare not look up and expose himself to the carnage around him.

Please oh Lord, please let me and my men get through this...

A moment later, whooshing noises could be heard, and Arthur quickly peeked up to see several canisters emitting a yellowish-brown gas. Fear then crept up into Arthur's heart as he saw it coming towards them.

"GAS! GAS! GAS!" Simmons barked, and instantly every man around them reached into their bags and pulled out their gas masks. Arthur whipped off his helmet and was fidgeting with his mask for a few moments making sure it would be secure on his face, and soon enough the gas surrounded them. Fortunately these masks would protect them. Unfortunately, not all of them were able to put them on in time. Several fell into fits of coughing as they inhaled the poisonous fumes of the mustard gas.

As this was occurring, it now dawned on Arthur that the machine guns had stopped firing. He looked around him to try and make out what was going on around him. He couldn't see the enemy, and he could barely see any allies beyond his companions lying nearby him.

A moment later, a whistling noise was heard. The Germans had begun to open fire with artillery.

"EVERYONE STAY DOWN! STAY DOWN AND-" Simmons' voice began, but he never finished his command. A shell had cut him short.

"Oh Jesus!" Lucan exclaimed, "They got the Sergeant too!"

At that moment, whatever Arthur was feeling transcended fear. It was no longer a fear of death, but a certainty that it was going to come. This attack was coordinated, precise. The machine guns had pinned them down, the mustard gas had obscured and blinded them, and the artillery was aiming with such precision that this field had to be pre-sighted for an attack. Their Captain was dead, Owens was dead, Simmons was dead... and he knew that at one point or another he'd be next. He and his men were going to die here, and there was nothing to be done about it.

More shells continued to rain down on them in overwhelming capacity. Several were blown apart by a single shell.

"FALL BACK! FALL BACK!" a voice called out, though Arthur couldn't tell who. Who was even left at this point?

"Come on, lads!" Arthur told his men, "Fall back!"

Arthur, caked in mud, got up off the ground and began running back towards their lines, with Bedivere, Lucan, Tristan, and Percival following along his sides. It was impossible to see what was going on, but he knew that if they just ran back in the direction they came then they'd be alright.

Suddenly, Arthur felt himself being lifted off the ground. In another moment, he heard a deafening explosion go off. Arthur screamed as he was flung through their air, dropping his rifle and flailing his arms before coming to land hard against the ground.

Arthur didn't move for several moments. There was a loud ringing in his ears as he looked up and tried to gauge his surroundings. His vision was disoriented due to the explosion, and neither the gas nor the mask were making things any better.

"GAWAIN!" he called out, hoping someone could hear him, "BED! PERCY! TRISTAN! WHERE ARE YOU?!"

Arthur stumbled as he tried picking himself up, though he was relieved to discover he was still in one piece. He wasn't able to hear anything over the ringing in his ears, not even the explosions all around him. He began to stumble forward, not even bothering to pick up his rifle as he tried to make his way back to their lines.

Further and further he ran through the gas, moving as fast as his feet could carry him given the fact the muddy ground threatened to trap his boots. He didn't realize how far he was running, nor how long he was doing so either. Eventually, the gas seemed to dissipate, and Arthur continued to run forward before skidding to a halt.

Arthur placed his hands on his knees, breathing deeply through his mask as he had practically exhausted himself. Once he had caught his breath, Arthur looked for any lingering signs of mustard gas, and upon seeing there was none he ripped the mask from his head and took in a deep breath of clean air.

Arthur closed his eyes and sighed deeply, his heart still pounding inside his chest. He was alive. He had made it out intact from that deathtrap of a battlefield.

But then it suddenly occurred to him that he could no longer hear the artillery barrage. And more than that, with all this running he should have made it back to the trenches at Mametz by now and linked up with the others. Arthur opened his eyes and scanned around him, and all he could see around him was the dense forest. Not a single British or German soldier could be seen, nor could he hear the sound of gunfire from anywhere.

"Oh no," Arthur exclaimed, recognizing his predicament. He was lost, with no sense of direction nor any idea where he was. He didn't know where Gawain or the others were, nor how to get back to them. The only company he had were the trees.

"No, no, no, no, no," Arthur started to panic once again, spinning all around looking for any landmarks or signs of life, but he was greeted only with silence.

Arthur took another deep breath, and said, "Okay, get a grip, Pendragon. You're not dead, just lost. You just got to find your way back. Back to the lads. Yeah, it'll be fine. Just get your compass and..."

As Arthur reached for his compass, he realized that it was missing, as was the majority of his gear. He had left his pack with most of his possessions back in their trench. He had no maps to navigate the terrain nor any weapons to defend himself with. All he had for protection was a bandolier of rifle clips (which were quite useless without the rifle itself) and a single grenade in his gas mask bag; he didn't even have his spade. He had no rations except for his canteen, which would last him a day or two at most if he was judicious. He'd lost his helmet in the assault after putting on his mask...

"Oh God," Arthur exclaimed, suddenly realizing he had no idea what had become of his mates. Had they escaped back to their lines? Had they been killed? They couldn't be gone, could they?

Whatever anxieties Arthur had about his own situation paled in comparison to what had become of his friends. He had to get back to them, he had to make sure they were safe.

Arthur looked up and saw that the trees were blocking the view of the sky. Even if the canopy wasn't there, the gray rainclouds obscured any view of the morning sun, so he had not the sense of time or direction on his side.

He stowed away the gas mask back inside his bag, then reached for the crucifix around his neck and held it in his palm.

"Show me the way back home," Arthur said aloud, hoping his prayers would be answered. He took a deep breath and started walking forward, trusting he would find what he was looking for.

Arthur had no idea what lay before him, but little did he know he would soon be faced with his destiny.