AND THE ANZAC LEGENDS DIDN'T MENTION...

[agogemod]

AND THEN SOMEONE YELLED OUT "CONTACT!";

and the bloke behind me swore

THE SILENT WAR

The news of the day of the retreat spreads like wildfire through the Trenches. Leading up to the final date, all soldiers on the ground are instructed to limit their gunfire, to make it look like the usual traditions for warfare, which have determined much of human history up until this point: no one really goes to war in winter. Everyone is to maintain a verbal and physical presence, but the time to confuse the Turks has really become paramount. At times, whole sections are ordered to be perfectly quiet until the last possible second and then spring out before the Turks can get too close.

Which is just how it is supposed to be. In fact, for COST recruits, there's a real sense that this might just go according to plan.

Around this time, the Rear Guard signup starts. COST recruits are met with some surprise by Captain Lewis; he will blink in surprise at a group so new wanting to volunteer so readily, but he's glad and gives everyone who joins a big warm handshake.

Each day gets closer and the mood of the soldiers becomes more jubilant and tenser; the erratic sense of relief that they might be leaving what has become the graveyard of so many friends and, often times, family, combines with the frustration of not being able to do anything but wait. This leads to more than a few fights breaking out, often over nothing important. Just the edge of temporary relief.

Then, before dawn on Jan 7th, the evacuation begins in earnest. It's possible to see it from the top of some sections: a bustling populace until it trickles down to the ghost of the Trenches, where there is nothing left but the rear guard. It's a smooth, efficient evacuation.

The Rear Guard

This is a skeleton army, just enough to make it seem no one has left. Everyone is encouraged to come up with ways to make it seem like there are more men than there actually are.

The local soldiers have come up with a particularly sneaky one - a rope is wrapped around the trigger of a rifle, just loose enough not to pull it, and from the end of it hangs a bucket. Another container slowly drips water into the bucket until it fills and drops, pulling the rope around the trigger and firing the gun. Soldiers are tasked with emptying the water, refilling the cannister, or checking the gun if it looks like it has jammed.

Outside of that, if someone has a sneaky idea to keep up the ruse - even if it's lighting small fires or singing loudly in a chorus to give the notion of people still around - it's all encouraged.

THE THUNDER OF GUNS

Everything is going well. It's not even that worrying when a thick mist comes up, heavy and difficult to see through. But, for those with powers, it prickles oddly on bare skin, followed by a pressure that builds in the back of the mind. It seems to dull any extra powers or senses; magic and its ilk are still usable, but require more concentration to reach now.

In the stillness of the night, however, there is no breeze to move the fog on and it settles like oil through the trench.

It's 1am when the first shell drops. It falls to the east of the recruits' position at Lone Pine. It's a shell that comes down and splits apart the night air in an explosion of shrapnel, dirt and heat. Then a second, then a third, now starting from both sides.

All the soldiers' clamour out of the way and Captain Lewis can be heard shouting over the din: "Into the Tunnels!"

But not everyone can make it. The shells are coming steadily now and one step in the wrong direction is the difference between life and death in such a small space. It's chaos - some soldiers are killed outright. Others get buried under the debris and dirt. Others catch shrapnel that, if not fatal, is enough to throw them and make it hard to get up. But COST's mission is the same as it always is: save as many of these men's lives as possible.

There are four direct entries into the tunnels, all about four or five meters apart, and they're all interconnected within the tunnels themselves.

One by one, however, shells fall and destroy the entrances to the tunnels.

WARTIME ARCHEOLOGY

It takes another three hours for the bombardment to stop and, once the tunnel entrances collapse, it becomes very dark in there. Might be time to fish out a match and strike up a torch.

While Officers previously told soldiers to keep out of the tunnels and otherwise left them ignored, these tunnels are huge. Not like the ones in other sections of the coast; here, they seem to go far into No Man's Land. They're crudely constructed and only some sections are reenforced with heavy beams of wood. But once journeying into them, there are all sorts of things to be found. There are old gas lamps that can be used to light your way or hung on a secure nook or cranny. The stone has been worn smooth in some sections, and other parts have been carved with graffiti of the soldiers who cut them out.

Some locations go down a few steps, while others go up and small holes seem to have been dug through the roof of the tunnels.

It's definitely best to get away from the front of the tunnels, where the bombing is still going on. There are wounded to be seen to and secured from bleeding out, people to find to make sure everyone is still alive. Maybe you want to go farther into the interweaving tunnels to see what else can be recovered. Or maybe you're being stubbornly sensible and looking for a way to dig your way out again, once the bombs stop firing.

Either way, it's a long, exhausting wait in the dark as the ground shakes, showering dust and rocks over everyone.

INTO THE DAWN

The sun has risen when the firing stops - and it's time to search for a way out of here.

Stepping into the light reveals utter destruction. The concentrated bombing has done its work; everything is strewn or buried in dirt and rubble. Machine guns are overturned and parts of the Trench have collapsed; going over the top would be disastrous, given that the Turks have no idea what is happening and will pick off anyone who sticks their head up.

There also isn't...anyone else around. All that's left is this one segment of the rear guard, just 500 men and the COST soldiers. It isn't possible to discern if the other groups have been evacuated or killed at this point.

It's time to consolidate, count their losses, see who is alive and who isn't, and salvage what supplies are left after some digging clean up is done. Work out who needs to stand watch. For now, Captain Lewis' orders are to use the tunnels as a new base of operations.

SOMETHING WICKED THIS WAY COMES

They appear first as a shimmer of off-light, no more than a haze against the resettling mist. A faint shape against the grey - the long lines of a dog's face, almost Jackal-like, in a clean black uniform that gives more to the appearance of shadows - moves closer, but not too close. They could almost be a trick of the light, out of the corner of your eye. Almost intangible.

They're not moving closer, however, choosing to hang back in the rubble of the Trenches. The ANZAC soldiers don't seem to notice them at all.

Ten minutes after they're first spotted, Commander Grothia issues a priority message:

Contact. Regency soldiers. Do not engage.

If a shot does get fired that way, whether it's from Turkish or ANZAC soldiers unknowingly or from COST operatives: it's quick but, as the bullet seems to come into contact with them, the air around them shimmers blue, like it's hitting a field of light. This effect seems to be stronger when they're standing close together and, as of now, they remain unhurt.

Moving closer to them increases that feeling of mind fog on powered characters; for the unmagical, a sense of unease prickles up. It's a feeling not unlike the beginnings of the time-step, the hum of sensation that marks a transfer through time. Veteran recruits will easily recognize the buzz that dances through their bones before it stills as they move away; rookies might recall it from their initial arrival from BASE.

READ THE OOC INFOPAGE.

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Comments

[trample]

[ Eren can tell it isn't the best situation for the lad. It must be rough. Which is why he must do this, and fast at that. He puts the match in between his lips and gets to work.

Taking one of the jacket's cuffs tightly inside his armpit, he holds out the length of one of its sleeves along his arm, taking his bayonet's edge to the jacket's own armpit, cutting away at the seams.

It's quite effective. Maybe there were a few lice in there that go stir crazy and escape, but whatever's left won't be living long. After thrusting the larger part of the jacket back at its rightful owner, he wraps the sleeve around the far end of his knife, ties it tight, and douses it quite liberally with kerosene, before spitting the match onto the whole thing.

The flames nearly singe his eyebrows off, but the light's nearly blinding compared to how things were before. Eren, startled, is almost entranced by it, before quickly coming back to his senses and acting as one should in a situation like this. ]

I only ever needed your sleeve. [ Was that a joke? ] Try to keep warm. Hypothermia's an awful way to go.

[millimeter]

[EREN, WHY ARE YOU THE WAY YOU ARE. Actually—]

Seriously? Why are you like this.

[Prompto grabs back the jacket, yanking it back on as quickly as possible, even though it leaves his one arm exposed. It looks dumb as hell and he's going to have to raid a corpse for a new one. Why has this become a standard part of his life.]

You know, it would have helped your case if you didn't do the cryptic hobo speak.

[He's less annoyed than before, though, with the comfort of light.]

[trample]

[ It doesn't take a genius to realize he's colder with his jacket down by a sleeve. Eren doesn't care. ]

Just shut up and shove your arm inside. [ Out of context, that sentence... ] In your coat, I mean. We're not going to be fighting anyone anytime soon, so you can get away with taking it easy for now.

[millimeter]

[Eren is a bossy asshole, but Prompto obviously knows that by now and only looks disgruntled.]

Wow, thanks for the permission. I was totally looking for that.

[He glances around the walls, discomfited by the small size of the space, before he glances back at Eren.]

What's with the gas mask? [He didn't think there was any gas or anything else wrong with the air...]

[trample]

...

[ Self-awareness was not a priority at the moment. So it only makes sense that the person to first recognize something was off was someone besides himself. Eren takes a cautionary pause before tilting his head in what looked like only half of a nod. ]

I guess you're right.

[ Prompted by Prompto, his hands go to the front and back of his head simultaneously. The one at the back undoes the latches while the front one lets the mask fall into its grip before dropped to his side. Eren's face wears a look that must make it seem like he's dead on his feet. But he still takes a step forward, though his gait seems stiff. ]

Do you know the way?

[millimeter]

[The two of them sure do make an exhausted comedy duo of a pair.

Prompto raises an eyebrow, immediately picking up on the way Eren moves.]

Wait, are you hurt?

[trample]

Not hurt.

[ With the light shimmering in front of him, the blood that stained him from top to bottom were now clearly visible. His coat was more bullet holes than it was coat. It'd take a tailoring by God's hand to fix it up again. But Eren just continues walking forward. ]

Just a little bit tired.

[millimeter]

[Prompto is eyeing that coat, even as he picks after Eren.]

Do you have magic or something?

[And then he adds, after glancing over Eren's shoulder:]

The, uh, left fork up ahead. That's how I came in so...probably shouldn't go that way.