𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐀 𝐖𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍 | | 1917

9. I DON'T KNOW

" She looked at her reflection, in the mirror. Into those eyes. She understood that the person behind those left a long time ago. "

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MARCH 29th
1917
Northern France

-

(Flashback nr 1)
two weeks earlier...

THERE WAS A CAMP set in between the small towns of Écoust and Amiens. Its trenches were filled with French soldiers. With mud on their dark blue clothes and dark rings under their eyes. Holding closely onto the ground as they laid ready on the edges of the land. Staring into the flatlands in front of them, rifles pointing towards the German front line so far away, yet so close.

It was scary silent. The wind brushed past their ears in an unsettling way. Leaving them bare, cold, and afraid.

Standing behind the big dug-up wall stood a woman. Her hair was just as messy and her eyes glancing at the men. Almost glasslike in some manner, the pupils small and unfocused.

She was breathing silently, gripping hard onto her sleeved arm and pinching the skin beneath it. A red cross was displayed on her upper arm and chest as well as a dirty white apron tied around her waist.

Josephine's feet kept threatening to collapse, but with her other arm wrapped around the wooden ladder leading up to the soldiers, she kept herself still. She had earlier watched the gray ocean of mist and sorrow in front of her come closer in no man's land- she nevertheless stayed still. She was curious and not ready to bother herself into resisting it once the feeling came over her. It embedded her in warm strange security and at that very moment, she knew it eventually would get her killed.

A loud whistle reached her ears and soon enough, the men were running. Running as if death himself wasn't standing waiting for them.

Jo pressed her back against the barrier, unable to look at what was behind her. What she heard was enough. Enough for her to close her eyes and wish she wasn't there. Seconds went by and those seconds became long moments, yet the acts wouldn't stop.

She was just a child.
And she was so awfully tired of being strong.
She washed her hands off it.

"Médicale!"

She opened her voice at the distant yell. Medic. That was her, that was something she had to do. She forced herself onto her two legs, the weight from her malnourished body pressing down on her weak feet.

One step at a time she moved towards the voice. It seemed to be coming from everywhere. The chaos was constantly running and screaming around her, making it impossible for the young nurse to focus on what she was supposed to do.

"Infirmière!" the desperate yells continued. Nurses. They needed nurses.

But there were too many. And Josephine was too small. Just a girl and barely keeping herself from passing out on the could, blood-stained ground.

Yet, she kept going.

Someone grabbed her arm. She turned her head and watched the face of a distressed soldier.

"S'il vous plaît aidez-le," he begged her, nodding over at another man laying on the ground next to him. Please, help him.