A Reason to Fight | Schofield

12 | All or Nothing

As my feet carried me aimlessly through the woods, my hope began to dwindle.

Schofield had to be long ahead of me by now. I kept thinking to myself: what if I was in the entirely wrong location, or what if Schofield didn't even survive the water's torrents and my search was futile? How was it feasible that I would have a chance of finding him when I had no idea where to look? My heart filled increasingly with dread for every step I took.

Then I worried, if by some miracle I made it to the 2nd Devons, and Schofield wasn't already there. . . how would I convince Colonel MacKenzie to stop the attack? Schofield was the one carrying the message from the General, not me. A high ranking officer would never listen to a woman without a signed order; I probably wouldn't make it near the colonel's quarters.

I became distraught, fearing all hope was lost, fearing the 2nd Devons would be wiped out, fearing I might never see Schofield again, fearing that today I might lose everything.

In the distance, a longing voice floated through the trees and lulled me forward. I was drawn towards its sweetness, the music sweeping over me like a canopy and inviting me to its source. I stumbled through the woods, looking for the singing man, wondering if it was even real or just a figment of my weary imagination.

I came up over a hill and was finally greeted with the song's vocalist. A young soldier with a clear voice, standing in the center of a company of men. He raised his gaze up to the trees, his words washing over the solemn men as he sang the final line.

"I'm only going over home. . ."

As his tune finished and the air fell silent, all the soldiers briefly applauded and then began to stir. One after another, they stood and began filing out of the woods, falling in place beside each other and heading down into the stretches of a nearby trench. It was almost as if they were preparing for battle, lining up to fight.

Then it hit me. These were the Devons.

I scrambled forward, nearly slammed into the body of a man who looked down at me with raised eyebrows, surprised to see a woman in the middle of the woods soaked to the bone in river water. I looked up at him for a second, opened my mouth and sputtered a few unintelligible words out, before stumbling back and falling flat on my rear.

"Um. . ." the man said, unsure how to react. "What the hell are you doing here?" he asked before getting the attention of some fellow soldiers. A few of them circled up to look down at me, and my cheeks flushed with heat in embarrassment as I quickly got myself back on my feet.

"I'm looking for someone," I said quickly, the words flying out of my mouth. "Lance Corporal Schofield, he was sent here to deliver an urgent message. Medium height, blond-ish hair, probably soaked from the river just like I am, have you seen him? We were separated, and–"

"Jesus, slow down," one of the men said, putting a hand out towards me. "You need to sit. Have you hit your head?"

"No! Please, I need to find–"

"Come on, madam, let's just sit you down and we'll send a medic up to get you–"

"What's going on over here?" Another soldier approached the scene.

"I have no idea where she came from, but I think she's gone mad."

"I'm looking for someone!" I shouted, cutting everyone off and drawing the eyes of more soldiers who were gathering their belongings. "His name is Schofield, and I need to find him! Please, help me. . ."

"You know, I think that might be the lad who just took off running down the line. . ." another soldier with red hair said from a few feet away, pointing down the mass of soldiers into the trenches. "Soaking wet chap, said he had a message for the Colonel?"