So ... I have a plan?

Well, we'll just have to see what will happen, won't we?

(Also, if these chapters are getting repetitive or boring, you can tell me)

Okay, so there was something that I was kind of unsure about, but it checks out, so I am now relieved haha.

Enjoy! :)

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The 77th Division is not in good shape right now.

There were 554 men. 197 of them got killed, and 150 of them--including Jack, Kid Griffo, and Dave Simmons--got captured. The rest? Jack has no clue where they are now. He hopes they're okay.

They're all being marched off to a prison camp ... somewhere. Somewhere in Germany, that is. Jack, Kid Griffo, and Dave Simmons have a rough day of marching ahead of them.

True, they have a rough week (more than just one rough week) behind them. 

Jack knows there are some things he saw that he'll never be able to unsee. He sees the haunted look in Kid Griffo and Dave's eyes. They are seeing things too.

Jack doesn't know how long they've been moving, no way for them to stop moving. They assume it's been hours, but that could also be minutes passing by super long.

Until, finally, they reach the gates outside of the prison camp. The gate opens, and they're marched inside.

Jack looks at his surroundings.

True, he doesn't know exactly where he is. 

He just knows that he's probably going to be here for a really, really long time.

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Mush wants to get off the battlefield.

Spot wants to get off the battlefield.

Neither wants to continue with this.

Yesterday they got the news that most of the 77th Division got captured.

They remember the drafting card Jack had. They know that Jack is a part of the 77th Division. Which means that if he isn't dead or still missing, he's a prisoner. They hope that he's only missing.

They hope that they won't need to put up a gold star for him back home.

If they make it back home.

There are troops who are trying to rescue the 77th Division, which is now nicknamed the "Lost Battalion." Mush and Spot would have volunteered to go with them, but their general had other plans for them.

Those plans? Staying here.

While so far the goal of this battle is going better than it had been with the first divisions, it still is hard, and Mush and Spot don't know how long this is going to go on. Yesterday was the beginning of the second phase of the "big plan," but sometimes they wonder if there really is a plan, if there really is a reason for all of this to be happening.

They just have to make it through today. And tomorrow, and the day after that, and however long it takes until they can go home.

If they are able to go home.

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In the Battle of St. Quinten Chanal, there are already British forces fighting there. But today, the Australian Corps fighting have been withdrawn. And so, to move progress forward, David, Sardinia, and the rest of the British and American pilots in London, all are flying to the Beaurevoir Line, which is the 3rd line of defense for the Hindenburg Line. They need more people to fight, so more people they will have.

Maybe Jack will be fighting on the ground.

And maybe David can wave at him as he passes by him.

He hopes Jack is okay. Wherever he is.

He has no clue what's happening with any of his friends. He's had no news at all.

No news is good news, right?

Well, when there is no communication whatsoever, that is not necessarily true.

But David can't think about that right now. As much as he wants to worry for Jack and his friends right now, he can't, because right now he is flying a plane, and he can't do that if he's distracted.

Still, he can't stop thinking of the conversation he and Sardinia had before they took to the air. He remembers the end of it very vividly.

"They may claim to care about us, or if we make it out alive, but they don't," Sardinia says. "It's all just manpower to them. If we live, then they can get us to fight another one of their battles. But there's only so many battles a person can go through."

Surely, though, the battles will have to end. This is the war to end all wars, so surely they're planning on stopping waging war at some point. 

Right?

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Race is so, so scared right now. He has never been so lost and alone in his whole life.

He shoes are starting to get worn down from all the walking. He's barely slept, he's barely stopped moving. He just hopes he can hold up, physically and mentally, and emotionally.

Why, here's my trousers, fringed like lambrequins, and weighting four pounds less than a straw hat. Look at my shoes--full of holes as a sand sieve.

Race chuckles at the memory. He said that once, back when he was a newsie, incredibly poor but rich with sass; and he didn't think anything about it, just pointing out how poor he was, except it ended up being a quote in a newspaper, and he got a big kick out of that. Any time a newspaper quoted him during the strike, really, he got excited.

Those days were so long ago.

The memories help keep him going.

Especially the memories of him and his brother, back when they lived with their grandparents. Those are days long gone now.

Find him.

That's been his only driving thought as he walks.

That, and that he hopes he's going the right direction.

All he knows is that Italy is east of France, and he's pretty far west in France. He's not the best with directions, but as long as he follows the rising sun in the morning and make sure the sun is setting behind him, he's going in the right direction.

But what will happen in Italy? Italy is probably just as war-torn as the rest of these countries.

But it might end up being the only country where things make sense.

And he'll take that chance.

He's just glad that no one has caught him by now. Running away from the army ... desertion is a serious crime.

Hopefully they don't even notice I'm gone.

That would be for the best.

Race stops for a moment to catch his breath. Maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to stop here for the night. Last night he got over his fear of the forest pretty quickly. As long as there isn't a battle going on in the woods, he trusts that he'll wake up the next morning.

That doesn't stop him from building a makeshift shelter out of the nearest sticks and logs he can find, though.

Soon, though, he's going to run into civilization again. He'll be okay with that.

Find him. Find your brother. Find Antonio Conan Higgins.

And with those thoughts running through his head, Race falls asleep under the stars, the future full of so many uncertainties.

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So things are dire.

My research tabs aren't loading, so you can imagine how much stress I'm under haha.

Okay, so I know I usually say that I "revamp my writing style" ... but I think I've actually done that. These chapters ... they're just scraps that make up a whole chapter. Just little bits from everyone's story, incomplete on their own.

Yes, they're scraps. But hopefully, those scraps will turn into a beautiful quilt with one huge story to tell.

Maybe I'm worried that people won't like it because I haven't exactly done something this fragmented before. But I've worried about other things I've done, and for the most part those turned out well enough.

The action will pick up a little more. I just need to do my research during the day, and writing before 1:00 am.

Things will get interesting, and will get better. You'll see.

Please, no homophobia, profanities, hate etc in the comment section at all times.

Best,

~Your Beloved Author (who keeps themself awake at night by writing fanfiction, scrolling through Tumblr, helping their friend through an existential crisis, and mal-adaptive daydreaming, all in one night, each night; with insomnia to top it off)