The endless historical battlefield that began with World War I

The trenches here are a mess left behind by the Third Battalion.

Joseph walked through the trench, his brow furrowing with each step—the drainage slope was reversed, causing all the water to flow to the lowest point, which happened to be the ammunition storage area; the firing ports were angled incorrectly, only covering a 60-degree fan-shaped area in front, leaving a clear blind spot on the right flank; the wooden beams on the top of the trench were insufficient to support the load, with two sections exceeding the permitted width, which would amplify the shockwave effect of artillery fire; the trench floor lacked paving, leaving soldiers to walk directly on the seeping clay…

He prioritized these issues in his mind.

Drainage is paramount, as it directly impacts non-combat casualties.

The term "trench foot" is not yet widely used in the British military medical system. But Joseph knew it; he knew how many men would lose their toes because of it during this war—toes that were constantly immersed in ice water would soften and rot, leading to amputation in severe cases and complete loss of combat capability in milder cases. Moreover, once rotting began, it was very difficult to treat, and prevention relied on grease and changing socks.

Secondly, the location of the ammunition storage point needs to be moved; otherwise, if water accumulates, all the ammunition will be ruined.

Thirdly, the current trench roof structure cannot withstand close-range shell fragments, so a double-layer structure of wooden planks and sandbags needs to be added to key areas.

These are things that the British military only came to understand and learn from after a year or two of this war.

It is now December 1914. Those reports have not yet been written, those manuals have not yet been printed, and those lessons are still buried in the corpses to come.

Joseph turned around and called Parker over.

Parker was one of his classmates. He came from a textile factory background, was taciturn, and had a habit of taking a half-step back before speaking, as if afraid of blocking someone's way.

Nearly two weeks had passed since the counter-offensive began on the Marne River and the march north. On the second day of the march, Parker began to limp. When Joseph asked him why, he said it was nothing, just that his boots were wearing out. On the fourth day, Joseph noticed that when Parker rested at the camp, he would quietly take off his boots, look at his feet, and then put them back on without telling anyone.

"Take off your boots."

Parker hesitated for a moment, then took it off.

Joseph looked down.

His toes were white, the skin was beginning to soften, and wrinkles were starting to form between his toes. The edge of the nail on his left little toe was a little darker than the rest of his body—at this stage, it didn't hurt, or it was just a dull tingling sensation, and Parker probably thought he could get through it.

During the initial stages of the march, the situation deteriorates much faster when the troops are submerged in flooded trenches.

"Go back in, and come with me."

******************

Captain Hodges, the medic accompanying the team, was stationed in a canvas tent at the rear. A red cross sign hung outside the tent, the letters on which had become somewhat blurred from being soaked by the rain.

Joseph lifted the tent flap, led Parker inside, and explained the situation.

Hodges was a man in his fifties. He flipped Parker's foot over, then put it down, saying, "Tell him to change his socks more often. Keep him hygienic."

"This isn't a hygiene issue," Joseph said. "It's tissue damage caused by prolonged soaking. The skin has started to soften, requiring specific preventative measures: using oils to repel water, changing socks regularly, and keeping feet dry."

Hodges looked up at him.

"Sergeant," he said, "are you telling me how to practice medicine?"

"I am reporting a soldier's symptoms, requesting—"

"I heard your request," Hodges said. "Change your socks, and be hygienic." He picked up a pen from the table, lowered his head, and said, "I have other things to do. You can leave now."

Joseph stood still for two seconds.

Hodges didn't look up: "Sergeant, if you're going to bother me with this kind of thing again, I'll put this visit in your file and let your company commander decide whether it constitutes obstruction of a medical officer's duties."

Joseph brought Parker out.

The canvas tent curtains were drawn down, blown up and then flattened by the wind outside. The rain was still falling, fine and a little cold.

Parker stood beside him and said, "Sir, actually my foot... doesn't hurt too much, it should be fine."

Joseph did not answer him, but mentally took stock of the available resources.

The proper channels are completely blocked. Hodges has blocked all entrances. Joseph has no authority to issue additional medical supplies, no authority to force medical treatment, and no authority to bypass Hodges and report medical problems directly to the battalion headquarters—that would indeed be recorded in his file.

He can only use what is within the authority of his class monitor.

******************

Joseph went to see McDonald.

After listening to Joseph's request, McDonald squatted down and looked around the bottom of the trench. He stood up, said nothing more, picked up the shovel, and left.

He went to find timber.

There was a stable nearby that had been partially destroyed by cannon fire, and there was enough timber.

O'Connor leaned against the trench wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips, observing the entire process with a leisurely academic air.

"Joseph," he said, "I have a question."

"ask."

"What you're doing right now—fixing drainage, finding planks, messing around with socks—" He twirled a cigarette between his fingers, "what does this have to do with fighting a war?"

"Parker's toe is rotten, so he can't fight."

"Then Hodges should be in charge of this."

Hodges doesn't care.

O'Connor took a moment to process it, nodded, and said in a tone of profound realization, "So now you're a squad leader, medic, and engineer all at the same time."

"almost."

"Joseph," O'Connor said, "have you ever considered that if you continue like this, you might end up having to work as a cook as well?"

"If you have time to talk, go to the logistics department and ask if they have any extra wool socks."

O'Connor tucked the cigarette behind his ear, stood up, brushed the mud off his knees, and walked toward the logistics area, muttering to himself, "I joined the army to fight the Germans, and now I'm running errands for socks..."

The sound gradually faded into the distance.

********************

McDonald found the wood, and Joseph and he worked together to saw the scrap planks into suitable lengths, spaced two palm widths apart horizontally, secured them with rope, and laid them one by one into the trench.

Once the grid is laid out, your feet won't sink into the clay when you step on it.

At the same time, the drainage slope also needed to be modified—the water accumulation at the bottom of the trench was the direct cause of Parker's toes rotting faster, and treading the trench only provided temporary relief; without modifying the drainage, it was merely treating the symptoms, not the root cause. Joseph reversed the slope, placing the inlet at a higher point and the outlet at a lower point, allowing gravity to help push the water outwards.

After the drainage slope was modified, the water started to move.

A thin stream of water flows along the newly dug slope toward the outlet.

Tom squatted down beside him, staring at the stream of water, then looked up at Joseph with an expression as if he had just witnessed a miracle.

"It...it's flowing."

"right."

"The water is flowing outwards."

"Yes, Tom."

"Joseph, that's amazing," Tom said, his tone incredibly sincere. "How did you come up with that?"

O'Connor appeared from the side and gave Tom a deep pat on the shoulder: "Gravity, Newton, you know?"

"I know about gravity, but—"

"You know that much," O'Connor said. "You know in a way that means you know nothing, I understand."

After O'Connor finished speaking, he took the cigarette out from behind his ear, put it in his mouth, and took out a match—but he paused and put the cigarette back.

"Never mind," he said, "keep it."

Tom asked, "Why?"

"Something to celebrate." He brushed the mud off his knees and stood up. "It's normal for the drainage to be working. Normalcy isn't something to celebrate—celebrating normalcy is decadent."