The endless historical battlefield that began with World War I

The next morning.

Joseph awoke before dawn.

He washed his face, changed into the few clean clothes he had, stuffed a few changes of clothes into his bag, and then went down from the attic.

In the kitchen, the cook had already gotten up.

She saw Joseph, paused for a moment, then sighed: "Leaving?"

"Yes, madam."

"Have something to eat." The cook handed him a piece of bread and a small piece of bacon. "You'll need energy for the journey."

Joseph took the food and looked at the cook's red and swollen eyes: "You...have you been crying?"

"I'm getting old, I can't bear to see people leave." The cook wiped her eyes. "I felt the same way when my son left. Now I have to say goodbye to you all... Sigh."

She suddenly grabbed Joseph's hand, her voice trembling: "Promise me you'll come back alive."

Joseph looked at the coarse but kind old woman and felt a mix of emotions welling up inside him.

In this cruel manor, the cook was one of the few people who treated him like a human being.

Although she had a bad temper and a sharp tongue, she would secretly save him an extra piece of bread, comfort him when Clark scolded him, and bring him a bowl of hot soup on a cold winter night.

"I will," Joseph said solemnly. "I promise."

The cook released her grip, turned around, and said in a choked voice, "Go on. Don't keep Tom waiting."

Just then, footsteps came from the stairwell.

Mary practically ran down the stairs, her hair still unkempt, clutching a neatly folded handkerchief pouch. She stopped in front of Joseph, catching her breath, and shoved the pouch into his hand.

"There's a needle and thread and a small piece of cloth inside." She lowered her head, her ears slightly red. "A torn garment can be mended; it's better than nothing."

Joseph weighed it in his hand; it was rather heavy. "This is..."

"There are a few candies left," Mary said quickly, "for when we're bored on the way."

She finally looked up, her eyes sparkling: "Give it back to me when you come back."

Joseph put the small bag into his coat pocket: "Okay."

Mary nodded, retreated to the top of the stairs, and said nothing more.

Joseph walked out of the kitchen and saw Tom already waiting in the backyard, carrying a bulging bundle on his back, his face beaming with barely suppressed excitement.

"Ready?"

"Ready!"

The two walked toward the manor gate.

As he passed the main building, Joseph stopped and looked up at the three-story stone building.

"Goodbye," he whispered, though he didn't know who he was saying it to.

Then he turned and strode away.

"Joseph! Hurry up!" Tom shouted from the front.

"They're here!"

Two young people walked along a country road, their figures gradually disappearing into the morning mist.

Behind them, Exeter Manor still stood quietly, as if nothing had happened.

But for Joseph Lyndon, the old world was over.

A new world awaits ahead.

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

Aldershot Training Camp.

After half a day by train and carriage, Joseph and Tom finally arrived at their destination.

Aldershot is a major training base for the British Army, located about 60 kilometers southwest of London. It houses dozens of barracks and can train tens of thousands of soldiers simultaneously.

Even at this size, it still appeared extremely crowded during this recruitment frenzy.

Outside the camp gate, hundreds of new recruits had gathered, all of them newly arrived. Some were dressed in respectable suits, some in patched-up work clothes, and some were even wearing farmers' coarse cloth clothes.

The only thing they had in common was that they were all young, full of expectations, and unaware of what awaited them ahead.

"Everyone! Line up! Stand in the order of your recruit numbers!"

A sergeant stood on the platform and roared, his voice so loud it seemed to shake the entire camp.

Joseph and Tom squeezed through the crowd, found the sign that read "17th Infantry Division," and stood in line.

Surrounding him were new recruits, about a hundred in total, who had also been assigned to the same division.

There were workers, farmers, shop assistants, students—people from all walks of life.

The only thing missing was nobility.

The sons of nobles do not train with commoners. They have their own military academies, specialized courses, and preferential treatment.

These civilian recruits would be crammed into crowded barracks, dressed in rough uniforms, subjected to rigorous training, and then sent to the front lines to become part of the war machine.

"Listen up, recruits!" The sergeant stepped to the front of the ranks, his cold gaze sweeping over each soldier. His name was Harris, a veteran of the South African War. A scar running from his brow to his jawline gave him a particularly menacing look. "From this moment on, you are no longer workers, farmers, shop clerks, or any other such worthless status. You have only one identity: British Army soldiers!"

"Over the next period of time, I will train you into soldiers capable of fighting! I will teach you how to shoot, how to bayonet, how to march, and how to obey orders!"

"But!" his voice suddenly rose, "If any of you feel you can't take it, think the army is too tough, and want to go home to your mother—get out now! Because once training starts, there's no turning back!"

No one moved.

Everyone stood ramrod straight, and although many people's eyes showed tension, no one backed down.

"Very good!" Sergeant Harris nodded in satisfaction. "Looks like you're not cowards after all. Well then, welcome to hell! I'll show you what real training is all about!"

"Of course," he paused, a cold smile playing on his lips, "if you're lucky enough to make it to the day you board the ship, you'll be able to go to France and experience true hell."

"Now! Everyone! Go to the warehouse over there and collect your equipment! Hurry! I only have ten minutes!"

The crowd immediately surged toward the warehouse.

"Joseph! Hurry up!" Tom shouted from the front.

"They're here!"

Joseph quickened his pace to catch up with the group.

Inside the warehouse, several soldiers were distributing equipment.

A khaki military uniform, a pair of leather boots, a soft hat, a belt, a backpack, a water bottle, and a set of cutlery.

[System Prompt]

Main quest completed: Join the British Expeditionary Force

Reward: 50 points

Current points: 100

Before Joseph could even think carefully about what he could buy with 100 points, Harris's roar rang out again.

"Recruits! Assemble!"

"Now, I'm going to teach you your first lesson: what it means to obey orders! Everyone! Run! Run ten laps around the camp! Anyone who doesn't finish won't get dinner tonight!"

More than a hundred new recruits began running, their footsteps echoing across the training field.

Joseph followed the crowd, his steps steady and his breathing even.

Tom, standing beside him, was already panting: "This...this is only the first day...and it's already this brutal?"

"You'll get used to it," Joseph said. "This is just the beginning."

"start?!"

"The real hell awaits ahead."

Tom swallowed hard, but gritted his teeth and kept running.

As the sun sets, the shadows on the training field grow longer and longer. The distant barracks are bathed in golden light, and the recruits run through the twilight. The scene is almost magnificent, if one ignores their panting and disheveled state, and the future they are about to face.