PruCan: Love is War 1

Zee time vas Vorld Var Vone.
It was 1916.
Belgium was now captured by Germany as he continued his raid through to Paris. The Allied countries fought back on the Western front. To the east, Russia pushed the war along as well, reeking havoc on East Prussia. There was turmoil on all sides of Europe. With the countries dept to Belgium, the United Kingdom had troops pouring in from the north to the Western Front. England had also demanded the aid of Allies overseas. Unfortunately, the aid fell short by one. The United States of America refused to yet take part in this war.
But Canada did.
Only the last year, Canada had participated in his first battle. It was at the second battle of Ypres, the first battle where Germany had introduced his newest weapon, mustard gas. The Canadian troops were the only soldiers to stand against it and many were lost.
This year, Canada was on his way to his next battle at Somme, a river in France. He'd be alongside Britain but still couldn't help but wonder why his brother wouldn't help.

Arthur and Matthew sat in their newly dug trenches discussing their approach on the conflict. It was dark now, the trenches were cold and uncomfortably foreboding.
Silence had fallen on the Canadian, the pressure of what was to come weighing upon him. He was with Newfoundland's regiment, trustworthy soldiers. Newfoundland was a great guy. It wasn't sure whether he'd wanted to take part but he was loyal. Many of the provinces were quite propelled to serve the war, most enthusiastically British Columbia, though the chances were his fetish towards idolising Britain drove him. Yes, B.C. was extremely motivated.
Unlike Quebec.
No, Quebec wanted nothing to do with the war. He cared not for England and had felt no more ties to France. It was, in his words, translated, not his war.
But the soldier count was low and if more died and Quebecois didn't replace them, drastic measures would have to be taken.
"We'll attack…er…in lines," Arthur was explaining to Matthew drawing his finger a few times across a map of the area, "If we confront The Germans like that, we may have great success."
Matthew hadn't truly been listening, but he'd caught one word that bothered him extremely.
"'May'?" he intoned, "We 'may' have success? You're not sure?"
"Well," said Arthur said scratching the ground, "It worked the last time I tried it…"
"When was that?"
"Actually, that's how I almost always do it," Arthur said, "Seems to work."
"'Seems'?"
"Sometimes it doesn't, alright?" Arthur admitted, "But it's the best idea we've got."
Matthew snickered. "Well, if I was in charge—"
"—Well, you're not!" Arthur said, "I am and this is what we're doing! Lines! Tell the provinces."
Matthew obeyed reluctantly, moving slowly down to where the soldiers were bunked.
New Brunswick had sprung up a game of cards to uplift the mood, and they all played solemnly. All but Quebec. He sat in a corner with his own pack of cards playing solitaire.
Matthew watched him for a few seconds, as the Quebecois skillfully moved his cards around. He had the best shot among the provinces, his soldiers almost gifted, but he refused full participation.
He wasn't the only one of ill mood. All the provinces grieved. The battle at Ypres was brutal. The toxic gas was unexpected. Many losses. A few soldiers had started to doubt the friendship between the European Allies and Canada the way both France and England had more or less ran off when the mustard gas had flooded in. Canada had been left, without orders, to fend for himself.
"Listen up," Matthew started out loud. Ontario, New Brunswick, and Newfoundland snapped their heads up to listen. Others weren't as fast. British Columbia had been watching and waiting for orders since the second Matthew walked in. Quebec didn't look up.
"Britain has given us the combat plan," Matthew continued. He explained their orders.
"Lines again?" Ontario asked.
"Yes."
"He always uses lines…"
When Matthew was confident that everyone understood what was to proceed their card game, he made his way back up to the trenches. Arthur met him up there.
He put a hand on Matthew's shoulder. "My troops are getting ready. We'll head out in the morning. How are your men?" Arthur asked.
"The battle coming to hand has rekindled their mourning," Matthew said looking down, "And they don't like lines…"
Arthur shook Matthew's shoulder sympathetically. "You were so brave. I am deeply regretting leaving you alone out there. I am so sorry. But I, and Francis, too, we'll always remember how formidably you withstood throughout the gas. I'm so proud."
Matthew looked into Arthur's eyes and frowned.
"Many of my men remain blinded. Six thousand other men died, "Matthew said, "Six thousand. Dead."
"Mattie, in a war like this, six thousand," Arthur said, eyebrows furrowed, "Is a small number."