[ WP ] Time travel exists , and a new form of capital punishment is introduced : Transporting the convict back to the worst , practically unsurvivable , places in human history to find yourself in . You are such a convict , and just got sent back . You will do anything to try and survive .

After the intense disorientation of the temporal displacement event began to fade, I felt wet. All around me, wet. The ringing in my ears slowly faded to white noise, almost like rain but far more intense than any rain I had ever heard. Then a flash, and what must have been thunder, and I realized I was not blind and deaf, I was caught in a rainstorm. I tried to push myself up, but my hands had no purchase and I fell on my face in what felt like old oatmeal. Finally I managed to push myself into a semblance of a sitting position, and at that moment the land around me lit in an eerie glow. 
 
 All around me, through the rain, I saw a ghostly landscape more akin to a moon or asteroid than anywhere on Earth I had seen. Barren, cratered, lit by a harsh light floating above. Then there were two lights, then three, then all around me noise, chaos, fire and violence. I struggled to my feet, but they would not come free from the morass that I now recognized as mud.I struggled, began to panic. I had sunk up to my ankles, and each time I tried to pull one foot free, the other just sank further. Above me, flares sputtered out and new replaced them. Explosions grew closer until I thought my eardrums would burst, then fell further and further away. Long moments past with more flares and explosions, some distant, some close, until I finally saw some figures silhouetted in the distance moving towards me. 
 
 I called, I yelled, I hollered for help in every language I knew. I think one turned towards me and pointed, then the last flare went out and I was blind but for the flashes of explosions.I have always had an excellent sense of time, but as the rain fell and the explosions crept closer and I felt myself slowly sliding down into the mud, now past my knees, it could have been hours or a matter of minutes. Finally, another flare revealed the forms of my saviors. I am no historian, but I know a few things about war. As their features slid between shadow and half-light, it was clear these men were soldiers. From what war, I could not say. As they drew near, the flare dimmed and died, and the explosions became less frequent and more distant. Even the rain slowed to a soaking mist. 
 
 The soldiers spoke in quiet voices as they crept along. I wondered how they managed to stay clear of the mud until I heard the distinct sound of a boot on wood. They must have a walkway though this mire. By the time I could distinguish their voices to hope to understand their words, I was halfway up my hips in mud. English, but an accent I did n't recognize and could barely decipher. Still, I called out to them for help. 
 
 `` Pipe down, chap. You'll draw Gerry's guns on us, you will.'' One, slightly taller than the others, called over to me. A quiet deliberation between them did not reach my ears, but they left the safety of their walkway and carefully made their way to my position. The explosions had ceased, and only a distant flare lit the landscape. I heard the squelches of the men as they came closer, until they were beside me. `` Alright, let's see what we can do.'' There were four of them. Two positioned themselves on each side of me, and they hooked their rifles under my soldiers. `` No squirming, now. We'll lift you free if we can.'' 
 
 The tall one counted to three under his breath, and I gripped the rifles with white knuckles. The soldiers strained and grunted, and I felt myself lift a few inches from the morass. Then some shifting as they sought better footing, another count and again they lifted. One slipped, and the rifle butt cracked him on the head as he fell. He went down in a heap, and his comrades tried to rouse him to no avail. He was out cold. The tall one glanced at his squadmates in the dim light, then looked at me sadly. `` Sorry chap, we ca n't risk being mired ourselves. Jack's knocked himself senseless, we'll need to get him out before we're all stuck. No worries though, we'll send help when we reach the aid station.'' 
 
 I knew when they strapped me in the machine that I would face death, but it was n't until I heard the tone of his voice that I truly understood. I had known I was helpless for some time. Now I was hopeless. The soldiers turned to go, and I called out `` Please, you've got a pistol there. Can I borrow it? Just to protect against Gerry? Just until the aid station can send help?'' 
 
 Another flare went up, this one closer. The tall one turned and I saw his eyes clear enough to see this was a man who had n't just faced death, he had given up hope of living. He hesitated a moment as his comrades slogged to the safety of the walkway, then pulled the heavy revolver from his belt and tossed it to me. `` Good luck, mate.'' He turned again. 
 
 `` Wait! Tell me the name of this place. Before you go.'' The soldier turned back yet again. I expected to see confusion on his face, but instead I saw only resignation. `` Passchendaele.'' 
 
 The soldier faded along with the flare, and I was left in darkness. I heard sporadic gunfire, and more explosions, but all felt distant. The word, the name of the place held no meaning for me. I felt the heavy weight of the revolver as I slowly sank into the mud. Nearly past my hips now. I decided to wait until dawn, or until I sank up to my chest. Whichever came first. Then I would carry out the death sentence that had sent me here.
