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Post by celticgirl91 on Jun 5, 2010 21:54:44 GMT -5
It was Christmas Eve, 1915. George Donaldson should have been at home, getting ready for Christmas Eve Mass with his family. That’s where he should have been. Instead, he was in his tent getting ready to go onto a battlefield. “You going out again?”, his friend, Keith Harkin called as George came out of his tent. “Yeah”, George sighed. “They called in reserves” Keith grinned. “Just think, tomorrow we get a day off” “If I make it to tomorrow”, George said good naturedly. It was a fact of army life. The fact that everytime someone left for the battlefield, they might not come back. It wasn’t something that was joked about, really. But it was something that was always there and something they weren’t afraid to talk about. Keith came over to him. “If you don’t make it, that would totally ruin my Christmas, mate. You know that, right?” George nodded. “Until we meet again, then?” Keith smiled. “Until we meet again” George clapped his friend on the back and started walking to where the rest of the ranks were lining up. “Until we meet again, George!”, Paul Byrom, another close mate, called from outside his tent. George waved back and called out the farewell phrase that was commonly used amoungst the troops. They all knew the dangers. Knew that the possibility of a friend not coming back was very great. So instead of long, teary farewells everytime someone left for the battlefield, because someone was always leaving, friends would just say that phrase as a goodbye and say a quick prayer that they would be okay. Of course, not everyone came back. George couldn’t count how many times he had said that farewell to a friend, only to hear later that they didn’t make it. But that was the point of the phrase. “Until we meet again.” It didn’t mean goodbye forever. It was just goodbye until it was his own time to die, whenever that might be. That’s not to say that George was unaffected when a friend died, on the contrary, it tore him to pieces. But he couldn’t do anything about it. He just had to carry on, keep living, keep fighting. George thought of his family back home. His beautiful wife, Carrie, and their amazing daughter, Sarah. They were probably getting ready for Mass right about now. And oh how George wanted to be with them. He didn’t want to be marching into battle… he wanted to be back at home, shooing his daughter to bed, promising many presents from ‘Santa’ in the morning. “Hey George!”, a voice called. George turned around to see young Damian McGinty running up to him. “Hey Damo”, he greeted. “They sent you in too?” “Yep. Appearantly they don’t care that it’s a holiday” “They called a truce for tomorrow”, George reminded the young lad. It broke George’s heart every time he saw Damian getting ready to go into battle… he was only 17. He had his whole life ahead of him. He should be home, flirting with the girls, not here. “Well, at least we get Christmas off”, Damian was smiling. He was always smiling, always happy. “So what do you think our chances are?”, he asked George. This was another little routine the troops had. Analyzing their chances of surviving that round. George thought for a moment. “It’s the end of the day, Christmas Eve, they’re all tired. I’d say the chances are pretty good” “One can only hope”, Damian grinned. Just then, the commander called for them to line up. “So, until we meet again?”, Damian looked at George. George nodded. “Until we meet again”
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Post by celticgirl91 on Jun 7, 2010 0:01:35 GMT -5
The next day was Christmas. George woke up in his tent, thankfull that he had made it through the fighting last night, and even more thankful that he didn’t have to go out again that day. As he walked out of his tent, George felt that something was off. Something was wrong… but what? “Morning George!”, Ryan Kelly, another friend called out. “Merry Christmas! It’s weird, isn’t it? Not hearing gun shots” And then… George knew what was wrong. It was too quiet… the sounds of gun fire and battle cries were gone, replaced with a strange, eerie silence. “Merry Christmas, Ryan”, George said, looking around. “It’s almost TOO quiet” Ryan laughed. “Aye, you’re right. Come on, everyone’s by the fire.” He led George past a few tents to where their other 3 friends were sitting. “Merry Christmas!”, George cried out, joyfully. “Merry Christmas!”, Paul, Keith, and Damian all called out to him. George sat down on the muddy ground and propped himself up against a bag of sand. “Nice bandage, George”, Paul commented, pointing to the guaze wrapped around George’s arm. “Is that a present from the German’s?” George glanced at the wound. “Yea, it’s not my favorite Christmas present of all time, but it’s not my worst either” “I think the German’s gave Damo the best present”, Keith slagged, pointing to Damian’s broken arm. Damian laughed. “Hey, it keeps me out of the fighting for a while, so I’d say it’s a pretty nice one” “Yea, the German’s just gave you a couple week’s vacation”, Paul grinned. “I’ll say that’s a good present” George laughed with the others and got a crumpled piece of paper and a pencil from his pocket. “You writing home?”, Ryan asked. George nodded. “Aye, I thought I’d send them a bit of Christmas cheer” “What did you get Sarah?”, Damian asked. “Don’t know”, George shrugged. “That’s what I’m asking.” Paul sighed. “I should write Dom. Hey George, you have any more paper?” “Not on me. You can have some from my tent later” Keith had an amused look on his face as he pulled out a bottle of whiskey. Keith always had a bottle of the stuff around somewhere. George didn’t know where he got it, but then, he didn’t really want to know. “I don’t know how you two do it. I wouldn’t want to have a girl back home, not knowing if I’ll ever see her again”, Keith joined the conversation. “I figure it’s not really fair to her. I mean, it’s bad enough for me mum, da, and sis” George sat up and took the bottle from Keith. “If I didn’t have Carrie, I wouldn’t want to go on living”, he took a swig from the bottle. “Her and Sarah are the only things keeping me alive out there. Damian sat back, looking thoughtfull. “Women are over rated”, Ryan spoke up, taking the bottle from George. “She knows every move, she knows every trick. She lies, plays games… she pretty much enslaves you!” “And I wouldn’t want to be enslaved by anyone else”, George smiled, thinking of his wife. Ryan rolled his eyes. Just then, a sound came from the distance. “What’s that?”, Damian asked. “It sounds like crying”, Keith said. Paul whacked him on the arm. “It’s not crying, it’s singing” And he was right. It WAS singing. “Is that Neil?”, George asked, thinking of another soldier. “Nah… the voice isn’t right”, Damian decided. Everyone was still for a moment, listening. “I think it’s a German”, Keith said, sitting up. Paul sat up as well. “It’s a tenor. He’s singing from no man’s land.” “How do you know he’s a tenor?”, Keith asked. Paul just looked at him. “I’M a tenor. We know these tings” And as soon as Paul pointed it out, George heard it as well. A German, with a tenor voice, pure and true. Keith coughed. “Well… this is different”
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Post by celticgirl91 on Jun 8, 2010 10:49:05 GMT -5
Ryan sat quietly, quite unsure what to do. Like the other lads, he was kind of at a loss. There was a German, a TENOR German as Paul so kindly pointed out, singing a very familiar tune. “What’s he singing?”, Damian asked. “Silent Night”, George answered, quietly. What was a German singing for? And it was being sung quite loudly, as if the German wanted them to hear. “WHY is he singing?”, Ryan asked. Keith shrugged. “Maybe it’s a trick, to try and get us to come out.” Ryan had to agree. “It’s a good plan then. They sing to get us to go see what the heck’s going on, them bam! We’re dead” Damian looked from hom to Keith, his bright eyes curious. “But, we have a treaty. They can’t do anything to us today” “It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s broken a treaty, mate”, Paul reminded the young lad. Ryan listened again, althoughhearing and knowing the melody, he didn’t recognize the words. It made sense though, as the words were in German. “It’s weird, isn’t it?”, he asked. “The words are strange, yet we know every note” Keith just looked at him. “The song’s being sung in German” “Yea, but-“ “How are you gonna know the words when they’re in a different language?”, Keith continued, a little out of it because of the alcohol. Ryan shook his head. “Nevermind, go back to your beer.” He wasn’t even going to bother. “I think I know what you mean”, George said thoughtfully. “It’s weird how one song can connect us. Even if the words are different, the meaning is the same.” “Exactly!”, Ryan exclaimed, thankful that someone had understood what he was trying to say. “I mean, seriously, don’t you feel different somehow?” Paul nodded, looking thoughtful as well. “It’s like they’re human too.I feel a little less eager to kill them now.” Damian nodded. “Aye, me as well” The lads all grew quiet, listening. And still, the German was singing. His voice was loud, clear, and almost better than Paul’s. Ryan chuckled a bit, imagining what his friend’s reaction to that would be. “What?”, George caught his smile. Ryan cleared his throat. “Nothing” The German’s voice soared over the hills and across the battle lines. Ryan thought about all that had gone on on those battle fields, and how the Tenor’s choice in song was almost symbolic. He sang a song of peace. And this song of peace soared over a place that was the exact opposite. His song floated over the dead, the soon to be dead, and the living that would kill. It was ironic. “He’s singing about peace”, Ryan commented to the others. “Do you really think he wants it? Do they really want to fight? Or are they like us and are only here cus they have to be” Keith pushed himself up. “Since when are you so insightful? What happened to Mr. I Don’t Have Anyone To Go Back To, So Let’s kill?” Ryan scoweled. “I never said that.” Sure he didn’t have a girlfriend, and he didn’t want one. He thought girlfriend’s were a waste of time. You had to woo them and romance them, just to get them to the same place as you would have them be otherwise. It was easier and a lot less hassle just to be charming for a night. But all that didn’t mean that he didn’t want to go home. “Ryan’s right”, Damian spoke up. “Maybe they don’t want to fight either. Seriously, that German’s making a peace offering. And it’s working. I mean, do you lads really want to kill them now?” “What if Keith was right before?”, George asked. “It might be a trick” Ryan shrugged. “So what do we do?”
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Post by celticgirl91 on Jun 10, 2010 1:40:52 GMT -5
What to do, indeed. Paul thought as they all sat there in the mud. Keith had a very valid point. This German could just be waiting for them to come out. Suddenly, Declan, another soldier ran up to them. “They came out of their trenches! People are talking about going out to see them” All the lads just looked at him. “Are they bloody insane?”, Paul asked. Because, it seemed to him, that they were. Going out to meet the enemy? They were going to get killed! Declan just shrugged. “That’s what they’re talking about. He did sing a song of peace, didn’t he?” “Are they armed?”, Ryan asked. Declan shook his head. “Not to our knowledge.” Then he ran off to tell the other tents. “Well, what do you think?”, Ryan asked after a pause. “I think it’s a good idea”, George replied. Paul didn’t know what to think. In a way, it seemed like a good idea. In another, it seemed like a suicide mission. “I think we should go”, Damian spoke up. Paul looked at him. “We could get killed” Damian turned to him. “Remember what Ryan said? They probly don’t want to be here just like the rest of us. I think they want to stop fighting” “What about what I said?”, Keith asked. Damian just shrugged, not really having an answer. Paul turned to George. “What do you think?”, he asked. George thought for a minute. “They DID come out first. And they don’t have weapons…” Paul nodded, thinking. Both Ryan and George He took a deep breath. “Well, what could it hurt? Besides getting killed, that is” The lads all chuckled a bit at that and Damian stood up. “So, let’s go” Paul laughed. It was almost as if the kid was looking for danger. Paul stood up as well, as did George and Ryan. “You coming, Keith?”, he asked. Keith sighed and stood up, leaving the whiskey. “Well, if you’re all dying, I might as well die with ya” “That’s a lad”, Paul clapped him on the shoulder. And together, the 5 of them walked to the edge of the camp. There were a few cries of objection along the way, but also a few cheers. “You’re going to get killed”, Conor warned them as they passed. “Ah, we’ll be fine”, Ryan grinned at him. “Hey, if the German’s don’t kill you, let the rest of us know so we can come party too”, Neil grinned up at them from his place on the ground. Paul laughed. “Sure thing, Neil” They all paused at the edge of the camp, as if they were all making sure they wanted to do this. It was a leap of faith, really. They would either survive, or die. What they were doing could either be considered brilliant, or stupid. Paul cleared his throat. “Well lads, untill we meet again.” And together, they all climbed out of the trench.
sorry this posts really short! but it had to be or it would have been too long! lol
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Post by celticgirl91 on Jun 11, 2010 19:23:07 GMT -5
There was a German standing out in the middle of the field, with his hands raised. There were 2 other Germans standing behind him. Damian followed behind as George led the 5 lads out onto the field. The Germans didn’t LOOK as if they were about to kill them, but they could all just be part of their plan. As they got closer, the 5 lads all put their hands up as well to show that they meant no harm. Soon, they were close enough that Damian saw smiles spread on the Germans faces, like flowers blooming in the spring. He took in their tin hats, and their dusty, worn out uniforms. They looked as weary as the other lads back at the camp. Thankfully, George knew some German, so he was the one to talk to them. After a few minutes of talking, George turned to the rest of the lads. “This is the Tenor we heard singing”, he pointed to the one standing in front. “His name is Milo and they aren’t here to trick us”, hesmiled at Keith. “Well, how was I supposed to know?”, Keith defended himself. “It was a possibility” Damian laughed, but Ryan put a hand on Keith’s shoulder. “Aye, it was, mate. I don’t blame ya” Damian stepped forward. “So, what do they want?”, he asked. Because if they didn’t want to fight… what were they doing out here? “They thought we could celebrate together”, George answered. “They have some wine back at their camp they want to bring out” Damian beamed. “Cool! Keith can go get his stash of whiskey as well” “Now wait a minute”, Paul spoke up. “It’s one thing to walk out here and offer a friendly handshake, but to celebrate? This is the enemy!” “They’re not going to hurt us, Paul”, Ryan said in a patient tone. “That’s not the point”, Paul argued. “It’s the principle of the matter” Damian stood back and let the others argue it out. He never got into important discussions such as these. Oh he gave his opinion, sure. But when it came down to it… they always did what they thought best anyway. To Damian, it seemed exciting to spend Christmas with the Germans. They didn’t mean any harm, at leats not for today. While the others were still talking, Damian walked over to the three strangers. “Hello”, he smiled and put out his hand. “I’m Damian” The one named Milo shook his hand and smiled. “Milo”, introduced himself. Then he pointed to the other two behind him, “Edaward, Dresden” Damian grinned. “Hey! So, how’s your Christmas going?” He didn’t know if they could understand him or not, but he figured trying to make conversation couldn’t hurt. Milo grinned and said something in German that sounded like, “Merry Christmas” Just then, George came up behind Damian and put a hand on his shoulder. “Ryan and Keith went back to get the others and to get Keith’s whiskey supply” Damian chuckled. “So Keith decided to share then? Well, this is a first. Oh, this is Edward and Dresden”, he pointed to the other two Germans. George smiled and spoke to them in German and Paul came up to introduce himself. One of the Germans took out a cigar and offered it to the 3 lads. Paul accepted, but George shook his head, laughing and saying something in German. This made all 3 of the former enemies laugh and the one named Edward spoke back, seeming interested. “What?”, Damian asked. George turned to him. “I told them that I would, but my wife made me stop when we married and would have my head if she found out” This made Paul and Damian laugh as well and Edward pulled out a photo from his pocket and showed it to George. George, in turn, pulled out the photo of his family that he always had on him and the two got into a very intense discussion. Dresden took out another cigar and offered it to Damian. At first, Damian was taken aback, but then Paul laughed. “Oh come on, Damo”, he said. “Join in the craic” Damian had never smoked before, but he figured now was as good a time as any. He WAS 18 after all. He took the cigar from Dresden and lit it up. And besides, it was Chistmas.
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Post by celticgirl91 on Jun 13, 2010 19:40:29 GMT -5
What was Paul doing? If someone had told him yesterday that he’d be spending Christmas with the enemy, drinking wine and having a cigar, he’d have told them that they’d stolen too much of Keith’s whiskey. It went against everything he’d been taught. Maybe even considered conspiracy if the wrong people found out. But for some odd reason… Paul was okay with this, okay with befriending the Germans. Besides, one of them was a tenor. That was always a plus in his book. Just as it looked like they were all ready for a celebration, someone from the Germans side could be seeen walking toward them. All the men sat up and Milo said something in German that sounded like a curse, then the three started talking anxiously. “What is it?”, Damian asked. George was listening to the discussion intently, a small crease in his forehead. “It’s the commanding officer. They think he’s going to disapprove” Paul squinted at the approaching figure. No, him disapproving wouldn’t be good at all. The tall, strongly built man marched up to them and spoke one, short word in German. “Nun?” Dresden and Edward both looked to Milo, who began to quickly and quietly speak to the officer. Just then, “George! Paul, Damo!”, Keith’s voice could be heard. Paul turned to see Keith and Ryan leading about 10 of their fellow soldiers out onto the field. Nearly all of them either carried a bottle or an instrument. Paul groaned. This was NOT the best time to be bringing out the party supplies. He felt like a teenager who’s parents walked in on him goofing off when he should be working. He looked at George and Damian, who had the same look on their faces. The three German soldiers didn’t look worried though. They just continued talking to the officer in a calm tone. Keith and Ryan came up to them, looking curious. “What’s this?”, Ryan asked. Damian sighed. “The Germans are deciding whether or not to kill us. Nothing new” “The commander wants to know what they’re doing”, George answered. The commander looked at them. “I’m telling my men that this a foolish idea”, he said in an accented voice. Paul blinked. “You speak english then?” The commander rolled his eyes. “Of course I do. We were told to cease fire, not to celebrate together.” “Ah, but why not?”, Keith spoke up. “I have nothing against you personally. And since I can’t kill you, why not drink with you?” Paul grinned. “The lad does have a point” “So why not join us?”, Ryan put in. The commander thought for a moment and Edward said something to him. This caused a short conversation between the four of them, ending in Edward and Dresden running off and Milo grinning. “What?”, Paul asked. George turned to him, a smile on his face. “They’re going to get more troops and more wine” “I just hope my superiors don’t find out”, the commander said. “My name is Conrad by the way” The lads all introduced themselves, including the 10 newcomers. Milo was looking at their playing instruments as if he had stepped into a gold mine. And Paul knew why. He walked over and stood beside him. “So, you’re a tenor then?”, he asked. Milo chuckled and said something that Paul didn’t understand. Then he motioned to Conrad. Conrad walked over, smiling now. “He wants me to translate. What did you say to him?” Paul had forgotten about that little barrier. He could tell that this was going to get a tad annoying, not being able to understand what was said. “I asked if he was a tenor”, Paul said to Conrad. “But that was only a conversation starter. I’m a tenor myself, so I recognized that he was the same.” Conrad translated and Milo’s eyes lit up. “How old is Milo?”, Paul asked Conrad. The young man looked just that, young. “He’s 21 and very excited to meet another tenor” Paul grinned. This fact alone made him feel as if he had met an old friend.
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Post by celticgirl91 on Jun 30, 2010 21:31:44 GMT -5
This was something Keith never thought that he would be doing. He was sharing his whiskey. Voluntarily. This was a first. But he supposed that this was a good thing. That and the fact that they were actually sitting with the Germans without killing each other. As he looked out over the field he saw the two other men called Dresden and Edward leading about 15 other soldiers back toward the group. “Uhh… are they supposed to be here?”, he asked. Paul looked up at the oncoming group. “Yea, it’s going to be a regular party, mate! And we all know how you love a party” Keith laughed and nodded. “Aye, I do” Just then, the group of Germans came up to them. Dresden said something in German, rattling off a bunch of names. Keith looked over the bunch of newcomers, noticing how a few of them were a bit beaten up. And even though he knew it shouldn’t be there, a small sense of satisfaction came to him. He was proud of his fellow soldiers, bloodying the enemy. But then it left. For today, they were friends. Nonetheless, he had a pleased little smile on his face as he walked over to them. “So, you’re a bit beaten up”, he said conversationally. Surprisingly, the German spoke back to him in English. “Just a bit. You don’t look to bad though” Keith blinked, taken off guard. “You’re speaking english” The German laughed. “I am. And so are you.” At Keith’s confused look, the German laughed again. “I’m one of the translators”, he explained in an accented voice. “Oh!”, Keith finally understood. “Yea, I’m not too bloddied up. Not as bad as Damo there, though”, he pointed to the young lad next to George. “You look pretty bad though” The German looked down at himself, assesing his wounds. “Yea, but it’s alright. They’ll heal. I’m Heinrich”, he held out his hand. Keith grasped his hand in a firm grip. “Keith. I’m sorry about that”, he pointed to Heinrich’s arm. “No hard feelings”, Heinrich smiled as Milo came up behind him and started saying something in German. Heirich laughed and turned to Keith. “He says your whiskey’s almost gone.” “What?!” This set both of the Germans to laughing. “He’s kidding!”, Heinrich said.”He loves the drink just as much as your friends say you do, so he knew that that would get you going.” Keith let out a breath and pushed the hair off his forhead. “Don’t scare me like that! I’m all out after that stuff is gone” Heinrich translated and Milo laughed and nodded sympathetically, starting to ramble something that Keith didn’t understand, but then he stopped suddenly and looked at Heinrich, a shocked and sad look on his face. “What?”, Keith looked between the two. Heinrich hesitated, gave Milo a look and sighed. “He started to say that you’re more than welcome to come get some of his in a few days, but then realized…” Oh. Right. Milo had realized that there wouldn’t be any ‘in a few days’ for them. The truce would only be lasting for a day. Tomorrow they would go back to being enemies and killing each other. This caused a feeling like a huge rock setting into Keith’s gut. “Oh… umm….”, he didn’t really know what to say to that. “Hey! Milo!”, Paul suddenly walked up to them. “Sing us another song!” Heinrich translated, but Milo shook his head, smiling. “Oh come on!”, Keith encouraged. “How’s one more song going to hurt?” Milo hesitated, then got a huge smile on his face. And sitting in the mud and blood and fear, he sang.
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Post by celticgirl91 on Jun 30, 2010 21:33:28 GMT -5
Milo started singing a song again in German. Like the last time, the words were strange, but Paul knew the tune as if he had written it himself. He let Milo sing the first verse, but then joined in the refrian. “Silent night, no cannons roar” “A king is born of peace forevermore”, the other lads joined in. “Alls calm, alls bright, all brothers hand in hand” “In 19 and 15 in no mans land”, Milo finished off by himself. Paul shivered from emotion of the song an its correlation to what they were doing. “That was amazing”, he finally said. The lads all nodded, and the field stayed quiet for a moment. But then one of the Germans said something and let out a whoot of celebration. The other Germans all cheered and the party continued. Instruments played and the chatter raised in volume. Paul looked around, knowing that he would never forget this moment. Ever. He laughed when he saw Neil trying to converse with a German without a translator, using his hands and trying to act out what he was trying to say. He felt the tears well up in his eyes when he heard Edward tell of his family at home and how much he missed them. Paul could understand. He missed Dom more than words could say. The party continued all day and halfway into the night. And when their little gathering finally broke up, it was reluctantly. Everyone was gathering their things slowly and Paul walked over to Milo. He didn’t see Heidrich or any of the other translators around, but that was alright. He didn’t need a translator for this. He walked over to Milo and put a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you”, he said simply. Milo nodded. “Danke” Paul turned with the other lads to head back to camp, but then looked back at Milo, who was still facing them. He looked as if he didn’t want to leave. “Untill we meet again”, he called. He knew that Milo couldn’t understand, but he didn’t care.
The next morning, it was raining. George pulled on his coat and hat, and grabbed his gun. It was another day at work, but at the same time, it felt different. He had made friends with the Germans, he didn’t want to kill them. But that’s what his job was, killing Germans. He reluctantly stepped outside, joining the other lads at the fire. “I’m calling in sick”, Keith muttered, crossing his hands over his chest. “If only we could” Damian mumbled. George could tell that the others were feeling just as he was. Why couldn’t the government settle this in a civilized manner? Why all the guns? Just then, Ryan walked up to them, looking very dejected. “Time to line up” And so silently, solomely, they all lined up. George tried to block everything out. No seeing, not hearing. For about 3 hours, in the rain, he shot and killed. He had to, he had no choice. Finally, after what seemed like days, they were given the command to retreat. The air was filled with smoke and George saw a dark figure running at him. He couldn’t make out his face, but he knew that this man was intent on getting to him. George aimed his gun and shot, just as the figure called out one word in German. “Peace!”, the call could be heard. And just as the smoke cleared, George saw Milo falling to the ground. “NO!”, he rushed forward despite his superior’s calls. He reached his fallen friend and knelt down beside him. But George was a trained soldier and Milo was unmoving. George felt the tears streaming down his face before he could hear the sobs ripping from his chest. Why hadn’t he waited? Why had he shot? Why had he killed the boy that sang from no man’s land?
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Post by celticgirl91 on Jun 30, 2010 21:36:11 GMT -5
“It wasn’t your fault, George”, Keith tried to calm the distraught Scotsman. It was 3 months later and George still felt bad about what he did. It was also time for the troops to head home. Their service was up. “I know”, George replied. “But I still feel horrible about it” “These things happen”, Ryan put in. “It’s a war.” He had been in shock when he had heard the news. Ryan could still see George’s face as he came in from the fields. The look of horror and depression had sent a shiver down Ryan’s spine. He had first thought that one of their closest mates had died. And he had been right. Even though he had been the enemy, Milo had been a friend. And now he was gone. Ryan felt the pain of that reality cut into his chest again. “I wonder if he had family”, Damian wondered aloud. He, himself, couldn’t wait to get home to his Mammy, Da, and other family members. He couldn’t imagine what Milo’s relatives must be going through. “He must have family somewhere”, Keith responded. “I wonder if we could contact them…” “Maybe. Even if it’s just to say we knew him”, Paul said. He was looking forward to getting home as well. He was planning on proposing to his girlfriend. “I think they would appreciate that”, George sighed. He picked up his bag and hoisted it over his shoulder. He had a train to catch. “Will I see you lads again?”, he asked. He really hoped he would. They had been through so much together… literally life and death. “Well, if Dom says yes to me, you better be at that wedding, mate!”, Paul cracked a smile. “You all better be there!” George laughed. “Aye, that I can do. When are the rest of yeu getting married?” The lads all laughed. “Maybe I’ll go get meself a German lass”, Keith half joked. He had never considered it before now… but that Christmas gathering had given him a better respect for Germans. “Good luck findin’ one that speaks English”, Paul laughed. “Unless you plan on havin’ a translator move in with ya”, Damian said. Ryan laughed. “George, I believe you’re the translator of the group. You wanna move in with Keith and his German bride?” “Wait, George has his own wife!”, Keith objected. “He doesn’t get two!” George grinned. “And I only want one anyway. But speaking of my wife… I’d like to get back home to her. So lads, until we meet again?” The lads all beamed. “Until we meet again” And with that, George walked off toward the station. It had been a very interesting journey. It had been one of laughter and tears, and one of joys and fears. He had changed during his time away, hopefully for the better. He had made new friends and had figured out the true meaning of living. But above all else, one day in particular stuck out in his mind, the day that his life had changed. He may forget a few fellow soldiers, and he prayed he would forget the sound of banging guns. But he knew that he would never forget the Tenor that had sung out. He would never forget the Christmas of 1915. The End www.youtube.com/watch?v=c5iDz8Ul_AQ&feature=related (this is a clip of the Germans and the Scotts singing together from WWI movie)
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Post by orinocoflow on Jul 1, 2010 0:13:59 GMT -5
that was sad! a creative twist on the song, but it made it even sadder. well written.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 1, 2010 0:37:23 GMT -5
*sniffle* Very sad, very nice...nicely written that is. I loved every post!
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