In the Trenches
January 1st, 1914
A/N: This short story was written about the Christmas Truce of World War One. After a spontaneous bout of music erupted back and forth between the two trenches, the leaders of the local regiment decided to call a truce. Some accounts of this say it lasted until New Years', which is when this story is set. This is, as it were, a one-shot, unless someone wants me to do something with it.
-._.`
Laughter rang out in the trench I shared with a few German and French soldiers as we told a few jokes around a small fire we'd built. We all knew it was only a matter of time before the fighting started again, so we were making the best of it while it lasted. Most of us are drunk - on thick German beer and Irish whiskey, or at least the little bits of it we could find. One French man even brought out a bottle of cheap champagne near the end our of our little party. The sound of metal clinking against glass could be heard as everyone downed their drinks.
The crackle of distant gunfire could be heard. Every soldier looked up at the dark, moonless sky, and what was about to happen was obvious. The Germans were collecting their items uneasily - sadly? - and the Brits and French continuing to drink as if nothing had happened, oblivious to the gunfire overhead - or perhaps simply denying it's existence.
Our Christmas Truce had come to an end. Some of these very soldiers - men I'd become friends with! - would be dead before the dawn lit the skies over the German trenches to the east. One man clapped me on the back, bearhugging me, and in broken English intoned, "Good luck, Irish man. Keep head down, no?"
-._.`
February 22nd, 1914
The tunnel was complete. Smiling, the British Major gathered his men in the cramped confines of the long tunnel - much to their discomfort - and began to speak. "Gentlemen, over the last several months we've been constructing this tunnel below the enemy trenches. It's time, now, to begin our assault. We'll push upwards and through the German lines, and finally break the stalemate we've been experiencing for so long. We'll be coordinated with dozens of similar attacks all along the trench line. Good luck, and godspeed." The Major paused, pushing the few Irishmen that happened to be present in front of him, recieving several glares. One of the Irishmen picked up a pickaxe, and at an uneasy nod from his comrade, broke through the last thin wall into the trench.
We took the Germans completely by surprise. I could see clearly the shock on one young man's face as I stabbed him in the heart with my bayonet. As he slid to the ground, tears in his eyes, I recognized him with a jolt; He was the same soldier that had hugged me and wished me good luck before he climbed out of our trench before the fighting continued. I stared at the blood trickling from the puncture in the man's chest, but before I had time to ponder the morality of what I'd just done, a German rifleman down the trench put three bullets into my heart.