My name is Maxine Caulfield. I was born on September 20, 1895, in Arcadia Bay, Oregon. It was a small town, but I was able to move to Seattle and get a higher education. I studied foreign languages, such as Spanish, French, and German. After high school, I decided to visit England with my friends in 1913. Many Germans lived in England, so I quickly became known as a translator in the German part of London. I guess that meant I wasn't supposed to be surprised when the War started. When the Austrian archduke, Franz Ferdinand, was shot in Sarajevo. When the Austro-Hungarian armies marched into Serbia. When the Germans cut a path through Belgium to invade France.

I was sent to the front lines as a translator. I myself cannot be mad at the British; I was, and still am, fluent in French and German. Although I was an American citizen, I was still sent to the trenches.

The trenches, my God, were unbearable. To this day, I still cannot figure out how or why those soldiers were able to endure the constant shelling and gunfire. God, the Fritz were relentless. I got to the point where the shells fucked up my hearing. Fucked to the point where the exploding shells made a lion's roar sound like a whisper.

But I was highly valuable for the Allied forces. If we intercepted a German message, I would translate. If someone needed to say something to a French soldier in the trench with us, I would translate. To the other soldiers, German words were gibberish. I was invaluable, indispensable. I got myself a high place of respect and trust in those trenches. I still ponder how many men's lives I have saved just by turning English into German.

There was one time, in particular, that I think changed my life forever.

It's December 24, 1914. Instead of being in a warm apartment on the Thames, I'm shivering in a cold, mucky, hastily-assembled trench. It doesn't help that it's snowing either. A soldier is walking down the trench, handing packages and letters to soldiers. Some got chocolate and cigarettes, others got heart-warming love letters from their girlfriends.

The man handed me a single letter, sent from London. I knew it was a friend, and I smiled when I opened the letter.

Dear Max,

If you're reading this, then I hope this is not the last one you will receive. I pray every night that you get to return safely when this dreadful war is over. I'm confident that you and the soldiers around you will kick the Fritz all the way to Berlin! May God be with you. Merry Christmas.

Love, Kate

This may be the first time I have genuinely smiled since I arrived. I noticed something else inside the letter, and I looked inside to see Kate's necklace. I was about to cry, but I didn't. Instead, I casually placed it around my neck and let the cross dangle over my heavy coat.

"Hey, Caulfield." Lieutenant Bishop came to me, and I stood up.

"Yes, sir?"

"Caulfield, you're not a soldier. No need to call me sir. If anything, you're higher ranking than me." I sighed in relief and loosened up a bit.

"I never knew 'translator' was higher than 'lieutenant'."

"In these trenches, it is." Bishop replied, "So, what're your plans should the Fritz storm this trench?" I looked around and saw a lone rifle. I picked it up, or I tried to. I didn't realize how heavy these things were.

"Well, I'm gonna defend myself. It's not murder if the guy you kill is trying to kill you." He patted my shoulder.

"That's the spirit!" He said enthusiastically. Truly, it was a large possibility that they could storm this trench. I always tense up whenever they're not shelling us, "Maxine, is something wrong?" His words snapped me into reality, and I realize what caused my little trance: a faint, deep singing. I get close to the edge of the trench, but I don't peek over. Yet I can clearly hear the Germans singing Christmas carols.

"Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht, Alles ist ruhig, alles ist hell. Runde yon Jungfrau Mutter und Kind. Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar, Schlaf im himmlischen Frieden. Schlaf im himmlischen Frieden." They're singing 'Silent Night', there's no question.

I began to sing along in English, and many in the trench soon followed. This was an extraordinary sight: two armies singing Christmas carols despite trying to kill each other just days earlier.

Christmas morning, 1914. My back hurts, my feet hurt, my neck hurts. Everything hurts. I'm just thankful I haven't gotten trench foot yet. I opened my eyes to see many soldiers looking over into No Man's Land. I got curious when I realized no one was getting shot by a sniper, so I looked as well. What used to be the gray, crater-filled wasteland is now covered in a blanket of white, soft snow.

"Isn't it amazing, Caulfield?" Bishop asked in awe after peeking over.

"It may be a Christmas miracle." Another soldier stated. I grabbed a pair of binoculars and looked at the German trench. They were doing the same thing as us: lookin into this miracle that makes us forget we were even at war.

I put one foot on the ladder.

"Maxine, what're you doing?"

I got a much better view of the wasteland.

"Hey, Caulfield!"

I put my hands in the air as I felt the snow crunch under my boot. The Germans and the soldiers behind me were all freaking out. I saw multiple Germans raise their rifles. But the loud voice of a woman stopped them.

"Halt! Sie hat keine Waffe! Senken Sie Ihre Waffen!" She sounded to be in a panic. A woman came out of the German trench with her hands up. She has a Red Cross on her shoulder, so I can only assume she is a nurse. Her appearance intrigued me as she has blue highlights. As we got closer to each other, we put our hands down and we heard soldiers coming out of the trenches.

We were two feet away from each other when I broke the silence.

"Hallo, ich heiße Maxine."

"Ich heiße Chloe."

"Schön dich zu treffen, Chloe." We both smiled as I shook her hand. Other soldiers began to greet each other as well. Some traded things like candy for cigarettes. Others shared stories from back home. Occasionally, a British soldier and German soldier would reunite, as many Germans lived in Britain before the war.

I told Chloe about how I was from America and it was my job to translate. She stated how she lost her father as a teenager.

"Es tut mir leid, das zu hören."

"Du musst dich nicht entschuldigen, Maxine."

"Bitte rufen Sie mich an Max." In honesty, I hate being called Maxine. I just put up with Bishop because he's a military official, and he's not used to informality.

"Okay, Max."

"Warten Sie, können Sie Englisch sprechen?"

"Nein, nicht viel."

"Nun, vielleicht kann ich dir beibringen." I wrapped an arm around her and she smiled. We were startled by a whistle. We all turned to Bishop, who dropped something onto the ground. He smiled. It's a football. The men all laughed and began to take their coats off. Chloe and I stepped to the side as the Brits and the Fritz battled in a game of football.

"Nicht nennen sie es 'soccer', wo Sie sind?"

"Ja, so machen wir das in Amerika." We both rounded up some of the nurses and formed a little group. While they mostly talked about the cute soldiers, Chloe and I were focused on the game. Since I was neither British nor German, I didn't really care, but whenever the Germans scored, Chloe lit up like the Fourth of July. Seeing her so happy makes me smile. It helps me realize that despite the fact of our nations being at war, we still think of ourselves as more than soldiers.

Much, much more than just a soldier. We're human beings. And this day, we treat each other not as enemies, but as friends.

At the end of the day, we began to pack our things and go back to the trenches. We were able to share some of our rations, which can keep our soldiers and theirs going for a while. I walked up to Chloe and tried to be cheerful. It's very hard to be cheerful knowing that the same men who played football hours ago are going to start killing each other tomorrow.

"Chloe, ich möchte dir etwas geben." I quickly ran into the trench in search of my bag. When I found it, I immediately came back out and ran towards her. I opened the bag and pulled out a book. Although I'm fluent in German, there are still some words that are regional, meaning they are only spoken in a specific region in Germany. Just in case, I always have a German-to-English book, along with many others. I took out the German-to-English book, "Nimm das. Wenn Sie Freizeit haben, können Sie dies lesen. Es ist offensichtlich, dass ich nicht in der Lage, Sie Englisch in Person zu lehren, so dass ich dachte, dies wäre genug."

She took the book and I was startled when she almost tackled me. She gave me a big bear-hug, "Vielen Dank, Max."

"Ich meine, es ist Weihnachten. Es ist das Mindeste, was ich tun konnte." I replied. We broke the hug and I saw a tear streaming down her cheek. I wiped it off her face, "Frohe Weihnachten, Chloe."

"Frohe Weihnachten, Max." She replied before we both walked back to our trenches. Before I got in, I looked behind me. All I see is Chloe, looking back at me with her new book in hand. I smiled once again. I've smiled more today than I have in the past two months!

I hopped into the trench, wondering if I shall ever see Chloe alive again.

I know it's a bit late, but I wanted to do something special for Christmas. I apologize if the German translation is a bit inaccurate, since I used Google Translate. I am working on the next chapter of Life Until Dawn and I hope to get it out before the end of January. I know I left it at sort of a cliffhanger, so if y'all want me to continue the story, let me know! I hope you all have had a wonderful Christmas and have a happy New Year! - VW