Spring is the most lovely period of the year: the sun shines the blossoms bloom and spread their delicate and distinguished odours in the air. The sleepy bees remain in the nest, only a few of their dreamy sisters zoom around and are attracted by orchestra of smells, but by 1918 the perception of this annual, natural resurrection had changed drastically! The commoners and officers alike dreaded this period more than any other: the relative rest of the winter would be ripped apart by a renewed wave of attacks and counter strikes, just like the year before and the year before all back to that summer in 1914, for years of death and starvation in a new kind of war: the industrial attrition war. Like many of his people the German Empire had grown to hate this time of the year: he hated the deadly dance of nations more then he hated the enemy, yet this year a new wave of optimism had hit the German shores: peace with Russia! Germany felt that he deserved some celebratory rest in his manor near Vienna, where he could sit in the quiet loneliness of his spring garden, seated in a comfortable chair and scanning the printed word of any newspaper he could lay hands upon for irregularities and peculiar spellings.
Two pairs of walking feet disturbed his quiet rest. One, the heavier regular pace he recognized immediately: his loyal valet Mr Rädler, who had served him for about twenty years already. The second pair was different, lighter and definitely feminine, but with a strange masculine undertone, it was like this woman had put on her husband's boots for the day. The woman had the pace of an old woman or tired young person who did her best to remain upright. As the sound neared through the summerhouse Germany decided that whomever it would turn out to be he would send the wrongly shoed woman out as quickly as time would allow him.
"Das Königreich Belgien, mein herr," Mr Rädler said and cleared the way for the woman. Germany was startled, of all people he had not expected her! Germany observed the unexpected and rather unusual appearance of his newly arrived guest: she wore a heavy, but neat, khaki uniform that reminded him of England's, yet she had tried, probably only for this voyage, to add something feminine to it, and she had been successful: had it not been for the few medals, the four standard pockets at the front of the jacket and the overall texture and colour of the cloth this particular colonel might have been mistaken for a lady.
"I do wish he would say 'die'," Belgium spoke, clearly showing her annoyance while tilting her head shortly and surprisingly lady-like (at least as far as such a stir could be considered lady-like) in the valet's direction.
"He probably doesn't like you," Germany replied and greeted her by standing up, "please." Both sat down. He grinned a little.
"What?" she snapped, unhappily surprised at his sudden glee.
"I just remembered how well I know English," the Empire replied. She frowned. He saw she didn't understand: "I mean that die in English refers to a certain verb." She the grooves on her forehead grew deeper in understanding and she replied: "I do hope that this conversation will not continue on this track of selective translation, because I daresay the engine will soon fail, besides, the English die is pronounced completely different from the German die."
Germany decided to change the topic: "May one inquire to the cause of this rather unexpected visit?" He paused, yet she remained silent. "We are in a state of war, and last time I checked Austria-Hungary is also at war with you."
"Your informative is correct," Belgium replied, "if you know that simple truth then you will also another."
"And this other is your raison d'être ici?"
"Indeed, it is."
Germany paused and laid his chin on his folded hands and stared at her slender gloved hands that rested on the table. Then his eyes wandered from her hands, the hints of her breasts, her thin neck and finally her face: make up covered some scarring on her left cheek, but further it was immaculate. She had only sought to accentuate the prettiest parts of her face and hide the ugly parts. She wasn't a stunning beauty, but she wore her moderate prettiness with dignity and, perhaps, a little pride.
"Austria", he began, "is under a lot of pressure: his troops have not done as well as mine and he has lost many. The war has cost him more than any could have anticipated and this strains his marriage with Hungary."
"There is war-weariness in his heart," she mused, producing a faint smile.
"So are you alone then?" he asked.
"A lady never ought to travel alone," she stated matter of factly.
"That's not what I meant," Germany retorted, "is France with you, or England?" Belgium remained silent. He was genuinely surprised: "Dear me, you are trying to reach a separate peace trough Austria!"
"Why does that surprise you?" she asked.
"It doesn't," he lied, "I was merely surprised that you came to me, I'm not Austria."
"Unless," she hinted.
"Unless you've already been at Austria's and you pay me a visit to soften me up," he declared. She gave him a half smile.
" Indeed", she replied, "we're all under heavy pressure, don't you think there has already been enough suffering? My demands are not high," she argued, while toying with her French Legion d'Honneur medal that hung on a delicate collar.
"Mr Rädler, bring us some of that orange juice the cook prepared this morning, please, our guest is thirsty." The valet left the garden in a hurry, returning to the manor.
"No high demands, Belgium?" he replied in an almost whisper, "There are only two things you can want: an evacuation of your territory and a formal and factual recognition of your perpetual neutrality!"
"I don't see why it would be impossible, I could set an example for the others, I'm sure it would soften France up," Belgium replied, "and England would lose the moral high ground to fight on."
"Why on earth would I accept? I have the military advantage since I knocked Russia out of the war," Germany said, "Russia is neutral and evacuated but it didn't soften up France, it didn't often anyone at all!"
"With all due respect to your military capabilities, but Russia knocked himself out of the war by starting a revolution and overthrowing his democratic government, so evidently France wouldn't be impressed," she countered him.
"You talk of peace while all these victorious, fresh troops, hardened by battle and tribulations can give me a total victory."
"It didn't work in '14, '15, '16 and '17, why do you think 1918 will be different? If we continue to butcher our young men, we'll run out! Will you meet the others face to face before or after drafting all the rats of Germany and train them to attack France?" Belgium was quickly losing her temper, she begun gesticulating strongly and almost knocked the platter on which Mr Rädler carried the juice on the floor, but she paid no attention and stared angrily at Germany.
"Now you're being ridiculous, drafting rats, please! Things have changed between then and now, it is true that many died, but our tactics adapted, we have left the 19th century: I know how to deal with trenches now." Germany said, keeping his cool, he didn't like to be shouted at, especially not by a woman, but he reasoned that one of them ought to give the good example.
"This war needs to be over soon," Belgium began, trying to control her emotions now Mr Rädler was back, but her shaking hands told Germany she was failing, "and it would be better for Europe: this war must end with no victors and no future grudges, so we all can meet a new era of peace and prosperity! People call it the war to end all wars, well it should become the truth, I know Austria agrees with me."
"Be assured Belgium, the war will be over when I have won it and soon we can discuss anything you want."
"And you will handpick whatever resolution you want and make us all sign it, humiliating France and England and killing me," Belgium replied grimly.
"I have no intention to kill you but I don't want you to meddle in my affairs in the long run." Germany said benignantly.
"How so? Flamenpolitik? My dissolution last year? A Dutch speaking university in Ghent nobody wanted?"
"There is nothing that can't be undone, dear, but I daresay everybody wanted Ghent," Germany replied, his tone now approaching a vicious kindness.
"They want it from ME, because I am their nation! They might be Flemings or Walloon on the exterior, but they're still Belgian in their hearths."
Germany smiled, but said nothing.
"I want them to have it and gladly, but I'm not the government!" Belgium snapped, again losing her temper, her left hand now shaking considerably faster than her right hand, "You know perfectly well how little influence we have." Germany nodded.
"Back in the day," he began, "when the kings had the power, we had an important role to play."
"That's what everybody says, but have you ever seen a picture of a one of our predecessors? Did we even have any? Why are our memories of before blurred, can you remember the day you were born?"
"Nobody can remember that, you should know this part of human psychology, Belgium."
"Before the war I would have let that to you and upper-class ladies with nothing to do then sitting in their mansions and think how lovely the weather is and how pale their skin has become, but now I just don't care."
"I will take that as a compliment to my wealth and accomplishments," Germany smiled.
Belgium waved his insult away and continued: "My point is that we are a product of nationalism, whoever was before us, they vanished for a reason and those who did survive have forgotten everything and are as dependent on history books as any mortal human!"
They both fell silent and stared in different directions, an uncomfortable feeling overwhelmed both nations while Belgium's words sank in. After a few minutes Germany broke the uneasy silence: "Once we will discover if we are or aren't as permanent of immortal as we believe we are, no war will change that."
"But we're in a desperate position, Germany, this is not a crossroad, this is a collapsing cliff, beneath us is the sea and there's only one ship and all of us need to get in! It's not a leap of faith, but plain suicide: we can't go in holding grunges: there is no room, no private space! We can't lash out again, not with the means we have now and that will only get worse!" Belgium was now almost on the verge of tears: "there may not be another war or it will destroy us, once we can break through trenches, we can circumvent them all together! Zeppelins bombed Liège, Antwerp and London, what will happen when other, faster flying machines can carry bombs?"
"You don't understand: there must be one ruler in Europe, it's what this war is about now: one ruler, one powerful nation that can regulate the others and solve problems peacefully or enforce them by force. One nation that will be the voice of Europe," Germany paused and looked at his small adversary, "A hierarchy, Belgium, is, has and always will be a vitality, in the army, in all cities and all empires! There must always be someone second to God," Germany explained, getting up. He hadn't even touched his glass of juice. Belgium quickly stood up too. Germany motioned to the entrance of the summer house.
"And you want to be that leader and stand on the same rung as the pope?" Belgium asked facing him. He only nodded. "Whatever the cost?" He nodded again and motioned her to continue walking, they crossed the sunlit summerhouse and moved towards the manor.
"You can now, I hope, understand that I will not try to influence my emperor to even consider the idea of a premature peace. It's nonsensical, England and France understand this and will agree with me: to determine the victor the fight must go on, didn't Athens defeat Persia and Sparta for supremacy over Greece?"
"Sparta and Athens fought each other into oblivion and left the stage free for Thebes," Belgium replied. Germany didn't reply.
"And Austria," she continued, "he is a great power, is he not? And he agrees with me!"
Germany waited and slowly began replying, carefully weighting his words: "Austria… well… he is like Russia I'm afraid: a giant of the past, waiting and fighting for a salvation. I believe his salvation will lie in my victory and therefore I do not endorse a separate peace."
"You can't deny that the power blocks didn't work: Bismarck was wrong!"
"Belgium," Germany explained, "the power blocks are indeed the reason why we are at war and also why we are fighting for supremacy: the blocks were equals, therefore equality is not the solution." Belgium remained silent. Germany saw her sad face and continued: "Everybody wants the war to end, there is no doubt, but please do understand that what you and Austria want to propose cannot work in the long run! I am fighting for peace as much as you are, but my mind is not fogged by sadness about my people or my home, I have to think clearly and foresee the future!"
"You have no idea what I'm going through," Belgium fought a lost battle against her tears, "no-one knows what it is to be in my shoes: I'm surrounded, I'm occupied and I'm on my own! When I'm in England I get mud thrown at me, when I'm with France I can see in his eyes he wants to use me as cannon fodder! The war must end! It must end now! But I'm tired, I'm so tired!"
Germany stopped dead next to the troubled woman. Before the war he would have hugged her if she had ever been like this, but now he couldn't even look at her. So, this is how people feel when they break up, he thought. They had never been in a relationship and contrary to popular belief nations weren't allowed such worldly pleasures. He was not even sure if they could love in a romantic sense, he had never felt the feeling anyway. But they could feel friendship, and God, what a friendship they had shared! How hard had it been at first, but now, what matters? Coal is coal and iron is iron, no matter where it comes from, let it be a Belgian mine or a torn down Belgian factory or a German mine or German factory: it's lifeless and doesn't change or judge.
They walked on in silence, they crossed the library, then the hall, carefully retracing her steps, at the vestibule the butler handed her her coat and umbrella.
"Good bye, German Empire," she said, while walking, he noticed, she had cried.
"Good bye, Kingdom of Belgium," he replied, "this war will be over soon, don't be afraid when it is." Belgium didn't reply and stepped in the waiting car without looking back.
($)
The second chapter is not a story, but notes which I consider it to be of equal value as the story itself, in here there are explanations for about everything that might be unclear.