The truth is, in the last few months, nothing much has happened. My excitement was probably fueled by boredom more than anything else. War was boring. It consisted of sitting and waiting for hours, days, forever! Yet, I couldn't get enough of the confusion and chaos. Perhaps that's why I put up with the dull moments.

Oh, yes. How wonderfully entertaining this would be, an invasion of France! No one could accurately predict the outcome or the consequences of invading the greatest military power of the last few centuries. Though, I did have my own predictions: the plan was going to trap our forces in a bottleneck, leaving us vulnerable to French attack and we would be slaughtered before we even got across the border.

So far, my predictions have fallen short. In fact, from what my brother has said, the Low Countries were already close to falling and the French seemed occupied in the North and the South. Although things were looking to be in our favor, I tried to keep my hopes low. Who knows what could be waiting for us on the other side of the forest. It's not that I was hoping for a military defeat, but I also didn't exactly want to be wrong, either. I know this would all be better if I was in charge.

Getting tanks through the forest didn't actually prove to be as difficult as was expected. The small roads were difficult to get Panzers on, sure, but it wasn't the primeval woodland I was made to believe it was. We crossed the rivers quickly with pontoons strung along cables to transport tanks over river crossings. We navigated quickly, with tanks that were able to handle rough terrain better than expected, and in four days had come out of the forest. The communication equipment in our vehicles kept the movement organized, and also faster. A relief from the days I was used to.

Once the forest opened up into Belgian farmland our tank lines managed to get four or five across. I was so captivated by the sheer size and power of what we had created that I rarely joined in conversation. It was average soldier talk: women, alcohol, who had managed to do the stupidest shit in grade school. I bet I could rival all of them with my tales of girls, booze, and stupid shit. I didn't feel the need to join in until a young man, perhaps 19, spoke directly to me: "You're from Berlin, right?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Your accent. I live about ten kilometers south. In Brandenburg." There was silence and the young man tried to think up conversation. "My father fought the French and his grandfather, and his grandfather's father."

"Crazy," I said, boredom dripping from my tongue.

"I know!" "Do you think it's going to be as hard for us as it was for them? France does have a much bigger army."

I rolled my eyes. He had a valid point, but juvenility annoyed me. "Have you looked around? Do you see anything here that doesn't give us an edge on those French bastards? Our tech, our radios, our strategy. And what do the French have? Numbers? No, the world has never seen anything like this." The boy's skepticism bothered me, even though I held his opinions.

"Do you think we'll make it to Paris?"

Scoffing at him, I answered his question with a question: "Do you know how many men are here?" I egged him on.

"Well, no, not exactly."

"Over three million." His eyes went wide and I smirked.

"I see." He paused, "Then what do you think Paris looks like?"

"It's beautiful."

"You've been there?!"

"Many times! But I haven't been back in awhile."

"Aren't you scared?"

I snorted.

"May I ask why you look like that?"

"Oh this?" I lifted up my helmet and the young man gawked. "You see I have a condition. I like to call it being too good for this world. I'm so awesome, my body is literally rejecting itself!" Letting the helmet go and sitting back on the bench, I crossed my arms. "Everyone thinks my brother, blonde hair, blue eyes, muscular, and handsome is the perfect man, they have a right to think that, I did raise him, but they just haven't met me!" Sweat dripped off my brows as I knit them together. "I'm going to remind all of France who I am!"

"And who are you?"
"Gilbert Beilschmidt!"

The soldier driving turned around to us and removed his headphones "The front has made contact with the French army and are ordering us to flank North!"


A lot has happened since I last posted, but I have not died! I started college, moved in with my boyfriend, got married, went on an archaeological excavation in the Middle East, graduated, got a job as an archaeologist, and will start a Masters program this month. But I have not forgotten about this story, I simply had not had the motivation.