Arlington: Christmas Eve, 1914
Dearest Christine,
The last remnants of autumn have died away as the vice of winter tightens around the Front. The last poppies have withered to nothing, leaving the land barren. It is as if the hand of Death has plucked them out of the ground. It is cold here; so cold that when you wake up in the morning, you have to wait until the sun rises to be able to move. Snow has covered No Man’s Land. As the sun sets, it casts its red light over the white crystals, looking as if blood is cascading over the snow. Now, no matter if it rains or not, the land is never parched; it is always overrun with the streams of blood that run in rivulets through the cracks.

We are all sitting together in the trenches now, Ross, Evin, Winston, and I. For hours, we have been sitting on sentry duty in the cold, damp air, the eerie silence crashing down on us. The other three fell asleep long ago, leaving me alone with my thoughts. That is a dangerous thing out here, to be alone with just you and your thoughts. You begin to doubt yourself and wonder why you are out here. I am like that now. There is no reason for this war; we have no reason to hate the Germans and there is no reason for them to despise us.

God, it’s so desolate out here. Despite my comrades occupying the same trench as me, I feel so alone. It is so quiet and…beautiful. Yes, I said it…this land is beautiful, despite the shell craters, barbed wire, and mud. But I can see beneath all that. I can see the beautiful poppy fields and clear streams and blue skies.

I am sending you some sketches I drew out here. You will probably wonder why my more recent sketches have no color.

I have come to see that the world is no longer drawn with color…it is drawn in shades of gray. Everyone in this war thinks the other side is evil… ‘Oh, the British are evil’ or ‘The Germans are Satan’s spawn’. In reality, there is no good side. We all kill people and commit sins. Everyone in life is good yet evil in their own way, some more so than others. The only one who is purely good is God. But, it seems as if he is going to let us fight this war out, solve it ourselves. He wants us to see who we truly are. Good and evil aren’t as easy to distinguish in real life as they are in a fairytale. Yes, we all come in shades of black for evil and white for good. Yet, deep inside of us, we all have the shade that shines through- gray, which represents neutrality and sins. Look around you. Even the world is starting to grow dull. As we fight, we are draining the color out of the earth; when we rebuild it, we paint it back on the canvas in shades of gray, representing our true colors. It represents our image that we acknowledge, but don’t want the world to see for we are ashamed-and scared- of it.

Before, I said all the poppies were gone. They are not. As summer came to a close, I chose the prettiest, reddest poppy and pressed it in my Bible. My friends thought it was funny, me saving the poppy. They called me a sentimentalist, a visionary. But I don’t care; I don’t listen to them. That icon, that shaft of light in the darkness of Hell, has helped me get to where I am now. As that light fades, I send it to you. Hopefully, you can breathe some life into it, make it new again.

Love,

Arlington




It was silent.

Arlington stirred as he felt snow gently fall onto his face. He opened his eyes and stretched, his cold, stiff joints creaking.

He blinked his eyes in surprise as he saw snow falling heavily over the Front. They didn’t need any more snow; there had been a heavy snow falling for almost the whole week.
Arlington glanced around the trench in despair. He was huddled against the wall of the trench, his boots sinking into the slush on the ground. Ross was sitting against the dugout door, his boots resting on a discarded ammunition box. He was snoring softly, his helmet pulled down over his eyes. Evin was sitting next to Ross, his head resting on his twin brother’s shoulder.

Winston was curled up in the corner of the trench. A sweet biscuit, one of the last of the rations, was clutched in his hand; he was so tired that he fell asleep while eating. They were all tired; Arlington himself hadn’t slept for days.

Suddenly, Arlington was jolted awake. He realized that the four of them were supposed to be on sentry duty. If one of the officers found out they had fallen asleep during sentry duty…Arlington shuddered. He didn’t want to think about it.

He took the flask out of his coat and unscrewed the top. He tipped it back, waiting for the alcohol to burn in his throat. It was empty. The gin his father had given him before he left Britain for the Front was gone; it had been a rough couple of months. He threw the empty flask against the wall of the trench and swore.

Arlington glanced down at the puddle next to him, seeing his reflection in the ice. He leaned over and broke the ice with his gloved fist, careful not to get his hand wet. He knew the water was muddy and probably had blood in it, too. He took the ice into his hand instead; as he was getting ready to put it into his mouth, he saw it too was tainted red. He threw it back into the puddle.

As Arlington leaned back against the wall, a light shot up from the German trench. He nearly fell over in surprise as the light climbed higher in the clear sky. The light was green, shattering into red bits as it reached its highest point.

Out of the corner of his eye, Arlington saw Ross, Evin, and Winston sit up, their faces green and red in the light from the flare.

“Jesus Christ,” Ross whispered his eyes wide as he looked at the light in the sky.

Arlington quickly grabbed his sketchbook and pencil, sketching the light in the sky.

“What was that,” Evin asked, his voice still heavy with sleep, “a flare?”

Arlington slowly nodded, his eyes fixed on the dying light in the sky.

Winston was standing near the edge of the trench, cautiously lifting his head to look out over No Man’s Land.

“Arlington, come here.”

Arlington tore his gaze away from the flare.

“What? Why?”

“Just come here, now. Come and see what the Germans are doing.”

Arlington got up slowly, brushing past Ross and Evin to stand next to Winston. As he cautiously stuck his head above the sandbags, Arlington saw a strange-and lovely- sight. As far as the eye could see, clusters of tiny lights were shining through the darkness along the German line.

“What…What is it?” Winston asked, his mouth open in awe.

Arlington swallowed and blinked, moved by what he saw. He quickly began sketching the beautiful lights into his book.

“They’re Christmas trees…Tannenbaum.”

As the men stared at the trees in awe, they saw Germans milling about along the trench line. One German stood alone on a pile of sandbags, his shadow stretching out across the white snow.

“What is that fool doing?”

As Evin spoke, sweet, melodious music floated out across No Man’s Land, breaking the silence.

“What’s that noise?” Ross whispered.

Arlington slowly closed his sketchbook, putting it back into his trench coat.

“It sounds like a violin.”

And then, a lone German voice rose in song, complementing the music.


Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,
Alles schläft; einsam wacht
Nur das traute hochheilige Paar.

Arlington climbed to the top of the trench, looking out over the snow- covered No Man’s Land.

“Arlington! Get down you fool!” Ross hissed. Arlington ignored him.

From where he was standing, Arlington could see the figure standing on the sandbags. A violin was clutched in his arms. He was the one singing.


Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar,
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh!

“Shouldn’t he be dead by now?” Winston whispered.

Arlington heard a muffled cry as Evin punched Winston on the arm.

“What do you see, Arlington?”

Arlington didn’t answer him, he didn’t even hear him. His eyes were locked on the figure standing outside of the German trench. He knew what the men behind him were thinking; they probably thought it was a diversion, a trap.

If it was a diversion, then why were they so passionately singing Christmas carols? He decided to try and prove his friends wrong.


Silent night, holy night
All is calm all is bright
'Round yon virgin Mother and Child

Arlington’s voice echoed across the silent No Man’s Land. He could feel his friend’s eyes burning into his back.

“Arlington! Are you out of your bloody mind?” Ross hissed, trying to scramble over the top of the trench. Evin yanked him back down.


Holy infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace

Not fully realizing what he was doing, Arlington walked a little farther into No Man’s Land, trekking across the snow. A cold wind was blowing across the barren land; Arlington wrapped his trench coat tighter around him.


Silent night, holy night,
Shepherds quake at the sight.
Glories stream from heaven afar,
Heav'nly hosts sing Alleluia;
Christ the Savior is born
Christ the Savior is born

As he came to the coils of barbed wire, the German began playing the violin again.


Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,
Hirten erst kundgemacht
Durch der Engel Halleluja,
Tönt es laut von fern und nah:
Christ, der Retter ist da!
Christ, der Retter ist da!

The rich baritone voice echoed across the distance between the trenches. The voice was clearer, purer even, than any other voice he had heard; it was certainly better than any other voice he had heard in England.

Arlington’s heart ran into his chest. The men in both trenches were silent. He glanced back at his trench, realizing he was right in the middle of No Man’s Land. As he turned again to face the German trench, he saw that the figure was making his way towards him through the freezing mist, still playing the violin.

Arlington stood frozen with fear as the figure came closer and closer to him.


Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,
Gottes Sohn, o wie lacht
Lieb' aus deinem göttlichen Mund,
Da uns schlägt die rettende Stund'.
Christ, in deiner Geburt!
Christ, in deiner Geburt!

The soldier was a few yards away now, carefully stepping over the coils of barbed wire. Arlington could see the medals and decorations on the soldier’s gray uniform.
The German stopped in front of Arlington, still standing behind the barbed wire; the violin was silent now.

Arlington was breathing heavily, his breath clouding in front of his eyes, fear coursing through his veins. He was stupid to come out here. What if this Boche killed him with the violin bow? How did he know the enemy was going to be friendly, even if it was Christmas?
The soldier’s eyes locked with Arlington’s and he smiled. His hand motioned to the violin.

“Sing.”

Arlington swallowed nervously, staring at the man in front of him. The German smiled even wider.

“Sing.”

Arlington glanced over his shoulder to look back at the trench. The men were glancing over the parapet of the trench, their eyes wide. He turned back to face the enemy soldier and gave him a nod. The violin music began again.


Silent night, holy night,
Son of God, love's pure light.
Radiant beams from Thy holy face,
With the dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth

Arlington stood staring at the German as he played the last few notes on the violin. He played it so effortlessly… and beautifully.

After he finished the last few notes, the German looked up at him smiling.

He nodded. “Very good, mein freund.”

Arlington smiled back. “Danke.
”
The German was a little taller than Arlington; with a muscular build, the German carried himself a different way. His hair, which was cut short in the back but was a little longer in the front, was a light blonde. As he looked at him, Arlington saw that his eyes were the color of chips of ice; melted blue ice with no fire burning behind it. He couldn’t be much older than Arlington, maybe eighteen.

There was a dead silence shrouding No Man’s Land as the German held out his hand to Arlington. As the German spoke, Arlington could hardly understand him through his thick accent.

“Merry Christmas, mein freund.”




Franz: Christmas Eve, 1914


Franz’s hand was still extended toward the Englishman. The Englishman stared at it as if he were handing him a gun.

“Merry Christmas, mein freund,” Franz said, stumbling over the few English words he knew.
The Englishman glanced up at him, his eyes burning into his. Slowly, the Englishman reached out and shook Franz’s hand.

“Merry Christmas.” The Englishman’s voice echoed in the silent air.

Franz stepped over the barbed wire that seperated the two of them, standing in the snow next to the Englishman.

The Englishman was shorter and smaller than Franz, coming to about his shoulder. He had a pale complexion, his black hair a shock against the light skin. His intense green eyes searched Franz’s face.

“Franz! Dumm Kopf!” One of Franz’s friends yelled from the trench behind him. The Englishman glanced over Franz’s shoulder, his green eyes full of fear.

“Franz.”

As Franz spoke, the Englishman glanced back at him, confused.

“Franz,” he said again, pointing to himself. The Englishman’s eyes sparked with understanding.

“My name is Arlington.” He had a thick, manicured British accent.

Behind them, a cheer rose from both trenches. Confused, Franz glanced back. The Germans were standing on the parapet of the trench, holding a ripped white sheet in between them.

“‘You no fight, we no fight’,” Franz whispered, reading the German’s white flag.

The Englishman-Arlington- was staring at the sign in surprise.

“Jesus Christ, this isn’t happening,” he whispered, his green eyes wide.

The English soldiers were making their way down from the parapet of the trench, their eyes never leaving the Germans. The Germans themselves were walking out onto No Man’s Land, trudging through the snow.

As the soldiers stood behind their countrymen, a silence once again crashed down on the crowd. The Germans didn’t step over the barbed wire behind Franz; nor did the British.

“Well, what do we do now?” Arlington asked.

Franz pondered the idea for a moment. As he thought, a British officer came and stood beside Arlington.

“Do you speak English?” The officer, a heavyset man with a beard, asked.

Franz nodded. “Yes… A little.”

The officer’s face grew serious. “We were talking of a ceasefire tonight since it is Christmas. We are not going to be able to decide the war in one night.”

Franz smiled. “I was thinking same thing, sir.”

The officer smiled back. “Well then. No shooting before midnight tomorrow…maybe even after.”

Franz nodded in agreement and turned to the Germans. He told them the agreement in his native language. A cheer rose up from the Germans as they stepped forward as one over the barbed wire. The line of British took a step back, but stood still as the Germans made their way forward.

Franz stood in awe next to Arlington at the sight before them.

“British khaki and German gray…I never thought I would live to see this day.” Franz whispered.

He glanced over and saw Arlington kneeling on one knee, sketching the mingling of the enemies. Franz glanced in awe at the pictures…They were so realistic, so lifelike. He reached down and touched the paper. Arlington glanced up at him.

“What’s the matter?”

“I was seeing if were real. You certainly capture horrid beauty of war.”

Arlington glanced down again at the picture. He motioned towards the sketchbook.

“Would you like to see them?”

Franz nodded. He sat down in the snow beside Arlington as the Englishman showed him all of the sketches.

“This one was a night bombardment about a month ago…and this one is the Tannenbaum and flare from earlier…this is my hometown in Kent…and this one is of Christine, a girl back in Kent…”

Franz saw the way he looked wistfully at the picture of Christine. She certainly was a beautiful girl.

“Don’t worry. We have you beat by Easter. Then you go back and marry Christine.”

Arlington and Franz laughed.

“Fussbal!”

Franz glanced up and saw a few Germans flocking towards a pair of British soldiers holding a soccer ball.

“Now that is one thing we can all understand no matter where we are from: football.” Arlington remarked as the Germans and British began kicking the ball around, getting a game started. The two laughed again.

As the game continued on (The Germans went on to beat the British 2-1), Franz and Arlington talked about home. Franz reminisced about his home outside of Dresden, how there was a girl, Liesl, there he liked but she didn’t know it. Meanwhile, Franz saw Arlington finished a sketch of the game as it came to an end; it showed, in vivid detail, a German soldier heading the ball into the makeshift net, scoring the winning goal.
“Arlington?”

“Hmm?”

“Would you mind doing something for me?”

Arlington glanced up.

“Sure, Franz. What is it?”

“Could I send one of the sketches home to family?”

Arlington smiled. “Sure. Take your pick.”

Franz flipped through the sketchbook. After a while, he turned to Arlington.

“This one.”

Arlington leaned over and looked at the picture. It was a picture of the red poppy fields in Flanders. He smiled and leaned over to carefully rip it out of the book.

“Merry Christmas, my friend.”

Franz took it eagerly and put it into his trench coat.

“Now I feel bad. I nothing to give you for Christmas.”

“The spirit of Christmas isn’t about gifts. It is about living and appreciating the birth of life. Just getting to meet you was the best Christmas gift…I will never forget it.”

Franz smiled and looked down, trying to hide the tears forming in his eyes.

“Here.”Franz said, unwrapping the red, white, and blue scarf from around his neck, handing it to Arlington. “Merry Christmas.”
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As it grew late, the soldiers began to head back to their own trenches.

As Arlington began to go back to the trenches, Franz clutched his arm, pulling him back.

“Gott in Himmel, why cannot we have peace and just go home? There is no need for this bloodshed.”

“I cannot answer that. You will have to ask your Kaiser,” Arlington told him gently.

Franz looked at him then, searchingly. “Perhaps, my friend. But, we must look farther than that. We must also ask our hearts.” He looked down again. “Now, we see the decent side of each other, but in a few hours, the evil side will shine through. We do not have to be like that. We are not all like that. What if our leaders were to offer well wishes in the place of warnings? Imagine what would happen if the spirit shown here caught the hearts of the nations of the world! We could live in peace! But we choose not to see that. We choose to find the evil in people.”
Arlington eyes seemed to flash with sadness and understanding. “I don’t know, Franz. I
don’t know why the world has to be that way.” His voice was shaky; he was moved by Franz’s words. As the silence finally bore down on them, Arlington turned to leave.

“Arlington?”

Arlington turned. Franz walked forward and hugged him, finally stepping back after a few moments.

There were tears in Arlington’s eyes as he finally realized what this war was doing to the world.

“Well, I’ll be seeing you.”

Franz shook his head. “Between you and me, I would rather not see you again. I never want to have to pull a gun on you.”

Arlington nodded as Franz turned to leave, his boots crunching in the snow.

“So, the small pub in Dresden after the war?” Arlington called out. Franz turned and faced him once more.

“I’ll be the best man at your wedding as long as you are the one at mine.”

Arlington laughed. “I like that idea.”

Franz smiled and raised his hand in farewell before continuing back to the trench. His figure soon disappeared into the snowfall and later the birth of spring.