The Christmas Truce

I look and see up high,

Planes dropping bombs amid our cry,

Bullets pierce our ears like animals tearing through prey,

An enemy runs onto No Man’s Land,

Waving his arms violently.

Cease fire.

Cease fire.

Silence tears through the barren fields.

The Christmas Truce,

Where enemies unite,

To bury mates into hard, snowy ground.

At the end of the day,

Visions replay,

And the snow settles on our weapons and vests,

We wait quietly for the first bomb to drop or bullet to be shot,

And we will battle again.


These stories were written in our Factory Feedback program, which was created with, and generously supported by, the Dusseldorp Forum.