The Broken Poppy

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The Broken Poppy Page 12

by Alice Catherine Carter


  Silent night, Holy night

  Shepherds quake, at the sight

  Glories stream from heaven above

  Heavenly, hosts sing Hallelujah.

  Christ our Savior is born,

  Christ our Savior is born.

  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’.

  It was quite fitting really, the lyrics I mean. Silent. No bullets or sounds of hatred where heard and the song was calming. Although a slower melody than the previous song, it made you feel calm and for what it was worth, it made you feel safe. Moments after, we heard a noise coming from the other side of no man’s land and it was coming from the German trenches. They were singing too. They were full of spirit and they sang as loud as they could, with the invisible air carrying the lyrics of their German song along no man’s land and into our trench. Even though no one else was able to understand a word they said, I was quite proud of myself as I managed to translate every single word in my head. It was a simple song, expressing the belief that God is not necessarily seen but at times, especially at Christmas time, his presence can be felt. Something I still find hard to grasp, but I suppose it will give people with that belief a kind of comfort and hope. It is anyway a beautifully written song.

  It is now about eleven o’clock in the evening and I have been writing this entry for the past two hours. It is pitch black and I am having to write by candlelight, well actually I’m using Johnnie’s lighter, but at least it’s easier to write with the moonlight, which I have had to do. Honestly though I don’t mind as I just had to get every part of the day down on paper. It has been a bizarre encounter and day on the whole, but I would not have missed it for the world. Maybe, just maybe, humanity does still exist in us, despite what we are capable of when we are angry. I suppose though I will not feel this way tomorrow when battle commences. When humanity and courtesy is all but forgotten and we go back to killing our own for what appears to be at least, a bit of soil. For now though even if it is my last day on this earth, tomorrow I will be able to say that I found humanity among us even during the darkest and most saddening moments in our history.

  Yours,

  Private Thomas Millward.

 

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