December 25th, 1914

The Great War, WW1, has been going on for almost 5 months now. Millions of lives lost, countless families broken, and the Christmas spirit nowhere in sight. British and German soldiers sat in opposing trenches on high alert. However, the firing from both sides was at a standstill.

Price was slumped down in the British trenches, his rifle across his lap and his hat on the muzzle of said rifle. He rubbed his gloved hands together, occasionally blowing into them to try and warm himself up, but his efforts were futile. He shivered profusely, his nose was red, and his breath came out like clouds of smoke. He’s beyond tired, scared, and exhausted. His mind plays memories of him as a lad enjoying Christmas with his family—times he had taken for granted.

He tears up and rubs the bridge of his nose with a shaky sigh, wanting nothing more than to go home. Why do he and millions of other men have to kill one another because their leaders said so? He grumbled and put his hat on. He got on his feet and navigated through the trenches, stepping past all his fellow soldiers who were just as depressed as he was. He reached the frontlines and stood before the ladders that led out of the trenches. He took a deep breath and climbed the ladder. Other soldiers all gasped and tried to stop him, but he didn’t listen. If he were to die, then so be it.

He climbed out of the trenches and stepped over barbed wire. He was now in ‘no man’s land.’ He once again removed his hat and held it in his left hand, raising both hands as a sign of surrender. He slowly edged his way towards the German trenches with his hands in the air. A few other unarmed British soldiers had followed behind him, also with their arms up. After a while, a few Germans emerged from their trenches. The British and German soldiers slowly edged closer together until Price was face to face with one of them. He extended a shaky hand.

“It’s Christmas… let’s call it a truce for today,” he said softly, his shell-shocked eyes shining with a glimmer of hope.