|somewhere on the western front, 1914
||[Dec. 28th, 2013|02:35 pm]
8 or so bees in my bonnet
|||||my wild irish rose - haydn quartet||]|
bright crisp winter morning
the artillery is quiet
the guys in the trenches
are all thinking the same thing:
why are we fighting this stupid war?
let's make friends...
so some brave chap ventures out
into no man's land
with a football and white handkerchief
fancy a game?
and a sensible german
understands the gesture and meets him halfway
they shake hands
and show each other photographs of their wives & girlfriends & children
and then wave their compatriots on....
it's ok. it's cool...
they find a patch of ground
that isn't too pock marked by craters
empty 20 pounders for goalposts
germany wins the match 3-2
after extra time
...and the next day
the war restarts
just the same
mud blood explosions...