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AVAILABLE: Wednesday, July 22nd
As World War I approaches its first Christmas, the soldiers in the trenches are already tired of it. Both sides assumed a quick and easy victory, but nothing about this war has been easy. Wulfric, a German soldier, lost all hope the day he lost his lover, Edmund. To him, the joys of Christmas only bring him more grief as he thinks of everything Edmund can no longer experience. Then, in the process of negotiating a truce for the holiday, Wulfric meets Jack, an Englishman, whose striking resemblance to Edmund makes Wulfric initially mistake him for a ghost. How could this day break his heart even more?
Jack immediately notes how sickly Wulfric appears compared to his comrades. His concern leads to curiosity, and while there is peace in No Man’s Land he takes it upon himself to cheer up this enemy soldier. Along the way he realizes his attraction to Wulfric goes beyond altruism, but when he learns about Edmund his notions of romance crumble. Except Wulfric’s feelings toward Jack grow from trepidation to gratitude to something he hasn’t felt since Edmund died, something he didn’t think he would feel again. Can they both put the ghosts of the past behind them? Or will their future remain an elusive specter forgotten on the battlefield once the truce ends?
Wulfric dropped his bundle of sticks onto the pile. He wasn’t sure it was dry enough, or if it was too scorched from artillery to burn again, but Karl insisted he could get a fire going underwater, and that the sausages would taste far better roasted on open flames than simply warmed up in the pan they had in the bunker. Men in both uniforms gathered together waiting to enjoy their feast. Aside from the sausages donated by numerous German soldiers, the English had their plum puddings and tinned meals -- some of which Wulfric had received in exchange for his pipe -- and there were enough cookies and chocolates and small cakes sent for Christmas to go around.
Karl made good on his promise. Within minutes he had a small fire going within a loose structure of branches and small logs that put out a lot of smoke. A few men eagerly grabbed more logs to feed it, but Karl brandished the sturdy stick he was using as a poker at them. He waved it like a rapier, driving them back.
“Smother it too soon and you’ll have nothing,” he warned. “Let it take its time. If you’re that bored, go back to shooting each other.”
Wulfric had certainly had the notion to do so. He would stand off to the side as he did it, for the sake of keeping the others out of the crossfire and making himself an easier target. But he couldn’t. Not while they were celebrating Christmas. He wouldn’t let his own recklessness ruin the holiday for his comrades. Besides, it was nice to have a little rest and quiet, especially with a good fire warming the chill out of his bones.
But the fire couldn’t stave off the cold that ran through Wulfric’s blood at the sight of that one damned Englishman coming their way. The haze of the fire between them distorted the other man’s face and made it look once again too much like Edmund’s. Wulfric turned to run, but Petr clapped him on the back before he could move.
“I’m glad you came out to celebrate with us tonight,” Petr said. “If Edmund were here, he wouldn’t want you spending the night with the rats while the rest of us were having fun.”
Wulfric shivered. He clenched his fists. His eyes darted between the fire and the Englishman, hoping one would burn out the image of the other and when he looked up again the phantom would be gone.
Instead the Englishman joined them. Wulfric heard the other English soldiers hailing him as Jack. Jack wended through the crowd on a clear trajectory towards him. Wulfric nearly dropped to his knees to beg this man to leave him in peace.
“Hello there,” Jack said. “Wulfric, is it?”
“It is,” Wulfric grunted.
Jack smiled. One of his front teeth was crooked. Edmund’s teeth had been perfect. From under his coat, Jack produced a round bottle half-full of an amber brown liquid. “I don’t know if your commanders thanked you properly for acting as our translator, so I thought I’d bring you a gift. I, erm, apologize that it’s not a full bottle, but, well, it’s not as though I expected to ...” He cleared his throat and held the bottle out. “Happy Christmas!” he exclaimed.
Wulfric stared at the bottle. It could be poisoned. Jack would have to be bold or stupid to offer it in public if it were. However, as though sensing Wulfric’s apprehension, Jack opened the bottle, took a small swig, gargled it as proof, then swallowed. He grinned again. Wulfric had the urge to try to straighten that crooked tooth like a painting hanging unevenly on its nail. Instead he took the bottle and drank a little himself. If it were poisoned, and this was some sort of mad attempt at murder suicide, then at least Wulfric wouldn’t die alone.
The alcohol was more than smoky, it was nearly ashen in flavor, so much so that if the wind weren’t at his back, Wulfric would have assumed the scent of the fire was affecting his ability to taste. Swallowing felt like swallowing fire as well. Wulfric coughed. He would prefer a nice schnapps, especially one with peppermint for the holiday, but for the sake of being polite and to make sitting next to this living phantom more tolerable, Wulfric choked down another gulp.
“Danke,” he wheezed.
Jack’s grin widened. He settled into the makeshift seat and struck up conversation with the rest of the soldiers basking in the firelight. Wulfric continued to drink. He accepted a fresh hot sausage when one was pressed into his hand. The skin was nice and crisp. He even managed to smile in satisfaction for a moment before once again remembering who wasn’t there to enjoy this with him. Petr had said Edmund would want him to have fun, but it felt wrong to feel any joy while his heart still ached in mourning. He knocked back more of the bottle. He might finish it tonight. Hopefully that would numb his mind long enough to let in a little Christmas cheer.
