Bayonets and Barbed Wire

Chapter 3

German Front Line Trenches, Champagne District, France

January 2, 1915

5:00 A.M.

For the first time in a week there was to be fighting in Champagne. Otto, Ralf, and the other German soldiers, except for Anton, had continuously gone across no man's land even after Christmas with the intent of continuing the festivities. The Entente had refused these attempts and forced them to return to their trenches

Snow was gently floating down from the heavens that morning, it was on everyone's shoulders and caps. Not one, but three snowball fights had broken out around the squad's living space. These little skirmishes stopped when the troops caught whiff of the quartermaster entering camp. Within minutes, a twisting line of men in piked helmets and cloth caps had formed outside the chef's station for their morning rations. Something Otto had noticed early on was that the rations, consisting of biscuits, meat, and potatoes, were better than what most civilians back in the home country had to eat. Having only come for the food and not the "luxury items" such as cigars and tobacco, Otto gathered his food in his mess kit and scurried back to his bunk area. When he returned to the section of the snowy trench where he and the rest of his little group slept, he sat down adjacent to his friend Krzysztof and dug into his breakfast.

"Krzysztof," he began, setting his mess kit on his lap, "would you rather be here, or on the Eastern Front?"

"Neither," he responded solemnly.

"You know as well as I do that 'neither' is not an answer. We're here to protect the Empire."

"Otto, this isn't my Empire. The only reason I would want to be on the Eastern front is to free the other Poles still trapped behind Russian borders," the Polish man stated without looking up.

Suddenly, just in time to break the awkward silence that had set in, Ralf came around the corner and sprinted towards them. In one hand he clutched his mess kit and in the other he grasped his folded hat. As he neared the bunks, he hit a patch of ice and lost his balance. With a loud, thud he fell on his back and continued to slide towards them, his mess kit and hat flying far ahead of him. Otto and Krzys pulled their legs up from the floor and allowed the walls of the trench to bounce him to a stop. They laughed as a dizzied Ralf raised himself off the ground, rubbing his head all the while.

"Laugh as you will, but you'll be sorry for making fun of me when I show you what I got!" with that he slipped and fell back over, eliciting more laughs from his friends. Struggling to stand, he instead scurried on all fours over to his overturned cap and picked it up, revealing a stash of cigars. Krzys' eyes widened at the sight.

"How'd you get that many?" he asked, almost breathless.

"Well, I took my hat off to pray, and what do you know, suddenly a packet of cigars is missing... On a side note, hats make great, stealthy satchels," Ralf explained, a certain unmistakable twinkle in his eyes. Otto just shook his head and went on eating.

"Pass me some, would you please, Ralf?" Krzys begged. Ralf relented, handing him three.

"Take these, I'm saving some for Anton and Joachim," he said as he hoisted himself into a bunk.

"Anton doesn't smoke, Ralf," Otto groaned, exacerbated by his brother's recent undertakings.

"More for me then," Ralf shrugged.

The trio ate in silence for the next few minutes, listening to the distant sounds of small arms and artillery fire. After ten minutes had passed, Anton and Joachim came wandering into the bunk area. Ralf discreetly passed his stolen cigars to Joachim, who stuffed them into his pocket without hesitation. Anton, the noiseless giant, simply took a seat and quietly ate his breakfast as the rest of his group talked about their lives before the war, what they would do when they got home, and how they could not wait for their turn on the front line to be over.