The most peculiar thing happened on the eleventh of November, just as the snow had begun to drift down. As this very tangible sign of the coming of winter became manifest, news arrived of a coming spring. The dark winter of war was over, and new hope – a chance of life could now bloom.
From the trench lines of France, and in the mountains of northern Italy; in the sands of Egypt and on the borders of Africa – peace had come.
How softly the snow fell that day. In some places it merely created mud, among the torn and scarred land. In others it was a new sheet of whiteness, a blank slate of purity on which to write a story new.
Yet, as this word of hope and promise spread around the world, an Austrian Corporal recovered from his wounds. Perhaps the real winter was yet to come.
Padre
First Line Friday: June 21st, 2019
Padre's Ramblings 
Would we ever celebrate if we knew the future? For those who had survived that war, the prospect of future peace must have seemed … certain? And so it was, for several years.
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