The pages are already wearing and starting to fade. The front cover's white colouring is turning slightly yellow, it probably got damaged in the rain. By the time I’m done writing, I’ve used 3 pages. Luckily the book is large and has around 100 so I don’t have to worry about it running out yet. Putting the diary back in my bag, I zip it up, quickly and efficiently.
When I’m out of here I will write about the family I should have, but the family I have been adopted into with my friends. I will write about my new life, the one that’s forever changed, and the old life that I will never get back. I will write about what I want for the future, and I will write about what I wanted in the past. Someday I will write about my children and my husband. I will write about my life, but for now, I wait, in this horrible place, surrounded by people who will help me in my time of need.
…
I usually wake up as the sun rises, as all of the soldiers do, but today was different. Bullets were ripping through the sky throughout the whole night. Everybody took turns being on duty and at 4: 30 it was my turn. I was accompanied by a few other people, all tired and dirty. I recognise a few but I can't place their names.
We all sit around a barrel looking out at the enemy fire, it's not a threat so we talk. We all talk in a circle about our lives at home. Jim, a tall man with short brown hair, is a welder, who fixes tools and weapons. Dave has short blonde hair and is tall and plump. In England, he is a barber. I tell them that I have no home and I signed up for to pay for one, and they both seem remorseful.
“I just can’t wait to get back home, to see my kids and my wife,”
I’m not surprised that Dave has a family, he looks to be in his late 30’s. I wouldn’t be surprised if Jim had a family as well, because he seems to be around the same age.
“Have you got any family back home?”
Jim asks. The question didn’t actually compute in my mind for a few seconds.
“No, but I’ve got a really good mate named Pete. He’s here as well, I should introduce you to him later today,”
Dave and Jim both smile.
Now I have even more friends, but I want to find a girl. Surely there’d have to be a girl like me here. Trying to earn some money to get a job and a house. Everybody here looks the same: Short hair, dirty clothes, and the same sadness and regret on our faces. I wish I hadn’t signed up for this. I sigh and sit in a corner. I've hardly slept since I left the hospital tent, which isn’t good because it’s been over a week. Heavy bags are forming under my eyes and even just walking drains all of my energy.
I yawn. The other soldiers wouldn’t mind if I had a nap, would they? With that, I stretch out my arms and rest my head on the ground. Another yawn escapes my mouth and I close my eyes. Quickly falling into the ocean of black that I’d been yearning for days. A smile spreads across my face and the darkness overtakes me.
In my dream there is a girl, at least I think it’s a girl. She has short blond hair similar to mine and she has a bright smile with pearly white teeth. Her eyelashes are long and dark, and her eyes are a stunning blue. She’s the same height as me, maybe a little bit taller, and her legs are long. For a minute she stares at me and I stare at her.
“Are you English?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“Are you French?”
She shakes her head again.
“Are you German?”
A smile spreads across her face and she starts talking in a heavy accent.
“My name is Clara,”
She disappears and I wake up screaming.
“Lara, are you okay?” Pete runs over.
I tuck my legs into a ball and rock gently.
“Lara?” He repeats.
“I’m fine, just a… bad dream,”
Who was that girl? Was she real? Questions swarm my head and I decide not to sleep tonight. Whoever that girl was doesn’t matter. She is the enemy and we would defeat her. Germany will not defeat us.
But if this was true, why am I still shivering?
The girl is in my head. If she wasn’t German I would be friends with her. My yearning for a girl has crowded my mind. Covering every inch with an itch to attempt to talk to the German girl. How would I? There is no place for the enemies to meet. The most ideal place would be no man’s land but I’m guaranteed to get shot if I go there. Whilst I’m trying to think of an idea, I notice the men opening packages.
These must be packages from home. Every month or so packages arrive. Some big, some small. Some are just letters, and some have biscuits and socks. I’ve never received a package before, and I was surprised when I was handed one.
“For me?” I ask confused.
“Yep,” The man who handed me replies and he walks away. The package reads:
‘For a soldier with no family,’
And it has love hearts squiggles around the whole box. I almost burst into tears when I read the letter inside, it’s in a child's handwriting.
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