Peace on Earth

We made war to the end—to the very end of the end.

—Georges Clemenceau, Message to the American People, Sept., 1918.

It was three in the morning and it was all quiet on the Western Front, almost as if there was no war anymore and the Oberleutnant shook the Belgian’s hand and then Schmidt’s and Baldwin’s. Just as they were turning to go back across to their side of the Front, he seemed to remember something important and put a hand on Sammy Baldwin’s shoulder. “Ah Sammy, Ich almost forget; Ich vill bring zoo a belt buckle—ja?”

Sammy Baldwin smiled widely. “Yeah, hey, great lieutenant, the one with the crown in ah middle, right?”

“Ja, ja, zah one wif the crown, Sammy, of course. As soon as Ich get sleep a little, ja.”

“Hey great lieutenant that’s jus’ great, jeez, I gotta get a lil’ shuteye myself,” Baldwin replied, yawning even as he said it.

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