Peace on Earth

Sammy Baldwin awoke to sporadic rife fire and saw his best friend, Abe Schmidt, staring at his rifle. “Abe, what’s goin’ on?”

“Aw, it came down from on high, youse know, to resume fightin’ wid the Jerry’s.”

“Yer kiddin’ …? I mean—” Baldwin exhaled a stream of frosty air and frowned at Baldwin.

“No—I ain’t; youse know I ain’t gonna do it—I ain’t gonna Sammy—I don’t care what they do to me.” Abe Schmidt shook his head wearily.

“Yeah, me either—psst, Abe—a flippin’ colonel’s comin’.”

The colonel—a lieutenant fast on his heels—was walking, hunched over through the trench, until he came to Abe Schmidt, who was in a sitting position—staring at his rifle.





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