A Stepping Stone . . .

I've had a post published on the Only Fools and Horses fan site, ofah.net.

This is a doubly proud moment; the first because I have had a piece of my work published and the second because it involves my favourite tv show of all time!

It's only small but it's a stepping stone!

Check out my piece here: http://www.ofah.net/blog/life-story-roy-slater/

As always, please leave me your feedback. I'd love to hear from you.

Lest We Forget

Today is always a day of poignancy and remembrance.

This year of course is the centenary of the First World War and today I attended a service to mark that moment. It was filled with moving tributes, hymns, poems and a chilly, autumn wind.

I was quick to remember though, that a little chill on my noggin was just a mild inconvenience compared to what those great men and women did for our liberty in the four years of the First World War, and any subsequent wars since.

Lest we forget!

On that topic, I am about to enter a short story competition, portraying the camaraderie, motivation, thoughts and feelings of the soldiers during the Christmas Day Truce of 1914. 

I think I have captured that spirit but would like to hear your thoughts. Please feel free to leave me a comment below.

Best wishes, as always,

Dan

               We’d settled down with a small group of men and ate bread and cheese. It was slightly stale but I was glad to have something to fill my stomach. It had felt very empty recently. Shortly after we finished, the group of eleven, including John and I, indulged in a few swigs of beer each. It was all that was left in a bottle that the Germans had brought with them.

                Of the other nine, five were from our battalion, although I only knew Robert Henson and William Smith. They were in their early twenties, both from Hertfordshire; pure coincidence, having never met each other before the war. They’d been transferred into our battalion with a dozen others after we lost thirty men on the day before last. Nice enough chaps, they had gifted us some cigarettes on Christmas Eve. I could only return a gift of a handshake which they laughed at.

                There were also four Germans. They were all singing Stille Nacht; Silent Night in English. Each soldier took a line, chanting the carol with pride like they were singing their national anthem. Then we sang along in English, our voices unitedly lifting the song to a new level. The rendition gave me goose bumps. 

                It was the camaraderie between us all; it was seeing the enemy for what they really were: men, just like us. The only difference between us, aside from our nationalities, were our orders. Since the war had begun, we had been told that our enemy would kill us at first chance so we had to get in there first. Yet now we sat with them, singing, drinking and eating in their company, relaxed and at ease. I suddenly wished Christmas could last forever to stop this war.