Year 1893:
My name is Jean Pierre. I was born in Strasbourg, capital of the Greater East, which is located in the Alsace region, France.
I grew up amidst the hectic day-to-day life of a big city, accustomed to tight schedules. My parents were bakers, who owned a small shop in the city center.
My life was comfortable.
Year 1906:
I started attending the local school, where I learned to read, write and do math. My passion for mathematics and physics blossomed during this period, making me read book after book in search of more knowledge.
My teachers like me thanks to that.
The time of peace we lived in masked the growth of European military power, with nationalism affecting me at the time.
Year 1914:
With the outbreak of the First World War, I was mobilized at the age of 21.
I have dark brown hair cut short, green eyes, and a height of 1.78m at that time. Patriotic duty called, and I boarded a train for the required military training with an unshakable certainty that France would defeat its enemies. Democracy would prevail over despotism.
Certainty and tension permeate my heart, driving me forward.
August 1914:
I arrived at the front in northeastern France.
The trenches are a shock, with death and destruction everywhere. The constant sound of gunfire and the sight of enemy artillery fire leave me stunned.
December 1914:
Winter is relentless. The biting cold penetrates my bones, stealing what little heat my body generates.
The camaraderie of my colleagues is what keeps me sane through all this madness. Christmas was sad, knowing that few of us would return home in one piece and with the memories of our families back home.
June 1915:
I was transferred to be part of the Battle of Artois. The fighting is fierce, with brutality in hand-to-hand combat that makes me question whether we are still simple animals.
Gas fills the air, burning my lungs. Escaping unharmed seems like a miracle after that.
I miss my family and my hometown insatiably.
Year 1916:
I was transferred to the Battle of the Somme. The carnage is indescribable. Observing the horrors of war left deep marks on my soul, blackening it.
I lost dear friends in this war and I fear it will drag on for longer.
Year 1917:
Transfer to the Eastern Front, where we faced the German and Austro-Hungarian Empires. The diversity of the Allied troops is surprising, with several languages and cultures operating side by side. The conversations with our colonial troops are also interesting, helping me gain a broader worldview.
I made friends with many of these foreign colleagues.
Year 1918:
The news of negotiations for a truce between the countries rekindles my hope of finally resting. It was a long 4 years.
The war is finally coming to an end, with joy mixed with sadness at the loss of so many comrades in the field. Many are suffering in their sleep.
Post-War:
I returned home after the Armistice, reuniting with my family and feeling an undeniable sense of pure happiness.
But the memories of the war never leave me. They torment me every second the silence hits me, with the sound of artillery and rifles filling it, along with overwhelming panic.
I started working in a vineyard in Alsace when I was 26, looking for a quieter life.
1920s-1930s:
I joined veterans organizations and participated in discussions about the consequences of war on our lives. Sometimes my companions could not resist the daily torments. I saw the nation recover, but scars remain everywhere.
I marry a childhood friend and we have a son.
1938s:
The Second World War breaks out.
Worry about a repeat of the horrors of war haunts me every day. France is occupied by the Nazis and my son dies in one of the raids.
I help the resistance in any way I can after this.
1944:
The liberation of France by Allied forces gives me hope of regaining my ordinary life.
The memory of the German occupation is a constant reminder of my son's death, causing me even more pain and making me wonder if the war would stay with me until the end of my life.
1945~1969:
I dedicated the rest of my life to promoting more lasting peace, founding an exchange group for young people from other countries to talk to each other.
I witnessed the construction of the European Union and NATO, which acted against the Soviet Union and communism. I dreamed of a peaceful future for several years, but everything seemed bleak with the threat of nuclear bombs.
1970s:
I passed away peacefully at the age of 77, in an armchair in my living room, after watching a film with my wife. I was hopeful that the future generations I sought to guide would learn from the horrors of war and value the tenuous, hard-won peace we possessed.
*End of Diary*