Awakening to the sound of Officer Wilson calling my squadron; I open my eyes, finding myself on my hard, filthy mattress on the dugout floor, shoved into a corner.

Still in my muddy fatigues; turning on my side and front, I sluggishly force myself off the floor; pushing aside an empty whiskey bottle.

Grabbing my Lee–Enfield beside my mattress as I rise; propping myself up with it, I get to my feet, pivot around and swiftly exit the dugout, following my fellow men.

Emerging into the trenches; its silent; all the men are gathered gazing forwards and over the top.

Horrified, I call out:
“What on earth are you all doing? You are in line of sniper fire-

One grabs me by the shoulder and looks at me; saying:
"There are no snipers- not any more.
You need to look at this."

Befuddled; I follow him as he makes his way over to the nearest foothold and climbs up; gazing over the top.

Climbing up beside him, I carefully peek over; only to witness a silent no man’s land ahead of me.

The landscape lacking any activity, no whizzing of passing bullets, no howling mortars; no thunderous crashes as they tear up the very ground, or the pained screams of those sent over the top mangled among barbed wire.

Not even the corpses of yesterdays skirmishes; all of them oddly absent; the air itself still and devoid of motion.

All that remained was a grey, silent, lifeless landscape; covered only by rows of barbed wire, the occasional dip from past mortars; and a new, thick layer of dark grey ash.

And a pale grey, sunless sky above; dominated by overcasting clouds.

The only exceptions to this being a singular; oddly shaped dead tree, swaying in the non existent wind; placed directly in the middle of no man’s land.

The addition of a thick veil of steam rising from the quiet enemy trench ahead.

And the only, one sound briefly filled the air a singular time; the call of a low trumpet, slow and deep in tone.

Looking around, I ask:
"What... happened?"

Another looks at me, says:
"I... have not the slightest idea; its almost as if the Jerrys have... disappeared."

I retort:
"Then why don't we simply stroll over? and have at them for good?"

My commander; Officer Wilson; steps over behind us, and says:
"Its not that simple, As you can see something is terribly wrong.

Hundreds of corpses vanishing in the night without a sound, and that blasted tree appearing?
Do you not know this is obviously... unnatural?"

I reply:
"True, Perhaps a convoluted trap from the Krauts?"

Officer Wilson gives me a stern stare; albeit a hint of befuddlement betrays his gaze:
"Quite possibly."

He shouts:
"Back down!"

Immediately; the whole trench climbs back down.

He continues:
"Fall back, dugouts, immediately."

With no hesitation everyone follows; making their way back into the dark, dingy dugouts as he leads them in.

Following orders; I trail behind.

Swiftly piling into our dugouts; me following Officer Wilson into ours; he stands at a small table with a map of the lands beyond atop it; my group instinctively forming around it.

Examining it he says:
"Any watches have recon on the night before?"

The Periscope team steps forward, one saying:
"No Officer Wilson, no stars nor moon illuminated the night, we had no visual; but it was certainly, abnormally quiet."

Officer Wilson:
"Hmm... Any signs of activity on the enemy front since?"

Periscoper:
"No, Officer Wilson."

Officer Wilson:
"At what time did the silence begin?"

Periscoper:
"Around 9:33pm, sir."

Officer Wilson
"Visual at the time?"

Periscoper:
"None, sun set... abnormally quick; the layer of ash and that... tree, were all absent at the time."

Officer Wilson:
"Quite peculiar.
How far would you say the tree is?"

Periscoper:
"Around 150 yards, sir, due north; I will double check."

Officer Wilson:
"Please do."

Periscoper:
"Yes sir."

The Periscoper rushes out, equipment in hand.

A few moments later; he arrives and says:
"Correction, 50 yards, the tree appears to have... moved."

Officer Wilson looks at him with confusion:
"Moved?"

Periscoper:
"Yes, sir."

Officer Wilson:
"How on bloody earth- show me."

The Periscoper leaves the room, Officer Wilson following.
Curious, I follow too; others in the dugout making the same choice.

Finding him outside looking over the top along side the periscoper; I make my way over, climb up and look; only to see the tree is now much closer.

Albeit now; its much clearer in shape; definable features now being visible.

Overall; the trees trunk almost resembles a persons torso and legs, albeit crudely.
And the branches look similar to long; warped arms, with many long distended fingers.

And almost, I could make out what appeared to be a head atop the trunk; adorned with many branching limbs.

This thing continuing to sway in the absent wind.

Noticing it was followed by a singular; low; deep trumpet sound, yet again; albeit louder.

Denying the possibility; I rubbed my eyes and looked again, the features standing out but vague.
Meanwhile; Officer Wilson stared at it with both confusion and anger.

He says:
"Must be some trick by the Fritz, blast the thing to kingdom come!
Mortars, get on it."

A small division from the group runs off into a nearby set in the back of the trench where a mortar is set up.

Gathering around they adjust the sights, line up the angle, adjust the elevation using the range scale on the handle and prepare to fire.

Getting a shell ready and arming the firing pin; they drop it in and...

Nothing.

Bewildered; they re-arm the firing pin, and...

Absolutely nothing.

Reaching in and pulling out the shell; inspecting the detonator at the back; there is no signs of moisture damage; the detonator activated albeit nothing.

Swiftly throwing it over the top of the trench and a good distance into no man’s land, they rush back; grab another and drop it in.

Again, nothing.

Taking it out and inspecting it, again its activated but no firing.

One of them says to Officer Wilson:
"Shells are shot, they aren't working."

Officer Wilson:
"Well; fire upon it then!"

Taking his orders; me and the others raise our guns, aim upon the tree and pull our triggers.

"Click"
"Clack"
"Thunk"
"Tick"

Collectively; the whole group lets out noises and groans of confusion, annoyance and anger.

Befuddled and getting clearly annoyed; Officer Wilson shouts:
"Okay that's it, someone lob a bloody grenade at the thing!"

Having one on me, I shout: "Can do!", pull it from my belt; pull the pin and lob it at the thing; the grenade bouncing lightly off its trunk.

Getting down; I wait for the blast.
After about a minute or 2, nothing.

Confused; thinking the safety lever had not come off; i look in my hand to see the safety lever still in my grip; along with the pin.

I say:
"I don't... understand, I pulled the pin, I have the safety lever right here..."

Officer Wilson looks at me, climbs down, approaches and looks at the pin and lever in my hand.
The look of absolute perplexity and annoyance on his face only growing stronger.

Angrily he shouts:
"Back in the dug outs!"
As he storms back in and heads back to the table; my group following.

Now gathered around the table again; he says:
"I don't get it, how... by what confounded mechanism has all our munitions failed?"

Everyone murmurs and chatters with idea-less dismay.

Officer Wilson
"Well; that means we can only do one thing, radio for assistance."

Taking out a small radio from under the table with a wired in microphone on the side; he turns a dial and says into the microphone:

"This is Officer Wilson, north west division, all our munitions have failed, requesting back up."

Only to get no response.

He repeats himself several times; adjusting each attempt to find a working signal, only for the same outcome every time.

Nobody responds.

Officer Wilson:
"Blast it... seems we will need to improvise a way to-"

Out of nowhere, a periscoper comes rushing in shouting:
"Its closer, its closer; its right outside!"

Filled with bafflement and rage; Officer Wilson does not even question, instead grabbing a rifle with a bayonet and rushing outside; me and the rest following.

Making our way outside; we see the "tree" standing just outside the trench looking down upon us.
But as we gazed upon it, it was made clear; this was not a tree in the slightest.

No; what stood before us was a vaguely humanoid, giant figure resembling a tree.

Its torso wide and short; albeit stocky.
The legs long and thick; the feet being long warped massed of root like growths.

What were supposed to be arms connected to many shoulder blades protruding from the sides of the torso; stretched out from the sides as if preparing to embrace someone.

The hands of each arm having long, warped; twisting fingers resembling tree branches

Its head; it was smooth and faceless where one should be, except for a deep, carved slit running down its entire body; the head around it however adorned with many twisting branches and arm like growths.

As this thing gazed down upon us; we heard the same trumpet sound again, albeit much louder.
The sound drawing out all the other soldiers from their dugouts.

As I gazed upon that, inhuman giant of a being; I felt the trumpets again, this time not as sound but within me as a feeling; carrying a message; not written in word but with specific, to the point; visceral intention.

Words being carved into my very soul.
Feeling its words; it said unto me.

"Listen closely.
Can you hear it?

You will, and shall, know and feel the laughter, joy of millions from now and gone, and soon, as the heavens open.

You will hear the choirs trumpets play their most joyous sounds.

The very essence of life will pour down onto you all.

Together, we will be one, still.
Together, a joyous gathering.

Together, bound by love and the purest of connection.

You will be still."

Innately I could sense a calm, albeit thin veneer of kindness to it on the surface.
Albeit below that, a sea of demanding, direct malice, toiling, boiling; just waiting to be unleashed.

Seconds later; the slit down the middle of the being opened and boiling blood gushed out, narrowly missing me as it began to swiftly fill the trench around me.

Instinctively; I grabbed onto the walls behind me and climbed, narrowly avoiding the toiling tide of offal as it swept through.

Within moments; the tide of blood grew; forcing solders over and dragging them under.

Barely, I climbed fast enough to avoid it.

Just about reaching the top of the trench, stepping into the no man’s land behind it; I turn around to see this giant still showering gurgling, piping hot, crimson life essence into the trench below; any and all in its way being smothered and pulled under.

There was no sound except the powerful flowing of its juices, the screams of terrified men, and the bubbling of those taken by the ravenous rip tide.

All I could do was watch as, within mere moments; the trench filled completely; turning what was once a fortification into a stream of raging, bubbling blood.

A thick cloud of steam swiftly rising from it; blocking most of the so called "tree" from view.
Not even the bodies of the others were visible; likely taken by the tide.

Standing, not even sure how to react let alone process the sight before me, I simply sat down on the cold ash floor and looked at where this thing was supposed to be.

The sickening warmth radiating from the red river; almost comforting in contrast to the floor below.

Then, a gust of wind came through accompanied by the sound of a distant, low; deep trumpet; opening the veil of vapours for a moment, to reveal nothing.

Like that; the being had simply.
Vanished.

Having simply no idea how to respond, overwhelmed, I laid down among the ash and stared at the skies.

Hours later, a team sent to investigate the silence found me; and took me in.
I know they won't believe my story, so why they humour me by having me write this as a statement befuddles me.

But all I can say is; for sure, is that I will never forget that thing.
What it did to my fellow soldiers.

And with that, I end my statement; I pray the investigation yields a minimum of some answer.

[the end]