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May 17th, 1917

This bloody affair is finally over. Apparently the soldiers of the French army simply had enough and the Germans found out about it, at least if the papers from the states are to be believed. Hopefully this means we will get some proper food again once the royal navy stops its blockade. Either way, I’m going out with the other chaps at the embassy for a Bier and celebrating.

May 20th, 1917

I may have celebrated prematurely. Dear diary, please do not get the wrong impression. The news this morning that the peace has been put to paper in Chur is great news, no doubt. The bad news is that apparently the French where more stingy than the British when it came to territorial compensation. As I was so politely informed by Washington this morning, there is to be held a referendum in that territory that lies between France and Germany and the very mention of whose name could get me lynched by either party should I decide to pronounce it in a way not to their liking. For a brief moment, I felt sympathy for the poor boy that would have to keep tabs on that whole affair. That is, until I learned it was to be my job.

I briefly considered suicide, but I am enough of a patriot that I am willing to sacrifice my mental and even physical wellbeing for the sake of my country. Regardless, if a week from now my corpse will have ended up somewhere in the French German hell’s bells, a ditch in the countryside of this previously alluded to region, I would very kindly ask that the gentleman or perhaps lady that stumbles upon this diary of mine could get it delivered to the dear old states, and perhaps even get it to my relatives should they find the time. Just put down James Watson Gerard Jr. and I’m sure it’ll find its way.
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