Instead of watching sport on tv, I was asked to clean out the attic and I did. After about half an hour of sorting special items from rubbish, I decided that I would try to conquer cleaning the massive old wardrobe. It sat in one corner of the attic. Quickly and easily, I pulled the fog gray sheet off. There sat the wardrobe. The old, damaged wardrobe. Slowly I opened the doors. Straight away something caught my eye. It was a dusty, old book but it wasn’t just any old book, it was my diary. The one I used in the war. I ran downstairs and went straight to my bedroom. I dropped to the floor and reached under my bed. I pulled out a key and that’s all that I left with. I dashed back up to the attic, grabbed the dairy and unlocked it. Suddenly everything came back to me. The first thing I remembered was how for a few hours there was a truce and if I remembered correctly, it was on… Christmas? We all played soccer and it was super fun. I also remembered all the names of the people who stood by my side all the way through the devastating war. After about two hours of happy and horrible memories, I decided to put the book away. After all of this I thought it might be the right time to