December 25:

1914 : The Christmas Truce

Just after midnight on Christmas morning, the majority of German
troops engaged in World War I cease firing their guns and artillery
and commence to sing Christmas carols. At certain points along the
eastern and western fronts, the soldiers of Russia, France, and
Britain even heard brass bands joining the Germans in their joyous
singing.

At the first light of dawn, many of the German soldiers emerged from
their trenches and approached the Allied lines across no-man's-land,
calling out "Merry Christmas" in their enemies' native tongues. At
first, the Allied soldiers feared it was a trick, but seeing the
Germans unarmed they climbed out of their trenches and shook hands
with the enemy soldiers. The men exchanged presents of cigarettes and
plum puddings and sang carols and songs. There was even a documented
case of soldiers from opposing sides playing a good-natured game of
soccer.

The so-called Christmas Truce of 1914 came only five months after the
outbreak of war in Europe and was one of the last examples of the
outdated notion of chivalry between enemies in warfare. In 1915, the
bloody conflict of World War I erupted in all its technological fury,
and the concept of another Christmas Truce became unthinkable.

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General Interest
1914 : The Christmas Truce
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6 BC: Christ is born?
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CHRIST IS BORN?:
December 25, 6 B.C.

Although most Christians celebrate December 25 as the birthday of Jesus Christ,
few in the first two Christian centuries claimed any knowledge of the exact day
or year in which he was born. The oldest existing record of a Christmas
celebration is found in a Roman almanac that tells of a Christ's Nativity
festival led by the church of Rome in 336 A.D. The precise reason why Christmas
came to be celebrated on December 25 remains obscure, but most researchers
believe that Christmas originated as a Christian substitute for pagan
celebrations of the winter solstice.To early Christians (and to many Christians
today), the most important holiday on the Christian calendar was Easter, which
commemorates the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. However, as
Christianity began to take hold in the Roman world, in the early fourth century,
church leaders had to contend with a popular Roman pagan holiday commemorating
the "birthday of the unconquered sun" (natalis solis invicti)--the Roman name
for the winter solstice.Every winter, Romans honored the pagan god Saturn, the
god of agriculture, with a festival that began on December 17 and usually ended
on or around December 25 with a winter-solstice celebration in honor of the
beginning of the new solar cycle. This festival was a time of merrymaking, and
families and friends would exchange gifts. At the same time, Mithraism--worship
of the ancient Persian god of light--was popular in the Roman army, and the cult
held some of its most important rituals on the winter solstice.After the Roman
Emperor Constantine I converted to Christianity in 312 and sanctioned
Christianity, church leaders made efforts to appropriate the winter-solstice
holidays and thereby achieve a more seamless conversion to Christianity for the
emperor's subjects. In rationalizing the celebration of Jesus' birthday in late
December, church leaders may have argued that since the world was allegedly
created on the spring equinox (late March), so too would Jesus have been
conceived by God on that date. The Virgin Mary, pregnant with the son of God,
would hence have given birth to Jesus nine months later on the winter solstice.
From Rome, the Christ's Nativity celebration spread to other Christian churches
to the west and east, and soon most Christians were celebrating Christ's birth
on December 25. To the Roman celebration was later added other winter-solstice
rituals observed by various pagan groups, such as the lighting of the Yule log
and decorations with evergreens by Germanic tribes. The word Christmas entered
the English language originally as Christes maesse, meaning "Christ's mass" or
"festival of Christ" in Old English. A popular medieval feast was that of St.
Nicholas of Myra, a saint said to visit children with gifts and admonitions just
before Christmas. This story evolved into the modern practice of leaving gifts
for children said to be brought by "Santa Claus," a derivative of the Dutch name
for St. Nicholas--Sinterklaas.

Christmas Day, 1914

My dear sister Janet,

It is 2:00 in the morning and most of our men are asleep in their

dugouts -- yet I could not sleep myself before writing to you of the

wonderful events of Christmas Eve. In truth, what happened seems

almost like a fairy tale, and if I hadn't been through it myself, I

would scarce believe it. Just imagine: While you and the family sang

carols before the fire there in London, I did the same with enemy

soldiers here on the battlefields of France!

As I wrote before, there has been little serious fighting of late. The

first battles of the war left so many dead that both sides have held

back until replacements could come from home. So we have mostly stayed

in our trenches and waited.

But what a terrible waiting it has been! Knowing that any moment an

artillery shell might land and explode beside us in the trench,

killing or maiming several men. And in daylight not daring to lift our

heads above ground, for fear of a sniper's bullet.

And the rain -- it has fallen almost daily. Of course, it collects

right in our trenches, where we must bail it out with pots and pans.

And with the rain has come mud -- a good foot or more deep. It

splatters and cakes everything, and constantly sucks at our boots. One

new recruit got his feet stuck in it, and then his hands too when he

tried to get out -- just like in that American story of the tar baby!

Through all this, we couldn't help feeling curious about the German

soldiers across the way. After all, they faced the same dangers we

did, and slogged about in the same muck. What's more, their first

trench was only 50 yards from ours. Between us lay No Man's Land,

bordered on both sides by barbed wire -- yet they were close enough we

sometimes heard their voices.

Of course, we hated them when they killed our friends. But other

times, we joked about them and almost felt we had something in common.

And now it seems they felt the same.

Just yesterday morning -- Christmas Eve Day -- we had our first good

freeze. Cold as we were, we welcomed it, because at least the mud

froze solid. Everything was tinged white with frost, while a bright

sun shone over all. Perfect Christmas weather.

During the day, there was little shelling or rifle fire from either

side. And as darkness fell on our Christmas Eve, the shooting stopped

entirely. Our first complete silence in months! We hoped it might

promise a peaceful holiday, but we didn't count on it. We'd been told

the Germans might attack and try to catch us off guard.

I went to the dugout to rest, and lying on my cot, I must have drifted

asleep. All at once my friend John was shaking me awake, saying, "Come

and see! See what the Germans are doing!" I grabbed my rifle, stumbled

out into the trench, and stuck my head cautiously above the sandbags.

I never hope to see a stranger and more lovely sight. Clusters of tiny

lights were shining all along the German line, left and right as far

as the eye could see.

"What is it?" I asked in bewilderment, and John answered, "Christmas

trees!"

And so it was. The Germans had placed Christmas trees in front of

their trenches, lit by candle or lantern like beacons of good will.

And then we heard their voices raised in song.

     "Stille nacht, heilige nacht...."

This carol may not yet be familiar to us in Britain, but John knew it

and translated: "Silent night, holy night." I've never heard one

lovelier -- or more meaningful, in that quiet, clear night, its dark

softened by a first-quarter moon.

When the song finished, the men in our trenches applauded. Yes,

British soldiers applauding Germans! Then one of our own men started

singing, and we all joined in.

     "The first Nowell, the angel did say...."

In truth, we sounded not nearly as good as the Germans, with their

fine harmonies. But they responded with enthusiastic applause of their

own and then began another.

     "O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum...."

Then we replied.

     "O come all ye faithful...."

But this time they joined in, singing the same words in Latin.

     "Adeste fideles...."

British and German harmonizing across No Man's Land! I would have

thought nothing could be more amazing -- but what came next was more

so.

"English, come over!" we heard one of them shout. "You no shoot, we no

shoot."

There in the trenches, we looked at each other in bewilderment. Then

one of us shouted jokingly, "You come over here."

To our astonishment, we saw two figures rise from the trench, climb

over their barbed wire, and advance unprotected across No Man's Land.

One of them called, "Send officer to talk."

I saw one of our men lift his rifle to the ready, and no doubt others

did the same -- but our captain called out, "Hold your fire." Then he

climbed out and went to meet the Germans halfway. We heard them

talking, and a few minutes later, the captain came back with a German

cigar in his mouth!

"We've agreed there will be no shooting before midnight tomorrow," he

announced. "But sentries are to remain on duty, and the rest of you,

stay alert."

Across the way, we could make out groups of two or three men starting

out of trenches and coming toward us. Then some of us were climbing

out too, and in minutes more, there we were in No Man's Land, over a

hundred soldiers and officers of each side, shaking hands with men

we'd been trying to kill just hours earlier!

Before long a bonfire was built, and around it we mingled -- British

khaki and German grey. I must say, the Germans were the better

dressed, with fresh uniforms for the holiday.

Only a couple of our men knew German, but more of the Germans knew

English. I asked one of them why that was.

"Because many have worked in England!" he said. "Before all this, I

was a waiter at the Hotel Cecil. Perhaps I waited on your table!"

"Perhaps you did!" I said, laughing.

He told me he had a girlfriend in London and that the war had

interrupted their plans for marriage. I told him, "Don't worry. We'll

have you beat by Easter, then you can come back and marry the girl."

He laughed at that. Then he asked if I'd send her a postcard he'd give

me later, and I promised I would.

Another German had been a porter at Victoria Station. He showed me a

picture of his family back in Munich. His eldest sister was so lovely,

I said I should like to meet her someday. He beamed and said he would

like that very much and gave me his family's address.

Even those who could not converse could still exchange gifts -- our

cigarettes for their cigars, our tea for their coffee, our corned beef

for their sausage. Badges and buttons from uniforms changed owners,

and one of our lads walked off with the infamous spiked helmet! I

myself traded a jackknife for a leather equipment belt -- a fine

souvenir to show when I get home.

Newspapers too changed hands, and the Germans howled with laughter at

ours. They assured us that France was finished and Russia nearly

beaten too. We told them that was nonsense, and one of them said,

"Well, you believe your newspapers and we'll believe ours."

Clearly they are lied to -- yet after meeting these men, I wonder how

truthful our own newspapers have been. These are not the "savage

barbarians" we've read so much about. They are men with homes and

families, hopes and fears, principles and, yes, love of country. In

other words, men like ourselves. Why are we led to believe otherwise?

As it grew late, a few more songs were traded around the fire, and

then all joined in for -- I am not lying to you -- "Auld Lang Syne."

Then we parted with promises to meet again tomorrow, and even some

talk of a football match.

I was just starting back to the trenches when an older German clutched

my arm. "My God," he said, "why cannot we have peace and all go home?"

I told him gently, "That you must ask your emperor."

He looked at me then, searchingly. "Perhaps, my friend. But also we

must ask our hearts."

And so, dear sister, tell me, has there ever been such a Christmas Eve

in all history? And what does it all mean, this impossible befriending

of enemies?

For the fighting here, of course, it means regrettably little. Decent

fellows those soldiers may be, but they follow orders and we do the

same. Besides, we are here to stop their army and send it home, and

never could we shirk that duty.

Still, one cannot help imagine what would happen if the spirit shown

here were caught by the nations of the world. Of course, disputes must

always arise. But what if our leaders were to offer well wishes in

place of warnings? Songs in place of slurs? Presents in place of

reprisals? Would not all war end at once?

All nations say they want peace. Yet on this Christmas morning, I

wonder if we want it quite enough.

Your loving brother, 

Tom

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The two songs below are about what is described above. The

first song is written by Joe Henry and Garth Brooks, the second by John

McCutcheon. 

BELLEAU WOOD

Oh, the snowflakes fell in silence

Over Belleau Wood that night

For a Christmas truce had been declared

By both sides of the fight

As we lay there in our trenches

The silence broke in two

By a German soldier singing

A song that we all knew.

Though I did not know the language

The song was "Silent Night"

Then I heard by buddy whisper,

"All is calm and all is bright"

Then the fear and doubt surrounded me

'Cause I'd die if I was wrong

But I stood up in my trench

And I began to sing along

Then across the frozen battlefield

Another's voice joined in

Until one by one each man became

A singer of the hymn

Then I thought that I was dreaming

For right there in my sight

Stood the German soldier

'Neath the falling flakes of white

And he raised his hand and smiled at me

As if he hoped to say

Here's hoping we both live

To see us find a better way

Then the devil's clock struck midnight

And the skies lit up again

And the battlefield where heaven stood

Was blown to hell again

But for just one fleeting moment

The answer seemed so clear

Heaven's not beyond the clouds

It's just beyond the fear

No, heaven's not beyond the clouds

It's for us to find it here.

CHRISTMAS IN THE TRENCHES

My name is Francis Tolliver, I come from Liverpool.

Two years ago the war was waiting for me after school.

To Belgium and to Flanders, to Germany to here

I fought for King and country I love dear.

'Twas Christmas in the trenches, where the frost so bitter hung,

The frozen fields of France were still, no Christmas song was sung

Our families back in England were toasting us that day

Their brave and glorious lads so far away.

I was lying with my messmate on the cold and rocky ground

When across the lines of battle came a most peculiar sound

Says I, ``Now listen up, me boys!'' each soldier strained to hear

As one young German voice sang out so clear.

``He's singing bloody well, you know!'' my partner says to me

Soon, one by one, each German voice joined in harmony

The cannons rested silent, the gas clouds rolled no more

As Christmas brought us respite from the war

As soon as they were finished and a reverent pause was spent

``God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen'' struck up some lads from Kent

The next they sang was ``Stille Nacht.'' ``Tis `Silent Night','' says I

And in two tongues one song filled up that sky

``There's someone coming toward us!'' the front line sentry cried

All sights were fixed on one long figure trudging from their side

His truce flag, like a Christmas star, shown on that plain so bright

As he, bravely, strode unarmed into the night

Soon one by one on either side walked into No Man's Land

With neither gun nor bayonet we met there hand to hand

We shared some secret brandy and we wished each other well

And in a flare-lit soccer game we gave 'em hell

We traded chocolates, cigarettes, and photographs from home

These sons and fathers far away from families of their own

Young Sanders played his squeezebox and they had a violin

This curious and unlikely band of men

Soon daylight stole upon us and France was France once more

With sad farewells we each prepared to settle back to war

But the question haunted every heart that lived that wonderous night

``Whose family have I fixed within my sights?''

'Twas Christmas in the trenches where the frost, so bitter hung

The frozen fields of France were warmed as songs of peace were sung

For the walls they'd kept between us to exact the work of war

Had been crumbled and were gone forevermore

My name is Francis Tolliver, in Liverpool I dwell

Each Christmas come since World War I, I've learned its lessons well

That the ones who call the shots won't be among the dead and lame

And on each end of the rifle we're the same