[NewPacifica] The Christmas Truce of 1914



A true story that should never be forgotten... The last surviving veteran of the
Christmas Truce, Sgt. Alfred Anderson, died just one month ago at age 109.
(It still amazes me that my own grandfather fought in the war, and survived
to teach me as a very young boy how to sing the lovely French folk-song, 
"Alouette".) - Craig Gingold

Two short excerpts from the second article below, by historian Stanley 
Weintraub:

        Some troops referred to the "wonderful day". One wrote of the 
experience as
        "a waking dream". //  Private Percy Jones of the Westminster Brigade 
wrote
         in his diary: "We parted with much hand-shaking and goodwill." 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

        NEW YORK TIMES 

        December 25, 2005

        The Truce of Christmas, 1914 

        By THOMAS VINCIGUERRA

        When Europe marched to war in the summer of 1914, both sides thought the
        fighting would be over in a few weeks. Instead, by the close of 
December, World
        War I had already claimed close to a million lives, and it was clear 
the fighting
        would go on for a long time. 

        Yet on Dec. 24, much of the Western Front fell silent as ordinary 
soldiers made
        temporary peace with the enemy. This was the remarkable Christmas Truce 
of 1914.

        It's estimated that about 100,000 men, mainly British and Germans, took 
part.
        In fact, the sheer magnitude of the event led many to doubt that it 
ever happened.
        As late as 1983, one veteran called the truce a "latrine rumor." 

        Today, however, it is often seen as one of the few bright moments amid 
the
        slaughter of the Great War, in which 14 million people were killed. 

        The last survivor of the truce, Sgt. Alfred Anderson of Scotland's 
Fifth Battalion
        Black Watch, died last month at the age of 109. Here are excerpts from 
letters,
        journals and memoirs of some of the other participants.


        The truce broke out spontaneously in many places. Pvt. Albert Moren of 
the
        Second Queens Regiment recalled the scene on Christmas Eve near the 
French
        village of La Chapelle d'Armentières: 

        It was a beautiful moonlit night, frost on the ground, white almost 
everywhere; and
        about 7 or 8 in the evening there was a lot of commotion in the German 
trenches
        and there were these lights -- I don't know what they were. And then 
they sang
        "Silent Night" -- "Stille Nacht." I shall never forget it, it was one 
of the highlights of
        my life. I thought, what a beautiful tune.

        Rifleman Graham Williams of the Fifth London Rifle Brigade recalled how 
the
        mood spread:

        Then suddenly lights began to appear along the German parapet, which 
were
        evidently make-shift Christmas trees, adorned with lighted candles, 
which burnt
        steadily in the still, frosty air! ? First the Germans would sing one 
of their carols
        and then we would sing one of ours, until when we started up "O Come, 
All Ye
        Faithful" the Germans immediately joined in singing the same hymn to 
the Latin
        words Adeste Fideles. And I thought, well, this is really a most 
extraordinary thing
        -- two nations both singing the same carol in the middle of a war.

        The shared carols inspired Capt. Josef Sewald of Germany's 17th Bavarian
        Regiment to make a bold gesture:

        I shouted to our enemies that we didn't wish to shoot and that we make a
        Christmas truce. I said I would come from my side and we could speak 
with each
        other. First there was silence, then I shouted once more, invited them, 
and the
        British shouted "No shooting!" Then a man came out of the trenches and 
I on my
        side did the same and so we came together and we shook hands -- a bit 
cautiously!

        The enemies quickly became friends, as Cpl. John Ferguson of the Second
        Seaforth Highlanders recalled:

        We shook hands, wished each other a Merry Xmas, and were soon 
conversing as if
        we had known each other for years. We were in front of their wire 
entanglements
        and surrounded by Germans -- Fritz and I in the center talking, and 
Fritz
        occasionally translating to his friends what I was saying. We stood 
inside the circle
        like street corner orators. ? What a sight -- little groups of Germans 
and British
        extending almost the length of our front! Out of the darkness we could 
hear
        laughter and see lighted matches, a German lighting a Scotchman's 
cigarette and
        vice versa, exchanging cigarettes and souvenirs. 

        On Christmas Day, some Germans and British held a joint service to bury 
their
        dead. Second Lt. Arthur Pelham Burn of the Sixth Gordon Highlanders was 
there:

        Our Padre ? arranged the prayers and psalms, etc., and an interpreter 
wrote them
        out in German. They were read first in English by our Padre and then in 
German
        by a boy who was studying for the ministry. It was an extraordinary and 
most
        wonderful sight. The Germans formed up on one side, the English on the 
other,
        the officers standing in front, every head bared. 

        According to several accounts, soccer games were played in no man's 
land with
        makeshift balls that Christmas. Lt. Kurt Zehmisch of Germany's 134th 
Saxons
        Infantry Regiment witnessed a match:

        Eventually the English brought a soccer ball from their trenches, and 
pretty soon 
        a lively game ensued. How marvelously wonderful, yet how strange it 
was. The
        English officers felt the same way about it. Thus Christmas, the 
celebration of
        Love, managed to bring mortal enemies together as our friends for a 
time. 

        Second Lt. Bruce Bairnsfather of the First Warwickshires saw an even 
more
        unusual fraternization:

        The last I saw of this little affair was a vision of one of my machine 
gunners, who
        was a bit of an amateur hairdresser in civilian life, cutting the 
unnaturally long hair
        of a docile Boche, who was patiently kneeling on the ground while the 
automatic
        clippers crept up the back of his neck.

        Not everyone was so charitable. Cpl. Adolf Hitler of the 16th Bavarians
        lambasted his comrades for their unmilitary conduct:

        Such things should not happen in wartime. Have you Germans no sense of 
honor
        left at all?

        When Gen. Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien, commander of the British II Corps,
        learned of the consorting, he was irate:

        I have issued the strictest orders that on no account is intercourse to 
be allowed
        between the opposing troops. To finish this war quickly, we must keep 
up the
        fighting spirit and do all we can to discourage friendly intercourse. 

        Inevitably, both sides were soon ordered back to their trenches. Capt. 
Charles
        "Buffalo Bill" Stockwell of the Second Royal Welch Fusiliers recalled 
how the
        peace ended early on Dec. 26:

        At 8:30, I fired three shots into the air and put up a flag with "Merry 
Christmas" 
        on it on the parapet. He [a German] put up a sheet with "Thank You" on 
it, and
        the German captain appeared on the parapet. We both bowed and saluted 
and got
        down into our respective trenches, and he fired two shots into the air, 
and the war
        was on again.

        Thomas Vinciguerra is deputy editor of The Week.

@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@@

        THE INDEPENDENT (of London)

        The Christmas truce: When the guns fell silent 

        So extraordinary was the Christmas truce of 1914 that some
        no longer believe it could have happened. But as a new film
        recreates those days, Stanley Weintraub says it was no myth

        24 December 2005 

        Live-and-let-live accommodations occur in most wars. Chronicles since 
Troy
        record stops in fighting to bury the dead, to pray to the gods, to 
assuage a
        war-weariness, to offer signs of amity encouraging mutual respect. But 
none 
        had happened on the scale or duration -- or the potential for change -- 
as when
        the shooting suddenly stopped on Christmas Eve 1914. 

        The difference then was in its potential to become more than a 
momentary respite.
        In retrospect, the interruption of the horror -- to soldiers "the 
sausage machine" --
        seems unreal, incredible in its intensity and extent, impossible to 
have happened
        without consequences for continuing the war. Like a dream, when it was 
over,
        troops wondered at it, then continued with the grim business at hand.

        Under the rigid discipline of wartime command authority, that business 
was killing,
        targeting even those whose hands one had clasped, whose rations one had 
shared,
        and who had joined in singing of Peace on Earth and Goodwill to all 
men. The
        Christmas truce of 1914 was no myth, although song, story, film, and 
dubious
        reminiscence have added layers of fantasy upon it.

        For four, bloody months, what became known, with good reason, as the 
Great War
        had been raging. Christmas has always been hard on soldiers who are far 
away
        from home. The British and German troops facing each other in chill, 
muddy,
        sometimes freezing Flanders were as close to home geographically as 
enemies on
        someone else's territory get. London was 60 miles away, across the 
watery trench
        of the English Channel. The German border abutted Belgium, which the 
Kaiser's
        army had invaded and despoilt.

        Yet the muck, and the crisscrossing, water-logged trenches and the 
barbed-wire
        entanglements separating the two armies, as well as the relentless 
firing by
        machineguns and artillery, made the distances home seem far greater.

        A Royal Engineer, Andrew Todd, wrote to The Scotsman in Edinburgh that
        soldiers were "only 60 yards apart" at some places on the front lines. 
They could
        see and hear each other, and even raise bold placards to taunt each 
other. Such
        intimacy hardly contributed to morale, because they could also fire at 
each other,
        and raising one's head above a trench parapet invited death. The number 
of
        casualties was already enormous. Troops dreamt of Christmas with their 
families,
        who seemed increasingly remote in time as well as place. A cynical 
German saying
        was, "We'll conquer until we're all dead". A cartoon by Lieutenant Bruce
        Bairnsfather, "AD Nineteen Fifty", depicted two soldiers with drooping 
white
        beards musing over an old newspaper while shells scream over their 
trench.
        War-weary "Ole Bill" is asked how long he is "up for". "Seven years", 
he groans.
        "You're lucky," says the other. "I'm duration."

        To make it feel more like Christmas, governments on both sides had 
prepared small
        holiday gift-boxes for the troops, with snacks, sweets and tobacco. 
Queen Victoria
        had set the precedent in 1899, ordering small tin boxes of chocolates 
shipped to
        soldiers in distant South Africa for a Boer War Christmas. In 1914, 
Tommies
        received a "Princess Mary" brass box, with her head embossed on the 
lid, much
        like that of the queen 15 years before.

        German troops in Flanders, accessible from home by land, received, 
along 
        with their wooden gift boxes decorated with a wreath and a 
Flammenschwert --
        a flaming sword -- tabletop-size Christmas trees with candles 
conveniently 
        clamped to the branches. The law of unintended consequences activated 
itself. On
        Christmas Eve, as darkness came early, the Germans -- at some hazard -- 
placed
        trees atop trench parapets and lit the candles. Then they began singing 
carols, and
        though their language was unfamiliar to their enemies, the tunes were 
not. After
        a few trees were shot at, the British became more curious than 
belligerent, and
        crawled forward to watch and to listen. And soon they began to sing.

        By Christmas morning, no man's land between the trenches was filled with
        fraternising soldiers, sharing rations, trading gifts, singing, and -- 
more solemnly --
        burying the dead between the lines. (Earlier, the bodies had been too 
dangerous to
        retrieve.) The roughly cleared space suggested to the more imaginative 
among them
        a football pitch. Kickabouts began, mostly with balls improvised from 
stuffed caps
        and other gear, the players oblivious of their greatcoats and boots. 
The official war
        diary of the 133rd Saxon Regiment says "Tommy and Fritz" used a real 
ball,
        furnished by a provident Scot. "This developed into a regulation 
football match
        with caps casually laid out as goals. The frozen ground was no great 
matter. Das
        Spiel endete 3:2 fur Fritz." Other accounts, mostly German, give other 
scores, and
        British letters and memories fill in more details.

        The high brass on both sides quickly determined that they could not let 
the situation
        develop. In the national interest, the war had to go on. Peace has 
always been more
        difficult to make than war, but it was materialising. Under threat of 
court martial,
        troops on both sides were ordered to separate and restart hostilities. 
Reluctantly,
        they drifted apart. General Sir Horace Smith-Dorrien's order to II 
Corps from his
        cushy rear-area headquarters read: "On no account is intercourse to be 
allowed
        between opposing troops. To finish this war quickly we must keep up the 
fighting
        spirit."

        But some units were too contaminated by Christmas to be reliable, and 
it took a
        few days to bring in replacements. Both commands ordered rolling 
artillery barrages
        to disrupt the stillness and to motivate responses.

        In most sectors where the shooting had stopped, signals (in some cases, 
flares) set
        by their officers called men back to their trenches or confirmed the 
imminent close
        of the truce. Private Percy Jones of the Westminster Brigade wrote in 
his diary:
        "We parted with much hand-shaking and goodwill." Rifleman George Eade 
of 
        the 3rd London Rifles said a German soldier told him: "Today we have 
peace.
        Tomorrow you fight for your country. I fight for mine. Good luck."

        Some troops referred to the "wonderful day". One wrote of the 
experience as
        "a waking dream". The remarkable happening is corroborated by reports 
from up
        and down the line, even from French sources. Although the French 
officially denied
        there was a truce, Victor Granier, a Paris Opera tenor, sang "Minuit, 
Chrétiens,
        c'est l'heure solennelle" ["O Holy Night"] -- across the trenches near 
the Polygon
        Wood, and a leading singer from the Berlin Imperial Opera, Walter 
Kirchoff,
        performed for the British for the first time since his appearance at 
Covent Garden
        the year before.

        There was no way to conceal French fraternisation even when the 
unwelcome
        reality was kept from the newspapers, because German accounts 
identified the
        units, and the sick and wounded evacuated to hospitals at the rear 
delightedly
        reported what had they had seen and done.

        Most fascinating as corroboration of the truce are the letters posted 
home, before
        censorship closed such opportunities, by both sides. Many from the 
British side can
        still be read, because families eagerly sent them to their hometown 
newspapers,
        from the Exeter Argus to the South Wales Echo and Belfast Evening 
Telegraph,
        which through January 1915 described details of what otherwise would 
indeed have
        seemed a fairy tale.

        The truce would reappear in song and story, seemingly stranger than 
mere fiction.
        Robert Graves, who joined the Royal Welch Fusiliers just after the 
truce, wrote
        a short story which included a game of football and a German juggler who
        entertained the troops in no man's land. However improbable any account 
of a
        juggler in such circumstances, the 3rd London's official war diary 
reported that he
        "drew a large crowd".

        The German writer James Kruss wrote of an impassioned soldier who took a
        lighted tree into the French trenches to stop the shooting, and found 
the enemy
        were Algerian Islamic troops, who knew nothing of Christmas. In 
astonishment
        at the apparition, they put down their rifles. The tale, allegedly from 
Kruss's
        grandfather, came from his uncle, who had been at the front, I 
discovered, opposite
        the 45th Division of the Armeé d'Afrique.

        The last veteran associated with the real thing, Alfred Anderson, died 
at 109 on 
        21 November, in a nursing home in Scotland. In 1914, he was 18, and in 
the Black
        Watch. Off the line in reserve, Anderson was sheltering in a 
dilapidated farmhouse
        on Christmas Eve, when British and German troops, emerged from their 
trenches
        in the darkness near by, and fraternised. A spokesman for the Royal 
British Legion
        of Scotland called him "the last surviving link with a time that 
shimmers on the edge
        of our folk memory".

        It could not have been better phrased, for Anderson was only on the 
edge of that
        remarkable event. He heard the stillness, the suddenly silent night in 
embattled
        Flanders. By New Year's Eve the firing almost everywhere along the line 
had
        restarted. Hundreds of thousands would die before the armistice four 
gory years
        later in November 1918.

        Attempts at other Christmas truces failed. On 22 July 2001, Bertie 
Felstead, a
        veteran of the Royal Welch Fusiliers, died aged 106. He was also called 
"the last
        known survivor of the Christmas truce". The longer he lived, the more 
famous he
        became. He recalled hearing the Fritzes call out "Merry Christmas, 
Tommy!" and
        playing football with the enemy in no man's land, bartering souvenirs, 
singing
        carols. But he said the experience lasted only half an hour, a fleeting 
moment for so
        much to have happened to him. And the year was 1915. A second truce, he 
called
        it. Yet both the British and the German headquarters issued explicit 
orders, under
        pain of punishment, that there was to be no repetition of the 
extraordinary 1914
        stoppage of the war, football included. Wars were to be fought, with no 
holidays
        from the killing.

        Two officers who tried to initiate that second truce, Captain Miles 
Barnes and
        Captain Sir Iain Colquhoun of the 1st Scots Guards, did so ostensibly 
to bury the
        dead. The two sides mingled briefly and returned to their lines. For 
the rest of
        Christmas Day, Colquhoun said, "the Germans walked about and sat on 
their
        parapets. Our men did much the same, but remained in their trenches. 
Not a shot
        was fired".

        A court martial was convened, and the two officers were reprimanded, 
the mildest
        sentence possible. So went the abortive 1915 truce. It is more than 
possible that
        Felstead's vivid memories traded upon the tales of his Welch Fusilier 
comrades who
        were in the trenches in 1914.

        Such wartime truces as in 1914 are no longer likely. My late friend 
Nigel Nicolson,
        an army captain in Italy in 1943, heard the Germans ringing bells on 
Christmas Eve
        from a church high on a nearby hill. "Can we stop shooting?" he asked a 
superior.
        "Not on your life," he was told. 

        The more vast the cultural and ideological divide, the more improbable 
such truces
        become. There could have been no shared Christmases with the Japanese 
in the
        Pacific war between 1941 and 1945, nor now with Islamic combatants in 
Iraq.

        A Christmas truce seems in our new century an impossible dream from a 
more
        simple, vanished world. Peace is indeed, even briefly, harder to make 
than war.


        Stanley Weintraub is the author of 'Silent Night: the Remarkable 1914 
Christmas
        Truce' and 'Iron Tears: Rebellion in America' (both Simon & Schuster). 
        'Joyeux Noël' is in cinemas now 

===================================================================



------------------------ Yahoo! Groups Sponsor --------------------~--> 
Clean water saves lives.  Help make water safe for our children.
http://us.click.yahoo.com/YNG3nB/VREMAA/E2hLAA/xYTolB/TM
--------------------------------------------------------------------~-> 

New Pacifica Working Group
http://www.egroups.com/group/NewPacifica
'Save Our Stations!' 
Yahoo! Groups Links

<*> To visit your group on the web, go to:
    http://groups.yahoo.com/group/NewPacifica/

<*> To unsubscribe from this group, send an email to:
    NewPacifica-unsubscribe@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

<*> Your use of Yahoo! Groups is subject to:
    http://docs.yahoo.com/info/terms/
 






questions/problems with archive to: webmaster@mcabee.org
Mail converted by MHonArc 2.6.12