Christmas Truce in the trenches in 1914
As we celebrate Christmas, I am reminded of one of the more curious events that happened in the First World War
- “The Christmas Truce of 1914”, which on the Western Front.
It all appears to have started on the evening of 24th December, the day the Germans traditionally celebrate Christmas.
A Christmas tree went up in one of the German trenches and the Germans began singing Christmas carols, some of which the British troops recognised.
The British responded by singing carols of their own and this was soon followed by an exchange of greetings across the trenches.
Then incredibly the Germans proposed a "Christmas Truce” and the British troops along miles of trenches accepted.
Soldiers left their trenches and met up in the middle of “No Man’s Land” and shook hands.
The first thing they did was to bury the dead.
Then they exchanged gifts: Chocolate, cake, cognac, postcards, newspapers, tobacco.
And at least one football match was played between English and German troops, which the Germans won
3-2.
"Just you think," wrote one British soldier to his family back home, "that while you were eating your turkey, etc, I was out talking and shaking hands with the very men I had been trying to kill a few hours before!
It was astounding!"
"It was a day of peace in war," commented a German soldier,
"It is only a pity that it was not decisive peace."
But it didn't last.
In fact, when the generals heard about it they weren’t impressed and ordered their troops to resume hostilities.
And the First World War stumbled on until the Armistice at 11.00am on 11th November 1918.
As we look at the meaning of Christmas, we need to unwrap Jesus from all the glitter and tinsel around us.
We need to see for ourselves that Christmas is not all about giving the most expensive Christmas presents we can afford or looking for pre-Christmas bargains in the shops.
It is all about God’s precious gift to us, His Son Jesus, the Prince of Peace.
As we look at the destruction of war and terrorist attacks going on in many countries today, we need that “peace that the world cannot give.”
Jesus, whose birth two thousand years ago, we celebrate at Christmas, was the same young man who died, thirty three years later, on a Roman Cross.
Why - to bring us true peace with God and concomitantly with our neighbour.
For Christmas cannot be divorced from Easter.
Jesus is the One who can bring true peace to the nations – to the peoples of Iraq, of Afghanistan and of the Holy Land – to name but a few places.
And as we celebrate Christmas in peace and tranquillity, let us remember those who will have no peace over Christmas at this time.
And closer to home Jesus can bring peace to us and our families – if we will let Him.
Jesus left us two great Commandments.
The first was this. To “love the Lord your God with all your heart, with all your soul and with all your mind (Mt 22:37) and the second was to “Love your neighbour as yourself” (Mt 22:39)
I am reminded of a popular reading in the Traditional Service of 9 carols and Lessons form Isaiah 6:
“For to us a child is born
To us a Son is given
And the government will be on his shoulders
And he will be called Wonderful Counsellor,
Mighty God, Everlasting Father,
Prince of Peace “(Isaiah 9:6)
But just before I close I would like to read you a letter from the trenches from an enlisted soldier called Tom to his sister Janet
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!
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 with 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
An Amazing story which has been well authenticated about how Christmas brought peace in 1914 in the trenches of World War 1
Can I leave you with the thought.
Jesus came as the Prince of Peace and how can we preach the Good News of Jesus in our villages
It might need us to step outside our comfort zones as those soldiers did to tell people of the real story of Christmas
