--Leutnant Johannes Niemann, 133rd. Saxon Regiment
Posted on 12/24/2003 6:38:27 AM PST by JohnGalt
The Christmas Truce By Robin Oliver December 23, 2003
Eighty-nine years ago this Christmas, just eight kilometres from the Flemish city of Ypres, an extraordinary event occurred between German and British troops in the narrow and perilous strip of no-man's land separating their trenches.
Here on Christmas Eve on the British side of a muddy landscape, with the bodies of soldiers killed in the first Battle of Ypres two months earlier still lying where they fell, could be heard the sounds of Germans singing. It was thought they had been drinking. Alcohol was barred in the British front lines but the Germans had no such restrictions. When the British realised the Germans were singing Silent Night, they joined in.
Early next morning, a British sentry was startled to see an unarmed German soldier advancing towards the British lines holding high a candlelit Christmas tree. There would be no fighting that Christmas, nor for a few days after. Men from both sides cautiously emerged from their soggy trenches. Soon they were smiling and shaking hands. Together they buried their dead. Word of the fraternisation went back to British HQ. The two sides were even playing a makeshift game of soccer. The generals fumed. This had to be stopped. Orders went out but were ignored. One British Tommy, who negotiated for a German's spiked helmet, handed it back when it was explained it was needed the following day when the owner went on parade. The Germans took the helmet back but next day it was returned with due ceremony.
British officers strolled into no-man's land. Captain Bruce Bairnsfather, soon to become a famed war cartoonist and creator of the popular character Old Bill, joined his men and met his opposite number, Kurt Zehmisch .
Battle eventually resumed when a British sniper was ordered to shoot a German. Two further battles of Ypres would follow and 140 carefully tended cemetries mark the scene of the bloodiest battles of "the last war that didn't pay any attention to the loss of life".
--Leutnant Johannes Niemann, 133rd. Saxon Regiment
It has been an honor to converse with you all this past year. The mere effort to build a consensus on liberty is a noble cause in the battle for our Republic and the battle for men's souls.
Peace to you and your families. Merry Christmas. Cheers.
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
Reminds me of an early scene in the movie "Last of the Mohicans," when the British officer is recruiting a militia among a group of colonial farmers in a small village somewhere in upstate New York. Some of the farmers are concerned that if they leave their farms, their families will not be protected against attacks by the Ottawa and Huron tribes who are fighting with the French. Nathanial, the white man who was orphaned as a child and adopted by Chingachkook of the Mohicans, points out that it is the families of the farmers will be the ones exposed to attacks by the French and the Indians while the families of the British officers will be living comfortably in London, Boston, or New York.
Officer (angrily): "You call yourself a patriot, and loyal subject of the Crown?"
Nathanial (nonchalantly): "I don't call myself subject to much at all."
Similar scenes were played out during the American Civil War.
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