A Christmas Story

Riflemen Andrew and Grigg (center)—British troops from London—during the Christmas Truce with Saxons of the 104th and 106th Regiments of the Imperial German Army

Belgium. December 25, 1914. Don’t stop me if you’ve heard this one. It’s worth re-telling.

On Christmas Eve, 1914 an officer with The Royal Irish Rifles reported to Headquarters, “The Germans have illuminated their trenches, are singing Christmas carols, and wishing us a Happy Christmas.” The lights along the German trenches were coming from small Christmas trees the soldiers had gathered, the first Christmas trees most Tommys had ever seen. The tradition of trees came from Germany. The war was then only 5 months old and most had expected it to end before Christmas. Not so. So far…

All through the night, the trees twinkled their message of brotherhood.

Soon soldiers up and down the line were joining in the singing, with some brave souls venturing out to share cigarettes, schnapps, and chocolate.

The festivities were started by the German Saxon soldiers, known to be more easygoing than their Prussian fellows. “We are Saxons, you are Anglo Saxons,” they shouted to the English across the cratered battlefield.

German-speaking was rare among the Brits, but many Germans spoke English, having worked in England prior to the war. Mostly in hospitality.

“I remember you,” One English officer remarked to a Fritz. “You were headwaiter at The Great Central Hotel.”

That night the two sides agreed to continue the truce through the next day, Christmas Day. To bury their fallen comrades. The Germans constructed homemade crosses for the English graves, a much-appreciated gesture. They shared graveside services, prayed together.

Some Scots produced a soccer ball and a game commenced over the frozen ground. A kickabout. The men were young and the game spirited. Much merriment was made of the Scot’s kilt undergarments. Which is to say nothing at all. Most accounts agree the Germans won the match 3-2.

All through that Christmas Day hostilities were paused and the men mingled between the lines to share pictures, memories, and rations. They sang carols together and chaplains on both sides led YuleTide services. At the end of the day as the sun set, they began to filter back to their lines, the muddy trenches that would be their homes for four more years. Most would not make it those four years. Over twenty-five million were killed in the course of the war.

But that day was a special day. A day when shared values and culture overcame the needs of war. A day when the true meaning of Christmas was shared by those who needed it the most. That Christ has come. For all of us.

4 Comments

    1. I should tell you the story of my Grandmother in the Mississippi delta, feeding the German POWs that were held there. She felt for them and the hard labor, mosquitoes and heat/humidity they were unaccustomed to. She would sneak peas and cornbread to them as she knew their rations would not sustain them. Before they left, one carved a German submarine out of a scrap of wood and gave it to her as a thank you. My uncle has the submarine and holds it in high esteem.

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