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 Read more [...]
Bought a truck from a gentleman today, white GMC Sierra 1500. Work truck. His wife of 34 years is in the last stages of lung cancer and has already lived well beyond her doctor’s predictions. He was in ill health himself, busted up from 50 years in construction, falling off ladders, lifting more than his back was ever designed for. I went over early to help unload a lifetime of tools from the truck and toolbox. Drills, ladders, levels, sanders: it all had to come out. We unloaded it onto his apartment deck where she sat in the morning sun, reading a book.
They offered me coffee and we sat together on the deck. I asked her what she was reading.
She laughed and said, “Anything anyone brings me, but I like thrillers and mysteries, the bloodier the better. Nothing too sweet or sugar-coated.”
“Reading’s really all I can do anymore,” she said. “Can’t walk, can’t work, can barely get to the bathroom.”
We talked about her grandson, off at college freshman year. He liked to fish and they’d given him their bass boat. The gentleman was attentive the whole time, back and forth to the kitchen with his cane, filling coffee cups and the silent spaces with thoughts of his own. A lovely couple nearing the end of this road.
We did the paperwork and I handed over the money in an envelope. Nobody bothered to count it.
“What’re you going to do with that money?” I asked. “Head down to Mexico?”
“I wish,” she said. “Would love more than anything to be sitting on a beach.” “That was always one of our favorite things, being at the beach. Maybe getting in some surf fishing. Just stick the rod in the sand and sit back, watching it, watching the water...”
She pointed at her mouth, then at him. “Actually, he’s gotta get his teeth fixed,” she said. “Lost his insurance and hasn't been to the dentist in twenty years. That’s where the money’s going.”
A pause.
“Think if I knew then what I know now I would have spent Read more [...]