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They said it would be over in time for Christmas. It was one of the ways they got so many people to sign up. Jack and his friends, like many young boys, were promised a better life for when they returned if they joined the cause. And for a boy who, at best, could hope for two small meals a day, that sounded pretty good. It’d be an adventure, and they had been promised that friends who signed up together, would be stationed together. They’d get to see a new country, fight the good fight, and then be home as heroes in time for Christmas. What was there not to like? Well as it turned out, quite a lot. But the recruitment officers wouldn’t tell them any of that. After all, they were so keen on getting more men that they overlooked underage soldiers.
Jack’s initial concern was that they’d miss the battle with how long they were in training, which he had thought to be rather pointless, really. Several months of stabbing sacks with bayonets and learning to march in straight lines. It was hardly revolutionary. But the route was nice, and he was fed better than he thought. And as it turned out, he didn’t miss the war. He was there just in time. Well, he had plenty of time before the war would end, but of course he didn’t know that at the time. As it happened, he arrived in the trenches at the start of December, barely 15 years old, and having been immediately separated from his friends. And now, he was sitting in a snow filled trench on Christmas Eve, bored out of his mind. Still, it could always be worse. The booming of the artillery had stopped briefly, and he was hardly going to miss that racket. He wouldn’t be surprised if, by the end of the war, those shells would have rattled his brain right out of his head.
But the worst part, by far, was the homesickness. Of course, he missed London, but he couldn’t even write to Bert properly. Since the sweep had also signed up, there was nobody back in London waiting on him. And as Bert was lucky enough to get into the cavalry, he was always on the move, making it pretty difficult to get letters sent. Still, he’d made friends with one man in particular, who helped make things a little easier. George Banks had become a sort of father figure. Jack couldn’t help but laugh at the fact. How on Earth was it so easy for him to find father figures, despite his actual father being so hopeless?
Well, as it turned out, George Banks was the father of the girl on Cherry Tree Lane that Jack used to wave to on his lighting route. He’d only seen him once or twice, but since they were stuck in a crowded trench together, they had become much closer. Apparently, Jack’s presence had triggered his paternal instincts, and he took the young leerie under his wing almost immediately after meeting him. He’d even written to his family back home to tell them about him, clearly enthusiastic about his ‘temporary son’. So as Christmas came around and soldiers started receiving small gifts from home, it was a pleasant surprise for Jack when George told him that his family had sent him a gift, too.
A Cadbury’s chocolate bar. And not a small snack sized one, but rather the huge ones that are made for sharing with the family. It really was a surprise, and one he was especially grateful for. Jack didn’t get to have chocolate very often, even while he was back in London. There simply wasn’t enough money for it, aside for a rare treat. And when you’re living on rations, that treat makes all the difference.
It was around this time when the magic began. And for once in his life, it wasn’t Mary Poppins. Jack and George had been sitting outside. With all the more sheltered areas already being taken, they were forced to sit out in the snow, and so had taken to keeping each other warm by huddling together on a small bench.
But just as Jack was starting to fall asleep, he started to hear something. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, especially with the wind distorting the noise somewhat. But after a minute or so, it got louder. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was.
Voices.
The Germans were singing.
Now, with the will of the wind, it was still quite hard to figure out the tune. But Jack had picked up some German while he was there. He liked learning languages, and with nothing else to do in the trenches, why not. So, as he tried to listen carefully, he could make out a few words, which turned to a few phrases as their volume increased. Their whole trench must have been singing by now.
Stille nacht, heilige nacht, alles schläft, einsam wacht.
Silent night.
Jack barely noticed as he started singing along quietly to himself, each word sung softly enough so as not to disturb his comrades. But clearly, he wasn’t the only one who heard them. George’s voice joined him in an instant, happily singing along with more confidence than Jack. And as they looked to each other with a smile, more of the soldiers took notice. And before they even realised what was happening, the whole trench joined the song, singing loud and proud to make sure the Germans heard them, beaming smiles across their faces. And it worked perfectly. Across no mans land, their enemy clearly heard their melody, but instead of trying to outdo them, they raised their voices and harmonised.
Over the whistle of the wind, their voices soared, each voice harmonising differently for what suited them best. And before they knew it, they had a whole choir.
Silent night, holy night!
Alles schläft; einsam wacht
Round yon virgin, mother, and child.
Holder knabe im lockigen haar,
Sleep in heavenly peace,
Schlaf in himmlischer ruh!
A soothing melody danced across the snowflakes, as their voices mingled in the wind. A moment of peace that was appropriate for the time of year. After so many consecutive days of continuous artillery fire, the moment of reprieve with the soft singing soothed his pounding head, like he was finally getting to lie down and sleep after marching for two days straight. For the first time since he arrived in the trench, he felt relaxed and genuinely couldn’t hold back his grin. And as the night wore on, and the singing finally faded out as people’s voices wore out, Jack found himself wondering whether or not he would be able to face the enemy in future, again.
So, when the stars faded into the morning mist and the British soldiers began to rise from their beds along the Western Front, it was a bit of a let down to have to go back to normal. The patrols were out in their droves, wandering up and down the way with no particular intention but to make sure nothing was going horribly wrong. But on this particular morning, Christmas Day, there wasn’t much of anything to go wrong in the first place, because there simply wasn’t much of anything happening at all.
Bored and sitting around with bugger-all to do, Jack was merely one of many looking for a more valuable way to spend his time. A spry robin had been hopping along the barbed wire, bringing the only hint of colour to the drab winter wasteland so heavily buried beneath the snow. It twittered and danced along twisted metal and scarred soil that had probably once been a luscious fields and farmland. Now it acted merely as the dead space settled between opposing forces who had done little more than sit still in an eternal stalemate.
But that little robin, he didn’t seem to care about any of it at all. The festive little bird happily skittered along, twirling between craters without a care in the world. And the more he looked, the more Jack longed to join him. The more he wished everyone could join him. Surely, on just one day of the year they could put aside this silly war and enjoy themselves. It wasn’t as if they were expecting orders to make a big push, after all. And it wasn’t as if there was going to be much in the way of a personal feud between each side. There’d been so little fighting along this end of the Western Front that nobody would be wishing for any personal revenge for fallen friends. They were all just random people waiting to kill each other because some politicians said they should hate each other.
George had explained why they were fighting to him many times, but Jack was still confused. Apparently Serbia and Austria were fighting because a Serbian guy shot their Archduke in Bosnia. Russia was allies with Serbia, so they got involved. This scared Austria so their ally Germany stepped in to defend them. Since Germany would be busy fighting Russia, the western border would be undefended, so they decided to also attack France by going through Belgium. And since the UK and Belgium were allies, that meant the British army had to get involved to help Belgium and France fight the Germans. Jack found it even more ridiculous when he found out that the King of England, Tsar or Russia, and German Emperor were all grandchildren of Queen Victoria. To Jack, the who mess sounded more like a family feud to him. Hardly a war worth sending millions of troops to die in. What was worse, however, was that with all the empires getting involved, that meant foreign territories were getting dragged into it as well. The war was already spreading outside of Europe, with places like Canada, Australia and India joining in due to their links with the UK. Jack was beginning to fear this would become a world war. And lets face it, it would only be a matter of time before the Americans would want to join in, too. They’d take any excuse to have a war with someone. They were always desperate to “free” people as if they were some sort of deity level saviour. And more contenders in this pointless war was really the last thing anybody needed. In Jack’s opinion, the world would be much better off if it’s leaders would hash out personal feuds between themselves instead of dragging millions of innocent people into it.
It was this mindset that left Jack more and more fed up. He could have been at home right now. It was Christmas Day, and he was sitting in a half flooded, rat-infested, frozen insipid trench in the arse end of France doing bugger all of value for a so called “greater purpose.” Meanwhile, a little robin was able to dance freely wherever he felt like, because nobody cared what an innocent little robin thought about anything. Truthfully, Jack rather felt like that little robin had the best mindset of them all. Why couldn’t they just stop fighting? Surely he wasn’t the only person in the entire world who felt that way. Statistically, there at least had to be a few on the German side who’d share his vision. And maybe that would be all it took to convince everyone else to join in. Even if only for the day.
Even if only for Christmas.
And maybe he should have been more frightened than he was, but whatever the case, beyond his better judgement, Jack found himself climbing from his trench, arms raised and holding his hat in the hopes of convincing the Germans he meant no harm. He didn’t even bother taking his bayonet rifle up with him. What would be the point? If they decided to shoot, they’d take him out with a sniper or a machine gun long before he got close enough to use a rifle.
Across the trenches, Jack could already hear the commotion as he was spotted through the periscope. But it was quickly drowned out by the commotion in his own trench as his drowsy comrades noticed what he was doing and perked up. He could even feel George behind him, grasping his ankle in an attempt to drag him back down before he was shot. But the Germans had made no attempt to harm him yet, and he could already see them taking aim. They could if they wanted to.
So, they mustn’t have wanted to kill him yet.
“What the bally-hell do you think you’re doing, boy?!” He heard George bellow below him, much louder over the general chorus of “NO!”s and “STOP!”s being shouted by everyone else. Kicking his ankle free, Jack stood on shaking legs at the top of the trench, and as he looked beyond him, his heart almost stopped.
Across no man’s land, there stood another man, looking equally cautious, as he exited the German trench. He held his arms up to show he was unarmed and with great trepidation, crept towards him. His heart hammering in his chest, Jack fought against the rising feeling in his gut that wanted so desperately to start sprinting. He’d never stood in no man’s land without having to run for his life. But one wrong move and he could startle to German side into attacking him.
But with each step closer, the German man also took a step towards him, their feet crunching in the snow to provide the only sound around them for miles. Behind each of them, an army of men silently watched with bated breaths, knowing their was no point in trying to call them back now. But what Jack hesitated and looked behind him, that didn’t stop the pleading look in George’s eyes telling him to come back. But it was too late for that, now. At least, it was in Jack’s mind.
“Everything’s going to be fine.” Jack told himself. And if he said it enough, he could almost believe it. And as he stepped forward, finally coming face to face with the German man before him and offering a smile.
“Hello,” He said, unsure if the man before him knew English, “My name’s Jack.”
“I am Rolf.” He said, carefully thinking of his English words and hoping he got the grammar right. He looked quite shy, but Jack couldn’t quite tell if that was just his nature, or if it was more down to the nerves of colluding with the enemy.
“Nice to meet you Rolf.”
Looking past Rolf, Jack could see an army of Germans leaving the trench behind him, each, thankfully, unarmed and walking with twice as much caution as Rolf had done. They came like an encroaching wall of men, and the crunching footsteps in the snow behind Jack told the young leerie that his comrades were doing the exact same thing. And when they finally came close enough, Jack was able to look to either side of him and see men exchanging handshakes and pleasantries. With most people knowing at least a little of each other’s languages, they managed to muddle through their conversations, and with everyone in the same boat, were able to laugh about it as they did so.
It was hard to believe what they were doing, but as the minutes passed, everyone quickly fell in step with one another. The moment lieutenant Peckham pulled out a camera, everyone was laughing and joking as they pulled faces for the photos. Some men even worked together to repair their belongings and bury the dead, completely putting aside their differences in favour of showing respect to innocent men caught up in the world leaders’ great chess game. Then Corporal Lewisham brought out the ball he and some of the lads used to play footie when the rotation sent them back behind the front lines for a break where they’d have the room to play, and with the hardest kick he could muster, sent it flying into the crowd as a universally understood call for anyone who wanted to, to come play. And when Jack and Rolf, who were showing each other photos of the families, saw the ball get pelted overhead, they both rushed in to join the match.
It may have only been an informal kick-about, but everyone took it very seriously. Captain Thomas, the ref for the match, had the rather ingenious idea of using hats as cards. The red rimmed staff hats were the red cards, and his own plain hat took the role of a yellow card. And with so many people wanting to join in with only one ball, the teams ended up being much bigger than any real football team ever would be. 25 on 27 was the final count. And with goal posts marked by bayonets stabbed into the ground with coats hung on them, and the pitch merely being the area with the least barbed wire and landmines, it was a little chaotic to say the least. Surprisingly, no red hats needed to be given, but seeing Captain Thomas pull a plain hat on Brigadier Anderson was something to behold. And surprisingly, the Germans were more than happy to let the Brit play the ref. But his adamance over Anderson’s plain hat was probably responsible for that. He proved he was completely unbiased.
At half time, lunch rations were shared between sides, and George proudly advertised the makeshift barber shop he had set up at pitch-side. Turns out he was quite a dab-hand with a rusty pair of scissors. Hair was trimmed, taches were shaved. Everyone was tidied right up while private Thorn acted as his assistant and held the tiny, cracked mirror. And once the match restarted, the spectators switched between watching the match and getting themselves a trim. Even some of the staff-sergeants from behind the front lines came down in their cars and on their motorbikes to join in the fun. But by the end of it, everyone was looking dapper, and Germany squeaked a win from the intensely close game at 4-3. To which Anderson had quickly joked that they better appreciate the win, because they wouldn’t be winning the war.
As the afternoon wore on, some men exchanged gift with one another, and even contact details to be able to stay in touch after the truce. Sure, they likely wouldn’t be able to post letters to each other’s trenches, but that couldn’t stop them from writing once the rotten business of the war was over.
And for Jack and Rolf, that was a future the two young men were quickly beginning to hope for. As they bonded throughout the day, they even had the idea to bring a little more festive cheer. Rushing off to a nearby patch of trees, the pair borrowed an axe and set about cutting down one of the smaller trees and dragging it back to the party. Whereupon Rolf and Jack relinquished their scarves to wrap around it’s branches in decoration, providing a very festive shade of red. A few men even took some candles meant for keeping the trenches alight and fixed them to the tree, and lieutenant Field’s barbed wire star for the top was simply magnificent.
“That’s some fine work there, lads.” George beamed, looking to Rolf and Jack.
“Hey, why don’t we do some more carols like we did last night?” Came Jack’s suggestion. The moment had been so special, and he was desperate to be able to recreate it while being able to see who he was singing alongside. Hell, after the day he’d had, Jack was almost certain he could pick out hearing Rolf’s voice in the song last night. Only this time, after the day together everyone was in a much more boisterous mood, and after indulging in the extra Christmas alcohol rations, the songs became a lot more jovial with lyric changes and some entire rewrites coming from private Jones: a pianist at a local ballroom in his civvie days.
But of course, reality would soon come crashing back down. And as the sun began to set, the festivities were rudely interrupted by the resumption of artillery fire in the distance. And, knowing that it wouldn’t be long before the artillery restarted at their post, everyone was left scrambling to grab their belongings and say goodbye to their new friends before it was too late.
Dashing over to the football goal posts, Jack fetched his bayonet that had featured as the left post on the German side and collected the two coats hung on top of it. One British and the other German. How they were meant to go back to fighting after this, he’d never know. But at least after this day, he could hope that they might go a little easier on each other. And maybe, just maybe, the generals and the politicians could learn from this and realise there were other ways to deal with a problem than just killing each other. They could even make new allies on the way. But Jack knew better than to hope for such things. The world was a cruel place, after all. He knew that better than most people. But that was ok. Because it meant that when someone did do something nice, their kindness shone even brighter by contrast.
He took the coats back to Rolf and the two slipped them back on with a smile. They may have only known each other for the day, but it would be hard not to miss each other.
“It was great meeting you Rolf,” Jack beamed, “It’s been a lovely day.”
“I had lots of fun, too.” Rolf smiled back, “Don’t forget to write when this war is all over.” Jack chuckled.
“Trust me, if I’m still kicking, you can expect plenty of letters from me.”
“Come along now, Hackney.” Behind him, the voice of George called, clearly mindful that they were going to be one of the last waves of people to return to the trench, and he didn’t want to get caught up in artillery or have anyone thinking they deserted. So, Jack and Rolf little choice but to exchange a quick farewell and hurry back with their comrades. And as they did, both couldn’t help but look back at one another as they went, making an effort to commit each other’s faces to memory. They would find each other one day. They had to.
And so, when Jack finally returned to the trench, clambered down the rickety ladder and plonked himself down on a bench to begin his evening watch, he couldn’t help but smile to himself. Taking out his rations for the evening, he began his dinner. It was a rather scrawny portion that on any other day, he would have made up for with that chocolate treat. But Jack knew how the world worked. In the dismal grey, a little act of kindness goes a long way and shines brighter than any star by comparison to life’s harsh realities. And today, Jack wanted to spread one last piece of Christmas cheer. So, when Rolf made it back to the trench he called home and slipped his hands in his pockets to escape the evening chill, he was greeted by a large slim rectangular package. And upon taking it out, found it to be none other than a bar of Cadbury’s chocolate.
“Frohe Weihnachten, Jack.” Rolf whispered to himself, looking up into no man’s land at that beautiful tree they had decorated. It may have been small and scrawny, with the most limited decorations ever seen. But in their eyes, there had never been anything more beautiful. For it stood among a wave of death and devastation and reminded everyone that they were so much more than soldiers. They had hearts, families, and whole other lives back home. Jack the leerie, and Rolf the baker. And with it being so hard to remember at times, the day was all the more special. It really was the perfect Christmas.
“Happy Christmas, Rolf.”
And what Jack thought was merely a small act of kindness on a single day of the year, soon turned out to be so much more. Jack was right when he assumed there must have been others who didn’t want to fight on Christmas. As all up and down the Western Front, legions of soldiers all held their own truces: playing games, exchanging gifts, singing songs, and making friends. A story that would easily outlive all of them, with their little kick-about football games going down in legend as if it were the FA cup final. Generals feared this kindness would lead each side to refuse to fight one another and did everything in their power to stop this day repeating. But the world would remember the Christmas truce of 1914. A day where no amount of propaganda could cover up the fact that every man in every army were merely human and just wanted to do their bit to help. They weren’t trying to be evil or wanted to be violent. They just wanted to do what they thought was right for their country. And on that day, the right thing was peace.
When Jack looked back on that day in the years ahead., he couldn’t help but laugh. It was hard to believe that both sides advanced more during one Christmas piss-up than they managed in the next four years of war. Brigadier Anderson would turn out to be right about the war, after all. The Germans failed to win. But by that point, it was safe to say that a lot of people didn’t even care who won. They just wanted it to be over. They just wanted to go home. And that was certainly the case for Jack.
But when he returned, Jack remembered his promise and wrote to Rolf regularly. The two quickly fell back into their old lives and routines, but they never forgot one another. Money was certainly a little too tight for them to travel to each other’s countries and meet again, but they always kept each other up to date with their lives.
And this year, just like every year, when Jack received his letter from Rolf (who had by now, like Jack, become fluent in the other’s language), he would open a small package to find a large slim bar of chocolate all the way from Germany. Rolf never forgot that gift from Jack. After all, when the world is dark and grey, little acts of kindness always shine brighter by comparison.
“Happy Christmas, Jack.”
“Frohe Weihnachten, Rolf.”