The unofficial Christmas truce of 1914 still has enormous symbolic power today.
If there is one thing that can be written into the history of the extremely bloody First World War as a symbol (even if only fleetingly) of humanity, it is the unofficial Christmas truce of 1914. At a time when the front lines were already permeated with the stench of death and destruction, a Christmas story took place that can be spoken of as a miracle without exaggeration.
The context of the First World War
The First World War (1914-1918) erupted over long-standing tensions between powers vying for colonies and influence. The trigger was the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand in Sarajevo (28 June 1914), after which Austria-Hungary (with German support) declared war on Serbia. Soon Russia, Germany, France, Great Britain and other states joined in, and the war flared up on the western and eastern fronts and in the colonies. Initial ideas that the fighting would be over within six months proved wrong – and instead, extremely brutal mechanized trench warfare ensued, with huge casualties.
For an idea of the harsh conditions, just watch the film All Quiet on the Western Front. In total, over 60 million soldiers were mobilised between 1914 and 1918, of whom some 9.5 million died.
Christmas Miracle 1914
This is certainly not how any of the soldiers who froze, starved and died in the trenches in December 1914 imagined “heroism in battle”. It had only been a few months since the fighting began and it was already clear that this was not going to be a quick war with minimal casualties, but a long and gruelling anabasis in which hundreds of thousands would die. The inhospitable conditions were taking their toll on the physical and mental state of the soldiers. Many soldiers reminisced about their families, the warmth of home, and (at least before the war) the familiar peace of Christmas. But instead, there was always fog, rain, frozen ground and death all around them… and the enemy still buried in front of them.
But on the night of Christmas Eve 1914, strange things began to happen.
In some parts of the front, the artillery gradually stopped firing that day. The Germans placed candles on their trenches and the singing of Christmas carols echoed through the frosty silence.
The same thing happened on the other side – and the British responded by singing their own carols. Both sides shouted Christmas greetings to each other across a field of barbed wire. Then the first brave men-half with apprehension, half with relief-climbed to the edge of the trench and waited to see if the other side would take advantage. But no one fired a shot.
The soldiers of both sides went into “no man’s land,” facing each other. And when they met, they shook hands, chatted in broken speech, exchanged cigarettes and cookies. One of the most touching moments came when some – despite the mud and craters – even played an impromptu game of football.
(Christmas Truce on the Western Front, 1914. British and German officers meeting in No Man’s Land during an unofficial truce.)
One eyewitness, German Lieutenant Johannes Niemann, described it in a letter: “I grabbed my binoculars and cautiously looked over the edge (of the trench) where I got an incredible view of our soldiers exchanging cigarettes, liquor and chocolate with the enemy.”
It seemed incredible to everyone.
Captain Sir Edward Hulse: … a chant which we all joined in, English, Scots, Irish, Prussians, Württenbergers, etc. It was absolutely stunning, and if I saw it on a cinematographic film, I would swear it was faked!
Bruce Bairnsfather, who fought throughout the war, wrote: “I wouldn’t have missed that unique and strange Christmas Day for anything… I saw a German officer, I think a lieutenant, and being a bit of a collector, I suggested to him that I liked some of his buttons….. I got out my wire cutters and with a few deft cuts I took off a couple of his buttons and put them in my pocket. Then I gave him two of mine in return….. Last I saw, one of my machine-gunners, who was something of an amateur hairdresser in civilian life, was cutting the unnaturally long hair of the pliant Boche, who was kneeling patiently on the ground while the automatic scissors crept up the back of his neck.”
Henry Williamson, a nineteen-year-old private in the London Rifle Brigade, wrote to his mother: “I write to you from the trenches. It is eleven o’clock in the morning. Coke is burning beside me, and opposite me is a ‘trench’ (wet) with straw. In my own trench the ground is muddy, but elsewhere it is frozen. In my mouth is a pipe given to me by Princess Mary. There is tobacco in the pipe. Of course, you say to yourself. But wait. There’s German tobacco in the pipe. Haha, you say, from a prisoner or found in a captured trench. Oh, no! From a German soldier. Yes, from a live German soldier in his own trench. Yesterday the British and Germans met and shook hands in the ground between the trenches, exchanged souvenirs and shook hands. Yes, all day at Christmas, and as I write. Amazing, isn’t it?”
But every miracle comes to an end. Doesn’t it?
The unofficial ceasefire, which arose quite spontaneously, varied from sector to sector, but many testimonies agree that in certain sections of the front this Christmas calm lasted for several days. But the commanders of both sides were not the least bit happy about such fraternization. They feared an undermining of discipline and a loss of fighting spirit. Orders to break contact arrived rather quickly, and so the Christmas “peace” soon fizzled out. And by the end of December, most of the shooting was back to normal.
However, for all those who took part in that silent truce, it was an unforgettable moment: a moment when even in the frozen mud of the trenches, a shred of humanity could be found.
And although it was, in terms of the whole war, just a brief episode in which quite ordinary people from England or Germany shook hands, the story still has enormous symbolic power today. For example, in the realisation that, in the end, it is only human again on the other side of the trench.
The photographs and letters that the soldiers sent home at the time testify to the fact that they were able, for a brief moment, to let go of hostilities, which still symbolises the hope that in conflicts it is possible to forget the battle lines at any time – if only for a brief moment – and remember what unites us.
The events were the subject of the 2005 film Joyeux Noel (Merry Christmas), directed by Christian Carion:
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