In 1914, In a frozen hell, soldiers found the meaning of “Goodwill Towards Men.”

Christmas Truce of 1914 wiki



Short Video on the Christmas Truce

Christmas in the trenches -John McCutcheon

The initial bloody battles of the summer and fall had stagnated to a stalemate of sorts, And the hastily dug trenches on either side of no man’s land had become a gory sort of home for the men on the front lines. Still adapting to this new war, the generals behind the lines were slow to abandon the ingrained strategies of bygone battles and sent soldiering sons to the slaughter in the storm of steel.

In frozen holes they cowered and clung, teeth a chatter, as winter set in and trenches of blood-stained mud became an icy mausoleum for many. And yet even in that icy hellscape, the magic of Christmas somehow found its way into the hearts of men, and for Christmas, a mutual Truce was declared.


Christmas Trees were raised in places where shells had razed the forests. Garlad was hung instead of barbed wire. And instead of poison death drifting across No Man's Land, the sound of Christmas songs, in German, French and English, danced in the air.

Men on either side, who had scant hours before been engaged in ending life, were now celebrating it. Christmas came the same to Germans as it did to Frenchmen, Brits and Scots. Though the tongues may have been foreign, the tunes were not. And in that brief respite from hell, they exchanged volleys of song instead of bullets.

In an extraordinary show of courage, a soldier unarmed but for a truce flag walked into the killing field, not knowing if his foolhardiness would be rewarded with the crack of rifles. Instead he found a similarly brave handshake marching to greet him, and wishing a Merry Christmas.

And then, the trenches erupted. The fear and hate was banished as men from both sides flooded no man's land and celebrated Christmas in their own way. They traded cards and shared small gifts. Tobacco, alcohol, candy, cards and pictures from home. In some places a friendly game of football was played, illuminated by flarelight usually used to aid artillery fire.


Soldiers saw standing next to them, not monsters, not beasts as the propaganda would have them believe, but men and boys the same as them. Serving their country. Doing their "duty". Missing wives and sweethearts and children back home. Cold, cramped and tired. But they shared their humanity that Christmas, bound by cultural ties that knew no borders or nationalities, but "Peace and Good will towards men."


And as suddenly as that peace and good will had stolen upon No Man's Land, Christmas ended, and with it the truce. They rushed back to their respective trenches once more as the cannons belched their screaming death into that starry sky, and The War returned.

But it was said that those who experienced that wonderous event were changed somehow. That no longer was the enemy down their barrel some faceless butcher, but Friedrich from Munich, who liked French chocolate and whose little Ingrid was turning 5 in the spring. Or Thomas from Birmingham, who liked Irish whisky and blonde girls with pretty voices. They were men thrust into the same horrid situation, sitting in the trench they were only by the providence of their place of birth.

It was said that the soldiers there hesitated to shoot thereafter, or missed on purpose. Correspondences were sent across the lines to check on the condition of "the lad who played the fife so well", "that German fiddler", or "the one who sang so well". Regiments were shifted because soldiers were reluctant to engage those they had met in shared brotherhood that Christmas.

There was no widespread truce the following Christmas, or any thereafter. The commanding officers would not risk something which might show the humanity of the enemy or inhibit the slaughter when the time came. But for that one brief time, in late December of 1914, peace reigned, and those men found that on either end of the rifle, they were not so different.

And so, as we sit warm, putting together presents for little ones who mercifully know not the scourge of the terrible brother wars that claimed the lives of so many sons, raise a glass to those that fought. To those that died, and those that returned and raised a new generation. Raise a glass to the ones who sacrificed themselves again in the senseless slaughters after. May they lessons they taught not be forgotten, and may those that celebrate today appreciate how good we have it, however bleak and pointless it may seem sometimes.

Let the same Christmas magic find its way into the hearts of men, an the pointless lines that divide us be banished, if only for a little while, as we celebrate Christmas. Peace on Earth, and goodwill towards men.

Merry Christmas.