Welcome back to the Randomizer!
It's that time of year again, and it's only a couple of weeks away! Doesn't time fly.
Some of you may be wondering what do I have in store for you all for the month, or least what was more likely to be last week. Unfortunately, I had brought a nice new laptop at the end of September, and it was all nice and shiny. Then of all things, it had decided to destroy itself from within with only a hint of possibility that my work on that will be saved. (Thanks Windows...you bastards. Beware the automatic repair loop everyone). However my old laptop is still functioning and able to hold on to the task at hand, so that's something. I'm very sorry I couldn't have completed this sooner to everyone. It sucks when people who really should know better when an update doesn't work, to TAKE IT OFF THE SYSTEM!!
I'm not going to go into backing up work, because I know where I stand. :P.
Anyway, back to this.
Some of you have been wondering what I have in store for you all. Well:
What do World War 1 and Christmas have in common? The Christmas Truce.
This is one of the most human and important events to have ever taken place during the course of the war. You would have to live under a rock if you had no idea what I was talking about, like Justin Bieber. What I have decided to do, in honor of what happened during Christmas in the Trenches, was to write a short story. I had done short stories on this blog, before I had turned it into 'The Randomizer', so this is kind of a homecoming thing, but World War I takes precedence above all else.
At first I wasn't sure whether I felt I was in the right place to do a Christmas Truce story. The task seemed difficult to approach with the right mindset, and if my own interest would wane on it. On completing it today, I am happy to say I don't regret it in the slightest. They are many stories that go around what happened over that period, some warm, some very cold, and hearing what people were doing at the time, it really does make you sit down, and think about how only a few days in the calender can change one's life for a day. I hope my story will do that for you.
There are pictures included that I do not own, coming from various sources including the recent Sainburys advert, the 2005 film Joyeux Noel, a painting from John Nash, and pictures taken from the time.
So I'm going to stop writing and allow you to read:
Letter to Laura
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My darling Laura
You will not believe the story I have to tell you this
Christmas Day. You must not tell a living soul just yet. This letter will be
taken by Jim when he is on leave and hidden away carefully so our superiors
will not make amends, and so you may learn the truth. I dare say it might bring
those delicate tears to your eyes once more when I last saw you in August, to fight
the 'Hun'. I will apologise for any 'trench' humour that will be written. So
much has happened, that it is the only way to keep our own spirits up.
At the beginning of December came a heavy snowfall to both
sides. Everything turned to either frost or ice. Puddles, machine guns, even
our own piss seemed to freeze up. But we're doing our best. Your knitted scarf and
gloves has come in good use, though my face still takes the chill. The shakes
can be terrible at times. Jim made a challenge to the Hun to shoot him, while
he slid across the puddle strewn solid along our trench, and nearly broke his
ankle as he slipped onto the floor. I have to boil the water so that the
machine guns would keep firing. I forget how much I actually managed to draw up
and pour on the guns, the tedious boredom of it all.
Our commanding officer, 'Lollypop' as we call him, was all
too happy to keep ourselves in check for any fraternisation with the enemy. 'Any
man caught in my division will be posted on stand to for a week' he said.
Always patriotic, always wanting to be with the higher officers of HQ, even
though rumours have it that he was originally a coal miner from Newcastle. We
pretend not to hear anything. He once barked, teeth baring on all sides, at one
poor boy, Henry Cannons, who had spared the life of a Hun and threaten to send
him 'over the top' into No Man's Land, to see what they would do in kind. The
boy kept a brave face of it all, having a private cry to himself in the shelter
afterwards. He had never seen war before. The time may come fast for him, or
someone else.
We were all cheered up greatly thanks to two gifts from the Royal
Family. I was pleasantly surprised by the thought. King George and Queen Mary had
first sent us a card, with the simple words: 'With our best wishes for
Christmas 1914. May God protect you and bring you home safe. Mary R. George R'.
A photo had accompanied it of the two, The King dressed in military uniform,
The Queen in a splendid regal gown. I placed the photo into my jacket pocket,
to make sure it would not be lost thanks to the bombardment, or my own
forgetfulness.
The second gift was from Princess Mary, a gold gilded box.
It was impressive, listing all our allies on the top in small gold writing, and
with the image of the Princess herself in the centre. She looked radiant, yet
simple in design. I opened it up with shaking hands, and gasped. My own pipe, with
the added bonus of an ounce of tobacco to use inside. It felt so perfect to
hold in the palm of my hand. I dare to think it even rivals your father's. I
can't use it at night, in case the Hun can see the light bellowing from it. A
dear shame, to only be for use on leave from the front.
There was a second card in the tin. It simply read: 'With
best wishes for a Merry Christmas and a Victorious New Year, from Princess Mary
and friends at home'. I had chuckled at that. It reminded me of 'how the war
will be over by Christmas'. 'Lollypop' had used that as well, adding: 'We'll be
having our Christmas dinner in Berlin'. But we're not in Berlin, nor left the
line. I wonder if possible to help him try and get to Berlin by pushing him
over the top. We'd be happy enough to see him off, and give him a head start.
On the 23rd, it all happened. I had been standing
to since dusk, to wait for any sign of attack from their position. I found
myself shaking from the cold, so I placed my rifle on top of the parapet to
balance it, but my finger was almost shaking hard on the trigger. I was afraid
to shoot out into the dark and waste my shot, knowing as well 'Lollypop' would
have had a field day with that. 'Can't aim for Blighty' I can hear him say,
booming and rough. So I took deep breathes to try and cool my nerves as I
looked for any movement.
To my surprise, lights began to appear on their position,
raised up and placed just above their own parapet. I stared opened mouth,
wondering what they were doing. Then I closed my mouth, partly to keep my lips
from freezing, but also on realising: Christmas trees. They were better at
upholding traditions than we were it seems. All along the line you could see
how, as they placed more along their line, lit up they were. It broke the night
before us, all flashing up the mud and steel hats that had merged together to
create little mementos, the graves of those Hun and British alike.
'Stille Nacht, Heilige Nacht' I froze as I heard the all too
familiar tune, slowly calling from their trench. The cold air touched my lips
as I opened my mouth once more, gazing out to their position. The call was
deep, yet beautiful in harmony. I pressed my lips together again, not wishing
to shake more so than I was , and allowed the sound to fill my body with a
warming embrace. As they came to 'Sleep in heavenly peace', my voice found
itself on the last verse, and sang quietly. I'm not sure why I had brought
myself to do such a thing, but the moment seemed almost too perfect to not
capture. It surprises me how Christmas could bring friend and foe together.
Time of good will seemed stronger than what Lord Kitchener will tell you in his
poster.
Then I heard Jim's booming voice behind, louder than I would
ever muster, and possibly trying to challenge the Hun once more. Dennis Donaldson
did so too, with John Sharpe and Henry coming out of their shelters, all
bringing their voices to the table, joining in with our enemy hand in hand. 'Lollypop'
too was broken by the Christmas spirit, to our great flinches in the trench. It
was a most marvellous sight in the dimly lit frosted land. Nothing was going to
stop us.
As Christmas Eve came, we could see the trees more easily in
the grey strewn cloudy day. They were perfectly small sized and perfectly lined
up, enough to cover our entire cottage with, let alone allow for one to be kept
on a shelf. Perhaps we'd be able to sell them off and buy something proper for
ourselves!
The Germans did not fire along our line for the whole day. I
didn't blame them. This was the time of year. But of course, it didn't mean
everywhere had halted. Along the line we heard of attacks coming from both
sides, as the shells sounded little more than drums some miles away. We're not
sure how many have been killed, but High Command is relentless for the push forwards
to victory. Not even Christmas can break their spirits. I know their eyes lay
further, desperate to have their Christmas dinner in Berlin, with dear little
'Lollypop' at their side.
Despite the distant drums, word had spread around our line
that some were planning to hold a truce with the Germans over Christmas, with
even a talk about football on No Man's Land. I was sceptical if this could
happen to us, especially with those parts of the line still firing at each
other. But I wasn't doubtful. In the midst of craters and bodies, it seemed
perfectly reasonable to do so. I become more concerned with what kind of people
would they be like. Perhaps generous, kind, understanding? Uncertainty ruffled
my mind, wondering what could happen over the next day.
As night came again, we stood huddled with bully beef and tea
warming our dear bellies, waiting to hear if they would begin to sing again
among the shells, to fill our hearts with warmth. My hands shook hard as ever,
hidden from view in my jacket side pockets, as the shells flew overhead and
drummed in the distance. Soon we heard the tune to The First Noel, and joined
in halfway through the first verse. Together it seemed as if we would merge to
fill the space between trenches, our voices intertwined to bring peace finally
in this hell-ridden earth. It was a humbling experience to have embraced. We
continued on into the night, with The Holly and the Ivy and O Come All Ye
Faithful thrown out between us, Jim pushing his voice to near breaking point.
Dennis joked that we should all pretend to mouth the words while he continued.
As John saw his pocket watch finally strike midnight, we
raised our voices in salutation to the Germans: Merry Christmas. They returned
the reply almost immediately, and we got into a shouting match to see who would
end the call first. One lone German shouted from his position, and claimed the
victory. I turned back to my fellow men, and we all shook hands with each
other, gripping them firmly as I breathed deeply to remain calm, politely giving
our salutations to each other, keeping our eyes marked on each face. It was a
wonder if it be the last time any of us would see each other in the coming year.
Today, this Christmas morning, the clouds remained overhead.
We wondered at first if we would be beset with snow again. It would have been a
beautiful view, if not for the small humps that would form on top of our men
and friends. I was standing to once more, balancing rifle on top of parapet. I
hadn't much in the way of sleep, due to the bombardment that continued for some
time in the night. Whether any of the Germans were hit, I cannot say. But it
saddened me too, that I would not hold you in my arms this day. Your warm
embrace will always remain a constant in my mind, dear Laura. Sometimes
thinking just isn't enough.
Something then popped over the top of their parapet, over
the trees. One of them, dressed in a grey khaki trench coat, placing his hand
over one of the trees, and holding a small white handkerchief. I held my rifle
in place, keeping my fingers aloof from the trigger. 'English?' he cried out. I
did not speak at first, though he didn't seem much of a threat. 'English?' he
said again. I felt my chest tighten. It seemed silly to refuse to speak, after
what happened. I called back with a yes. 'We...wish to...truce...' His English
wasn't perfect, words slowly forming out like a child learning. There didn't
seem much reason to refuse a truce, unless 'Lollypop' intervened.
Jim and the others came out of their shelters, the morning
light blinding them somewhat. I explained what was going on, and 'Lollypop'
thought it reasonable, to our surprise. He did suggest that a few should go, in case it was a trick. 'We did
bombard them over again last night. They might show us how it's done'. I stared
at him. I understood what he meant, but it seemed unlikely that they would do
anything.
I did consider it, though I did bite the inside of my mouth.
If anything did happen, YOU are my reason. 'English? Are you there?' he called.
I called back to say we were, with a lump in my throat. 'No one will shoot....I
promise. Mein Kameraden ...we all...made that...decision'. I checked and he
repeated. I turned to look at the others. All of them stood to, frozen to the
ground. I looked down to my box, and shuddered. God knows I didn't want to, but
who would? Anything to break this spell. I said to 'Lollypop' that I would go,
rifle on my back, hands up. Jim said I would not be doing it alone, and offered
to go with me. 'Lollypop' agreed with a nod.
I placed my rifle forward on top of the parapet and pushed
myself onto the ground, grabbing the snow in my palms and crawled over the top.
Slowly I lifted myself up, and brushed the snow from my trench coat. I quickly
turned to Jim and helped him up, taking my rifle in the process, and turned
back to see the German man some distance away. I swallowed, threw my rifle over
my shoulder, and lifted my hands up slowly to either side of my head. I took
another deep breath, and my boots began to crunch deep into the snow.
With every step I took, I could almost see your face before
me, as my mouth opened slowly. Your
silky brushed brown hair soft to touch, wide childlike light brown eyes
I could look at for the rest of my life, and the thin lips that always elated us
to heaven and back. I could feel my chest almost sink inside. Every step seemed
agonising. But I would not turn back. To trust this man's word was heart-aching
in its own right, yet just for one day from the stench of death, meant we could
all enjoy respectful solitude.
As we came closer together, I could see his face more
clearly. His hair dirty blonde, untangled and curly, like it had been unwashed
for quite some time. His green eyes blinked almost constantly, made me curious
to wonder if he was afraid as me. It was
understandable, though one slight was growing noticeable: The land was silent.
Slowly, I lowered my hands down, the snow still breaking underneath my feet,
pushing ourselves a little more forward towards this man. A moment passed, and
we stood together face to face.
It was strange to be in the presence of this man, living only some yards away from us. I had
never met a live German properly until this day, standing exactly opposite him with Jim
standing by. I sighed a breath of relief from the silence, and extended my
right hand to him, trying to keep it steady. He looked at me for a moment,
gazing into my own eyes. I pushed my hand up a little further in an effort to
shake his fear. Slowly, very slowly, he took the handkerchief in his left hand,
and opened up his right. I moved my hand slightly towards his and he did the
same, both of us unnerved at the spectacle of no fired shots. Closer and
closer, and my chest immediately lightened as we gripped each other gently.
'Merry Christmas' I said with a smile. 'Frohe Weinachten' he
replied in a young voice, his own smile broadening over his face, 'Merry
Christmas...in your...English.' I bowed my head on understanding. As we parted
hands, he continued. 'Will you...agree to truce today?...' I said the men would
like that , and suggested we'll bury the dead laid over No Man's Land, to give
them their final rest. He immediately nodded, and promised that no shot would
be fired by his friends and men under his command, as agreed with other front
line officers with him. I respected his terms, as I hoped to assure the other
officers in climbing out of their trenches to meet them. I asked him his name.
'Kaleb' he said, 'Captain Kaleb Clauberg'. It was a vicious name for a soft
spoken man, rolling almost perfectly off the tongue.
After I had introduced myself, I turn to call the others to
join me, only to find they had already come out of the trenches, and walking
towards us more quickly than I did. I nodded to them, guessing their courage
had returned quickly, and rather conveniently. Nonetheless I smiled to them,
and the others immediately came up and
begged my forgiveness. I took them by the shoulders, and simply nodded my head.
There was no need to beg today, of all days. I patted them gently on the
shoulder, and told them I forgive them for their discretion.
As we all gathered together, we chatted cheerfully amongst
ourselves . Kaleb came from Munich, though he was more happy to be here than
there. At least there was some food he said, to which I could only grimace at.
He also had a sweetheart, called Beatrix, living in Rothenberg, and he would
immediately go there once he was on leave at New Year's. They had met while she
was in Munich for a holiday, and they kept in contact through long-distance
letters. He showed me her photograph that he had buried deep in his trench-coat,
and I remember her very long feature, with bright eyes that could always bring
a smile to faces. His incandescence of her felt like a reflection, and I told
him I hoped he would continue treasuring her. I would have shown a photograph
of you, but I know your confidence, and simply said I was lucky to have finally
found someone.
Soon as the sun began
to shine over us, lighting up the field, some of us soon started showing off
our gifts, even trading them with the Germans in gesture. Chocolate was passed
over for pork sausages, cigarettes for a pastry called 'Bethmannchen' I believe
it was called, wine bottles and candles, books and beers, tobacco for buttons, everything
seemed like a Saturday Market. It warmed
one's heart in the midst of it all. .
In terms of the gift boxes we received, some of the Germans had been given pipes
themselves. Unlike mine, they were long from tip to chamber, the latter
coloured white with an embossed image of the Crown Prince Little Willie, whom I
had vaguely recognised from PUNCH magazine's jokes. It was more impressive than
mine, but I could never have one around the house. The timing would be rather
unfortunate, and it would be a shame during this war. Besides, your father
would never let me come around again I imagine, despite I think impressed by
the design too.
We soon came to the business of finding the bodies, brushing
away the white lumps that covered them so neatly, and bringing our men along those we had killed in kind. The warmth had
faded back to coldness in my chest as I looked on them, quiet and still, their
stench very much overwhelming, my hand
was on my scarf in a flash to cover my mouth. We decided to bury them
separately, helping each other carry the men back over their respective lines.
Me, John, Kaleb, and to our surprise again 'Lollypop', helped the Germans,
while Jim, Dennis and Henry stayed on our side.
It was quite a trek to pass over their lines to the very
back, further than we've ever succeeded in war. We came to an open space some
distance away from the front, where neatly squared holes had been forcefully
opened up in the snow, and dug through with huge mounds next to them. At the
top of the holes were grey metal crosses, perfectly crafted, with small wreaths
hung around the top. I don't think we could even be as well prepared as the
Germans in any respect.
Before we laid them to their rest, 'Lollypop' had noticed an
inscription on each of the crosses, reading 'Fur Vaterland und Freiheit'. 'For
Fatherland and Freedom'. He caused good fuss over this, asking politely how
they could fight for freedom, since they had started the war in the first place.
One German Officer, Markus Ziegler, said they were fighting for freedom, to protect
their country's interest. 'Lollypop' pushed further pointing out another
inscription, despite my pleas, that said 'Hier ruht in Gott, an unbekannter
Held'. 'Here lies in God, an unknown Hero'. Ziegler said that God was on their
side, which 'Lollypop' tried to rebuke by saying he's on ours. It was that
point which made me say to remind them all, that it was Christmas Day. Quarrels
were not needed. 'Lollypop' looked at me straight on, and silently nodded. I
blinked in surprise of me actually telling him off, but quickly turned my
attention back to the soldiers. Kaleb nodded in silence to me too. Soon all the
dead were buried, with the 23rd psalm used for each man lost to the
world. I even said the words myself, more for convenience than truth.
When we returned back to the front, we arranged a chorus to
sing in No Man's Land after breakfast,
and made our way back to our respective trenches. John cooked the sausages he
had traded for his bar of chocolate, making a change than the bully beef we had
a constant flow of, and everyone lined up for a taste. They were absolutely
delicious as I choked it down myself. A shame you won't be able to taste them
until this war is over. To fill myself up more, I took my own bar of chocolate
and broke three lines off. It was strange to have after the sausage. The sweet
taste became somewhat sweeter. Not that it bothered me, it had been a long
morning.
We came back together around midday, and started the chorus
with one song at a time. The Germans, as usual, sounded perfect as they sang
deeply, yet softly too. Jim again tried to match their tempo, but he was never
one for a low tune. We applauded each other in salutation, never thinking that
they were our enemies still, nor vice versa so I thought. We continued to sing
for over two hours, as each man or couple took turns in singing themselves,
like we used to down at The Crown. I took a turn myself, singing 'Rufford Park
Poachers' to almost thunderous applause. All I could do in reply was beam.
After two, John suggested we all play a football match, and
happily one of the Germans, Benny Weber, had brought up a ball from his line earlier.
He had said earlier in the day, that he had been part of a team called 'FC
Bayern Munich' before the war started. Unfortunately the team had not won any
honours yet, but they were still hopeful for something. We managed to clear
away a good chunk of the snow, and placed scarves and spare coats down for goal
lines.
It was a riveting experience. The man proved his worth a
hundred times over, keeping the ball and dribbling all around us, forcing us to
land dangerous tackles and brushing our clothes in the snow. Jim and Dennis had
kept quiet during his little speech, only to tackle him at nearly every
opportunity they could get, sliding the ball away to our side almost every
time. I stayed around in the middle to push up to Dennis so he could take his
opportunity to score down into the German trenches. Our skills had finally come into use, but we lucked out. Weber put the ball down our
trench many times, though we refused playfully to keep score, and joked how if
we hadn't buried our men, they would have made fine goalkeepers.
With the sun glowing an orange hue behind our lines, we all
stood and chatted one more time. Kaleb
gave me his scribbled address on a piece of paper, eyes flittering that we
would write to each other after the war. How could I resist? I had enjoyed his
company much in the day, and tried to find a small bit of paper myself from my coat,
immediately finding the wrapper from the chocolate. I scribbled slowly and
clearly so he could read it, and handed it over into his own gloved hand. He
thanked me with a nod, and said that his line would not attack us tomorrow
without warning, but the day after that? He wasn't sure. I nodded, mouth
tightly shut. This truce wouldn't have lasted forever, and we would have to
fight each other again. It hurt my chest too. The men we had made new
friendships with will be dead sooner or later. Whether it was better for former
or latter...I don't want to answer that. Soon, after our watches had struck at
Four-Thirty, we gripped each other's hands gently, with faces forlorn, wishing
each other one last Merry Christmas, before slowly turning our backs on them
and made a slow long walk back to our trench.
Not even our Christmas dinner could sate our distaste. The chicken was
roasted sweetly as we swallowed it anxiously, for we hadn't had their likes for
a while. But after a joyful day with our enemy, we couldn't speak at all. Only
Jim tried to bring our spirits up with talk of his Gemma, and what he would do
when on leave back to York after New Year's. It was a good distraction, and
made for good spirits that we will return home soon, along with writing letters
back to Blighty. I'm sorry I couldn't get leave at the same time darling . First come, first served. Two weeks
in February was the closest I could get, so you will be seeing me again very soon.
It has been a strange few days. You'd have never thought we
would see these Germans as any more than brutal animals. Yet throughout,
Christmas has come first, and thus shown that at the most important time for
family and friends, we have become human again. At least for this time. I don't
think HQ would take kindly to our blatant fraternisation, and I don't blame
them. This is war of course. But for one day, just one day, we were allowed to
talk with the enemy, laugh with the enemy, play with the enemy. We were human.
I am certain that everything will be over in the next few days, and we will go
back to seeing them as 'The Hun'. It bothers me that we may never see each
other again, not just in death, but in life. I don't dare keep my hopes up that
we will. But it was a good day nonetheless. One that I will not forget anytime
soon, dare I say will the world when they find out eventually.
See you in February my darling,
Love, Hoppy
---------------------------------------------
They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them
Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year to you all
For the last time this year, Randomizer out.
