With the holidays upon us, it’s fitting that we take the time to try and find some “reason for the season” in our lives. Something other than that perfect Christmas present or the outright naked greed of Black Friday (the one day of the season I refuse to shop). For me, I found it in my niece this year. Last year, I put on a Santa suit and played Santa for her. Much to my dismay, this very bright child recognized me through the wild flowing beard, white hair and two pillows under my Santa suit. This sent the child into a tailspin of Christmas confusion, as in, “Does Santa exist?”; “Why is Bubba (her nickname for me) dressed as Santa?”; and, “Why is he trying to fool me with it?” But, my younger sister is quick witted and, without missing a step, explained to her that I was in fact one of Santa’s elves and was filling in for the very busy Saint Nick. This explanation she was happy with, but it gave rise to many more questions. Since then, she has bombarded me with tons of questions about what it means to be, and how can she become, an elf? I explained that being an elf means giving more than it does receiving, that Christmas meant a lot more than just presents and that being an elf was a year-round job that required dedicating yourself to be a good girl. So, she has enthusiastically embraced the spirit of elf-hood and pledged to help others and try to be good all year round. We’ll see how well that goes when she does not get to go swimming as much as she wants this summer.
This foray into all things elf-like has extended to include my girlfriend, Shannon, who has been dubbed an elf also. So we’ve had to corroborate our stories and describe to her just how we earned our elf shoes. We did so by regaling her with tales of Christmas niceties with which Shannon and I had both been involved over the years. It is my belief that the Christmas spirit should stay intact for all of us as long as it possibly can, and childhood is when the magic is strongest. Someday soon, my very bright niece will stop believing in Santa, but for now, the magic remains.
It is with the adult version of the Christmas spirit that I submit the following true story to you. During the Christmas season of 1914, most of Europe was at war. At this point, America was not totally involved in the conflict, so the following story is not widely known to most Americans. The British, French and their allies launched attack after attack but could not break through the German lines, nor could they outflank them. The Germans had similar results with their attacks, so the war settled into a stalemate and the iconic trenches we associate with WWI were dug. For months, the war drug on, men butchering men over “No Man’s Land” in between the trenches. Unimaginable suffering and sickness decimated both sides. No hope or human spirit could be found in such a place . . . or could it?
In the weeks leading up to Christmas of 1914, unofficial ceasefires took place all along the Western Front. This was done to collect the dead and wounded or for the mercy of allowing both sides to briefly leave the muddy trenches that had become their living coffins. On Christmas Eve, parties of German and British soldiers began to exchange seasonal greetings and songs between their trenches; on occasion, the tension was reduced to the point that individuals would walk across and talk to their opposite numbers, sometimes bearing gifts. On Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, many soldiers from both sides—as well as, to a lesser degree, from French units—independently ventured into No Man’s Land, where they mingled, exchanging food and souvenirs. As well as conducting joint burial ceremonies, several meetings ended in carol singing. Troops from both sides were also friendly enough to play games of football (soccer to us Americans) with one another. Though there was no official truce, roughly 100,000 British and German troops were involved in unofficial cessations of fighting along the length of the Western Front. The truce started on Christmas Eve, Dec. 24, 1914, when German troops began decorating the area around their trenches in the region of Ypres, Belgium and particularly in Saint-Yves. A British captain, Bruce Bairnsfather, described the truce.
“The Germans began by placing candles on their trenches and on Christmas trees, then continued the celebration by singing Christmas carols. The British responded by singing carols of their own. The two sides continued by shouting Christmas greetings to each other. Soon thereafter, there were excursions across No Man’s Land, where small gifts were exchanged, such as food, tobacco and alcohol, and souvenirs such as buttons and hats. The artillery in the region fell silent. The truce also allowed a breathing spell where recently killed soldiers could be brought back behind their lines by burial parties. Joint services were held. The fraternization carried risks; some soldiers were shot by opposing forces. In many sectors, the truce lasted through Christmas night, but it continued until New Year’s Day in others.” (From wikipedia.org)
A cross, left in Saint-Yves in Belgium in 1999, to commemorate the site of the Christmas Truce. The text reads “1914 – The Khaki Chum’s Christmas Truce – 1999 – 85 Years – Lest We Forget”
Captain Bairnsfather, who served throughout the war, later wrote: “I wouldn’t have missed that unique and weird Christmas Day for anything . . . I spotted a German officer, some sort of lieutenant I should think, and being a bit of a collector, I intimated to him that I had taken a fancy to some of his buttons . . . I brought out my wire clippers and, with a few deft snips, removed a couple of his buttons and put them in my pocket. I then gave him two of mine in exchange . . . The last I saw was one of my machine gunners, who was a bit of an amateur hairdresser in civil life, cutting the unnaturally long hair of a docile German, who was patiently kneeling on the ground whilst the automatic clippers crept up the back of his neck.”
Can you imagine that? In the midst of war, sworn enemies that had spent the last year trying to kill each other and would soon be trying to kill each other again, were exchanging gifts and playing games. You could make the argument, and I would partially agree, that it is a good description of the insanity of war, more than a testament to the human spirit. But what if someday the entire human race just said no to killing each other? No more trenches, no more killing in the name of a god or just murder in general. I think if that happened, it would begin in a foxhole or a trench. If 100,000 can do it in the middle of a world war, then there is hope that someday the entire human race can find a way to live in peace. That’s a future I’d like to see for my elf niece.
