What’s more, their first trench was only 50 yards from ours. After all, they faced the same dangers we did, and slogged about in the same muck. Through all this, we couldn’t help feeling curious about the German soldiers across the way. One new recruit got his feet stuck in it, and then his hands too when he tried to get out-just like in that American story of the tar baby! It splatters and cakes everything, and constantly sucks at our boots. And with the rain has come mud-a good foot or more deep. Of course, it collects right in our trenches, where we must bail it out with pots and pans. And in daylight not daring to lift our heads above ground, for fear of a sniper’s bullet.Īnd the rain-it has fallen almost daily. So we have mostly stayed in our trenches and waited.īut what a terrible waiting it has been! Knowing that any moment an artillery shell might land and explode beside us in the trench, killing or maiming several men. The first battles of the war left so many dead that both sides have held back until replacements could come from home. Just imagine: While you and the family sang carols before the fire there in London, I did the same with enemy soldiers here on the battlefields of France!Īs I wrote before, there has been little serious fighting of late. In truth, what happened seems almost like a fairy tale, and if I hadn’t been through it myself, I would scarce believe it. It is 2:00 in the morning and most of our men are asleep in their dugouts-yet I could not sleep myself before writing to you of the wonderful events of Christmas Eve.
Arthur Conan Doyle called it “one human episode amid all the atrocities.” If Christmas means anything, it surely means this: During the miserable trench warfare of WWI, a night of humanity offered some hope of peace.
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