The American Storyteller
The war had started several years before the American entrance, 1914 to be exact. And at the onset, both sides confidently predicted, even promised, there victorious soldiers would be home with their families by Christmas. Before this four year bloodbath would end, nine million men would die.
Soldiers on both sides must have been lamenting that broken promise as the held their positions in the muddy trenches that had frozen solid there on Christmas Eve 1914. British soldiers could hear it coming from the German lines. They didn't recognize the words "Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht" but the melody was recognizable.
The Brits looked through their field glasses and could see the enemy soldiers holding up pine trees illuminated with lanterns, dancing out in the open where they could easily be shot. The British soldiers could hardly believe what they were seeing and hearing. They put down their weapons. Slowly and cautiously, only and a few at first, crawled out of their British trenches. Then more and more would put down their weapons. Both sides were now walking for the middle ground with the British soldiers joining the song in English, "Silent night, Holy night."
With some immediate trepidation, the enemy lines moved closer and closer. They reached out their hands, wide eyed and curious, greeting one another with Christmas cheer. Soon both sides worked to find whatever they could, erecting a bon fire. Men sat around it exchanging gifts: candy bars, rations, buttons, badges, whatever they could find in their meager belongings - men, who only an hour earlier, were trying to kill one another.
Many of the Germans spoke perfect English. Most of the conversations were about how everyone just wished this war could end and all could go home to their wives and children, back to those simple days filled with hopes and dreams. Their once boring, mundane lives now seemed like a utopian fantasy.
Finally, after a few hours of camaraderie and laughter and good fun, the unofficial truce would end. The commanding officers from both sides stood respectfully and saluted one another. The soldiers returned to their trenches, and the bloody business of killing one another would begin again.
1914 wasn't that long ago. Merry Christmas Bf2s.
I stood in line for four hours. They better give me a Wal-Mart gift card, or something. - Rodney Booker, Job Fair attendee.
