Transcript

1.9.26 · History Hour

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Speaker 1: This is half hour history and I'm your host, Joseph
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Bolt here at RADIOI. We want this show to be
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listener driven, so if you have any comments or suggestions,
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please give our studios a call at eight five nine
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four to two six three nine zero. Let us know
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what you think. Today, we're going to start the show
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with excerpts from the following The Week dot Com from
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an article entitled The Christmas Truce of World War One
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as told by the Soldiers who were There, written by
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the Week's staff, December twenty nineteen. And NPR dot org
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A Century Ago when the Guns fell Silent on Christmas
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heard on Morning Edition with Ari Shapiro in December two
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thousand and four fourteen. And Medium dot com The Fascinating
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Story of the the World War One Christmas Truth written
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by Sal Writes December of twenty twenty, The chaplain Kit
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dot com Silent Night, The Story of the Christmas Truce
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of twenty fourteen by Nina Bajikl in December of twenty fourteen,
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and finally the Worldwar dot org Trench Warfare no author
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or date given. It was a beautiful moonlit night, frost
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on the ground, white almost everywhere, and about seven or
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eight in the evening, there was a lot of commotion
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in the German trenches and there were these lights, I
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don't know what they were, and then they sang silent
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Night Stealer Knock. I shall never forget it. It was
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one of the highighlights of my life. I thought, what
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a beautiful tune. Private Albert Morinn of the Second Queen's Regiment.
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First the Germans would sing one of their carols, and
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then we would sing one of ours. Then we started
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up Oh Come all you faithful, and the Germans immediately
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joined in singing, and I thought, well, this is a
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most extraordinary thing. Two nations both singing the same carol
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in the middle of the war. Rifleman Graham Williams of
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the fifth London Rifle Brigade a famous saying is war
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is never good and peace is never bad. Living in
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a world of differing backgrounds and opinions and systems, conflict
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is likely to arise a mong young people. War creates
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havoc and leaves many in despair. The Great War, commonly
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known as World War One, began twenty eight July nineteen fourteen.
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In such testing times, we all need a glimmer of light.
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On the night before Christmas nineteen fourteen, when in the trenches,
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Captain Arthur O'Sullivan of the British Army's Royal Irish Rifles
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was stationed in the Rue Dui, France, he heard a
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German accent float across the air. The voice said, do
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not shoot after twelve o'clock, and we will not do
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so either. Then if you English come out and talk
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to us, we won't fire. Let us have peace, even
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if just for a night. One Irish rifleman ventured out
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of his trench to test the invitation. After arriving back
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safely with the German cigar as a gift, others made
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their way onto the still battlefield. No man's land, an
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ancient term, was a nightmarish wasteland between the enemy lines,
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littered with tree stumps and snarls of barbed wire created
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by the constant bombardment of modern artillery. Sometimes no man's
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land spanned just one hundred feet wide, with enemy troops
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that were so close they could hear each other and
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even smell their cooking. That evening, no man's land gradually
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filled with soldiers meeting each other halfway, and so began
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the unofficial Truce of nineteen fourteen and the glimmer of
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light that turned the first Christess of the war and
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to a momentary peace. In the weeks leading up to Christmas,
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life was miserable on the front line, says historian Alan
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Wakefield of the Imperial War Museum. The weather was wet
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and frigid. The trenches were basically large ditches, collapsing and
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filling with water. Artillery and machine guns forced the armies
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to dig trenches to protect themselves, although soldiers could easily
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become trapped or killed because of direct hits from artillery.
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Fire fighting in these areas would grind to a stalemate.
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Inside a trench, all that's visible is just a few
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feet on either side, ending at the trench walls front
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and back, and then a patch of leaden sky visible above.
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Trenches in World War One were constructed with sand banks,
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wooden planks, woven sticks, tangled barbed wire, or even just
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stinking mud. The trench systems on the Western Front of
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World War One were roughly four hundred and seventy five
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miles long, stretching from the English Channel to the Swiss Alps,
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though not in a continuous line. Despite the use of
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wooden plank, duckboards, and sandbags to keep out the water.
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Soldiers on the front lines lived mired in mud. The
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mud in Belgium buried in consistency from water to the
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thickness of dough ready for the oven. The constant damp
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often led to a condition known as trench foot, which,
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if left untreated, would require amputation to stave off severe
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infection or even death. Trenches became trash dump, filling with
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broken ammunition boxes, empty cartridges, torn uniforms, scattered helmets, soil bandages,
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shrap and bone fragments. Trenches were also places of despair,
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becoming long graves when they collapse from the weight of
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the war. So they do small scale truces where they
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actually get out of their trenches and do repair work
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on the trenches in sight of each other, says Wakefield,
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who wrote a book called Christmas in the Trenches. Nobody
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is firing at each other because they are both just
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trying to make life a little more bearable. This is
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the first chance you are really getting to see the enemy,
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because normally in trench war you are under the ground.
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In a letter home, a British soldier named Ernest Morley
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writes that his men decided to give the Germans a
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gift on Christmas Eve, two songs, then five rounds of
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a rapid gunfire. They started with the carol while shepherds watched.
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We finished that and paused pairing to give them the
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second item on the program, rights Morley. We heard answering
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strains arising from their lines. Then they started shouting across
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to us. Therefore we stopped any hostile operations and commenced
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to shout back. One of them shouted a Merry Christmas, English,
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We are not shooting tonight. Germans lit lanterns and put
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them above the trenches riflemen. Morley writes that the British
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tried to outdo them. Opposite me, they had one lantern
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and nine candles in a row, and we had all
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the candles and lights we could muster stuck up on
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our bayonets. The sun rises on Christmas Day and all
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is calm, and the morning came and we didn't shoot,
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and they didn't shoot. So then we began to pop
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our heads up and over the side and jump down
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quickly in case they shot. But they didn't shoot. And
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then we saw a German standing up waving his arms
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and we didn't shoot, and so it just gradually grew.
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Marmaduke Walkington of the London Regiment I shouted to our
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enemies that we didn't wish to shoot, and that we
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make a Christmas truce. I said I would come from
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my side and we could speak to each other. First
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there was silence, and then I shouted once more and
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I invited them, and then the British shouted no shooting.
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Then a man came out of the trenches, and I
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on my side did the same, and so we came
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together and we shook hands a bit cautiously. Captain Joseph
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Sewald of Germany's seventeenth Bavarian Regiment, I don't know if
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we had breakfast that morning. I suppose we did. We
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had a drink. Everything was peaceful, and eventually one of
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the Germans held up a card with Merry Christmas written
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on it and come on over the top. Everybody was
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dubious in our trench, saying should we or shouldn't we?
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And then one or two Germans came up, and eventually
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we decided, well, they haven't got any rifles on them,
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and so we went over. Private Stan Brown of the
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first Regiment. British Lieutenant M. S. Richardson writes a letter
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to his family where he describes German soldiers cautiously emerging
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from the trenches. He says the situation was so absurd
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that another officer of ours and myself went out and
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met seven of their officers. They exchanged gifts in the
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area of the trenches called no man's land. One of
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them presented me with a pack of cigarettes, and we
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gave them a plum pudding, and then we shook hands
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with them and saluted each other. Writes Richardson, what a
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sight little groups of Germans and British extending almost the
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length of our front. Out of the darkness. We could
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hear laughter and see lighted matches, and a German lighting
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a Scotchman's cigarette, and vice versa, Captain John Ferguson of
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the second Seaforth Highlanders. What I had still believed to
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be madness several hours ago, I can now see with
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my own eyes Bavarians and English until then the greatest
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of enemies, now talking and exchanging items. A single star
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stood still in the sky directly above them, and was
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interpreted as a special sign. More and more joined in
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the entire line greeted each other. Joseph Winsel, German soldier.
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Some of the soldiers used the day of peace to
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bury the dead. This gesture meant a lot in terms
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of respect for the dead. On both sides, joint burials
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were conducted. It was an extraordinary and most wonderful sight.
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The Germans formed up on one side, in the English
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on the other, the officers standing in front every head
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beard Second Lieutenant Arthur Pelham Byrne of the six Gordon Highlanders.
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Second Lieutenant Wilbert Spencer watched many of his men fall
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a week earlier, on Christmas Day. He had the strange
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sensation of shaking hands with some of the German soldiers
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who had killed many of his friends. They carried over
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our dead, he writes in a letter to home. I
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won't describe the sites I saw and which I will
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never forget. We buried the dead as they were. Spencer
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took a photograph that day at the Imperial War Museum.
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Historian Wakefield describes the black and white image. The photograph
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here shows four British soldiers in the foreground beside a
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recent Doug grave and a mixed group of Germans and
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British in the background, actually digging fresh grapes for other casualties.
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The earth is flat and bare, with a huge blank sky.
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A small white cross sticks out of the ground. Whenever
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the truce is portrayed in songs and plays, there's always
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a soccer match between the Germans and British. So I
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asked the historians to show me accounts of the game. Well,
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we don't really have any evidence of that, said William
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Spencer from the National Archives. There's nothing recorded in the
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unit war diaries to say a soccer match took place.
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I asked Wakefield of the Imperial War Museum for evidence
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of the match. It's contentious, he said, but ultimately the
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idea of any organized football or soccer game just doesn't
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stand up in the documentation. Some estimates are that about
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thirty thousand British soldiers in between all armies, maybe up
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to one hundred thousand soldiers were involved in the truce,
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and Wakefield says maybe maybe a hundred may have played
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soccer games against the Germans that day. In other words,
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it was hardly central to the story of the truce.
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A truce was widespread, but not universal. It's unclear how
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extensive it was, and while some evidence indicates that it
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that it extended over more most of the British held
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front line that stretch across Belgium, there are other accounts
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that say the truce took place only in certain segments
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and portions of the land. Evidence suggests that in many
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places the firing continued. In at least two places, a
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truce was attempted, but soldiers fraternizing were shot by the
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opposing forces. The phenomenon took several forms across the Western Front.
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One account mentions a British soldier having his hair cut
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by as pre you wore German barber. Another account talks
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of a pig roast. In some places, the two sides
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held prayer services together. They exchanged mementos like small brass
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buttons from their uniforms. A button was given to nineteen
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year old corporal Eric Rowden, who wrote in his daily
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that day I went out and found a German who
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spoke English a little, and we exchanged buttons and cigarettes,
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and I had two or three cigars given to me,
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and we laughed and joked together, having forgotten the war altogether.
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Not everyone was in favor. Such things should not happen
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in wartime? Have you Germans no sense of honor left
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at all? A quote from Corporal Adolf Hitler of the
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sixteenth Bavarian When commanders learned about this truce, they were furious.
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Various orders were sent down straight after Christmas in nineteen
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fourteen and were heavily reinforced in nineteen fifteen for this
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particular occurrence not to happen again. Germans were warned that
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if they staged another truce, they would be shot, and
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British soldiers were threatened with court martial. Pope Benedict the
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fifteenth called for a temporary holiday truce on that Christmas
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of nineteen fourteen, but no formal resolution was settled by
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inn of the countries involved. It was then that British, Belgium, French,
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Irish and German soldiers, exhausted from the endless fighting, decided
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to act on their own will, put down their rifles,
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step out of their trenches and bring about an unauthorized
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cease fire. Over the years, the event has been seen
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as a kind of miracle, a rare moment of peace
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just a few months into a war that would eventually
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claim over fifteen million lives. Many of the men who
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took part in the Christmas Truce of nineteen fourteen refused
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to fire on their opponents again until the day they
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were rotated out and other soldiers came to take their place.
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Even though the events of that night in nineteen fourteen
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did not bring about any form of resolution to the war,
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it did give the soldiers on the battle field a
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glimmer of light in the darkness. This glimmer of light
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and the Christmas gift they very much needed, was hope.
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The truce has been remembered as a testament to the
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power of hope and humanity in a truly dark hour
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of history. And although the Christmas Truth may have been
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for just one night in the conflict, the fact that
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it remains so widely commemorated speaks to the idea that
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at its heart it symbolizes a very human desire for peace,
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no matter half leading. I would like to close with
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excerpts from the poem a Christmas Truce, written by United
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Kingdom poet Laureate Carol Ann Duffy. Christmas Eve, in the
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trenches of France, the guns were quiet, the dead lay
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still in no man's land. Freddy France, Friedrich frank. The
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moon like a metal hung in the clear, cold sky.
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In the trees behind the lines, A lone bird sang,
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A soldier poet noted it down a robin holding its
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winter ground. Then silence spread and touched each man like
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a hand. But it was Christmas Eve, belief filled the night.
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Are on watch. A rifleman scoured the terrain. No sign
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of life, no shadows or shots from snipers, nothing to
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note or report. The frozen foreign fields were acres of pain.
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Then flickering flames from the other side danced in his
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eyes as Christmas trees and their dozens shone. Candle lit
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on the parapets, and they started to sing. All down
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the German lines. Men who would drown in mud, be
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gassed or shot, or vaporized by falling shells, or lived
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to tell, heard for the first time. Then silent night,
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and when it was done, the British soldiers cheered. A
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Scotsman started to bawl the first noel, and all joined
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in till the Germans stood, seeing across the divide, the
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sprawled mute shapes of those who had died. All night
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along the Western front, they sang the enemies carols hymns,
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folk songs, anthems in German, English, French. Each battalion choired
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in its grim trench. So Christmas dawned, wrapped in mist,
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to open itself and offer the day like a gift
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for Harry Hugo Hermann hints with whistles, waves, cheers and laughs.
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Then it was up and over every man to shake
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the hand of a foe as a friend, or slap
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his back like a brother would, exchanging gifts of biscuits, tea,
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and stew I showed him a picture of my wife.
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She thought her beautiful. They buried the dead, then hacked
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spades into hard earth again and again, till a score
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of men were at rest, identified and blessed my shepherd.
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I shall not want. And all that marvelous festive day
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and night they came and went, the officers and file,
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their fallen comrades, side by side, beneath the makeshift crosses
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of midwinter graves, beneath the shivering, shy stars and the
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pinned moon, and the yawn of history, the high bright
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bullets which each man later only aimed at the sky.
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That concludes the show for the week. I'm your host,
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Joseph Bolt and this has been Radio Eyes half hour history.
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Thank you for listening this Christmas season and always. I
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wish you peace and good will for you all.