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“Cheer up chap!” booms the Corporal, shoving a flask into his hands. “It’s Christmas Eve! And you know what that means.”
James raises an eyebrow in response, his finger trailing around the lip of the flask. The grey sky momentarily lights up to a rusty orange as the ground beneath them trembles slightly. This fact barely registers in the mind of the two conversing men, it’s a regular occurrence to them. As normal as breathing.
“The war will be over soon.“ continues the Corporal. “Be over by Christmas they said, and guess what. It’s bloody Christmas! We’ll be home in our beds soon chap. That’s a promise.”
He flashes the young private a smile in an attempt to console him but the comfort of his smile fails to obscure the truth hidden within his eyes. The Corporal, the man constantly fighting two battles, one being the hell the Axis forces reign upon them, the other being a private battle of keeping morale up among his section. Realising that the Private isn’t going to have a drink, he retrieves the flask and quickly drains the last drops before trudging along the trench, stumbling slightly. James eyes follow the man for a while until they land on a fruitless attempt of a Christmas tree. A handful of soldiers constructed the tree a few hours earlier, under the orders of the Corporal of course, but because of the mixture of numb hands, little items of decoration and the constant tremors from falling mortars, the tree was more closely resembling a dead stick in the ground with a red scarf around it. Despite the depressing state of the tree, it caused James to smile slightly. Not much, just a mere twitch of the corner of his lips but it was enough.
Strangely enough, it reminds him of home. Sitting by the fire with his family and his friend Tobias and his family too, discussing the most tedious of things, yet he would give anything to have it back that way again. Now Tobias sits behind enemy lines and James wonders if he’s remembering last Christmas and the Christmas before that and the other eighteen Christmases before that.
Finally breaking his gaze from the tree, he notices that night has fallen and is enveloping him in darkness. James could hear a hum in the distance, assuming it’s the Corporal to relieve him for the night, he gathers him items and waits patiently against the wall of earth. The noise grows louder and louder, picking up more voices over time. James releases a dry chuckle, believing that the Corporal finally managed to get the men to sing. The voices are still growing, until a fellow Private calls out.
“James, is that you singing?”
“No, I assumed it was you lot.” replies James, slightly confused.
“Nah mate, you’re the only one here to speaks German.”
“German?” James mumbles quietly to himself. Pushing himself off the wall, he lumbers down towards his platoon, feeling slightly intoxicated with tiredness.
“German?” he repeats louder as he reaches the group of weary men.
“Yeah, hush up an’ listen.”
The voices are flowing in from the fields across from them.
Holder Knab' im lockigen Haar, Schlafe in himmlischer Ruh. Schlafe in himmlischer Ruh!
“It’s Silent Night.” exclaims James, causing the rest of the men to stare at him.
“Listen closely, it’s the same tune, same words, different language.”
The men, sitting back, start to listen to the next verse rolling over the distance towards them. At the opening of the next version two of the men begin to join in, intertwining the English and German versions. By the end of the second line the entire platoon are singing and their voices began to spread among the front line, causing more and more men to join in. As the song nears it’s end, both sides of the battlefield are belting their voices out, until the final words are sung and they are once again engulfed in silence.
A few of the men are returning to their old positions, but not all men. Some daring men, poke their heads above the soil and others bravely clamber out and begin to wander across the fields. James, seeing these men leave their posts begins to do the exact same. Soon his entire platoon follow him, their feet crunching under the frosted grass as they made their way past barbed wire into no-mans-land. Leaving behind the horrors of the battle for one night, they greet the enemy soldiers with shaking hands and warm hugs. Some men restarting singing, while others begin to trade gifts and tokens. James wanders a bit further across the field until he hears a voice that he recognised only too well calling out to him.
“Tobias!” yells James, sprinting across the field towards the waving figure, also running.
The pair collide and quickly wrap their arms around one another, laughing as they stood there.
“James, mein freund! How are you?” rejoices Tobias, releasing his friend.
“How do you think I’ve been, in this bloody war!” replies James laughing.
“Hungry!” remarks Tobias retrieving a brown bag from his pocket. “Bonbon?”
“If you insist!” says James popping a sweet into his mouth.
The pair make their way towards a group of men sitting on the grass, playing cards and exchanging jokes. James sits there, smoking German tobacco while Tobias sipped on British whiskey, both laughing at two soldiers mocking the war and doing terrible reenactments of famous plays.
Dawn was only too quickly begin to peek it’s head out of the horizon, calling the truce to an end. The soldiers shake hands and part ways.
Tobias extends his arm to which James immediately grasps it.
“Auf wiedersehen, mein freund.” says Tobias sadly.
“See you later, my friend.” James repeats and releases his hand, before turning around and marching back to hell. A few hours later, James, after finding Tobias’ sweets in his pocket, sit with his fellow soldiers sharing them, making sure to save a few for the Corporal when he arrives. The sound of a shell plummeting from the sky signals the end of the truce and all the men return to their positions, ready for another day of tireless fighting. Still James smiles as the words from his wise old friend played throughout his mind.
“It’s Christmas, mein freund. Do you know what that means? We’re half way out of the dark!”