Quote:
The truce began on Christmas Eve, December 24, 1914, when German troops began decorating the area around their trenches in the region of Ypres, Belgium, for Christmas. They began by placing candles on trees, then continued the celebration by singing Christmas carols, most notably Stille Nacht (Silent Night). The Scottish troops in the trenches across from them responded by singing English carols.
The two sides continued by shouting Christmas greetings to each other. Soon thereafter, there were calls for visits across the "No Man's Land" where small gifts were exchanged — whisky, jam, cigars, chocolate, and the like. The soldiers exchanged gifts, sometimes addresses, and drank together. The artillery in the region fell silent that night. The truce also allowed a breathing spell where recently-fallen soldiers could be brought back behind their lines by burial parties. Proper burials took place as soldiers from both sides mourned the dead together and paid their respects. At one funeral in No Man's Land, soldiers from both sides gathered and read a passage from the 23rd Psalm:
The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me in the path of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.
The two sides continued by shouting Christmas greetings to each other. Soon thereafter, there were calls for visits across the "No Man's Land" where small gifts were exchanged — whisky, jam, cigars, chocolate, and the like. The soldiers exchanged gifts, sometimes addresses, and drank together. The artillery in the region fell silent that night. The truce also allowed a breathing spell where recently-fallen soldiers could be brought back behind their lines by burial parties. Proper burials took place as soldiers from both sides mourned the dead together and paid their respects. At one funeral in No Man's Land, soldiers from both sides gathered and read a passage from the 23rd Psalm:
The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul. He leadeth me in the path of righteousness for his name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.
Ninety Four years ago today, there was a quiet and peace on the western front. And every year, I hold my own personal remembrance.
Quote:
'Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
in a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney with presents to give,
and to see just who in this little house lived.
As I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No Stockings by mantle, just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.
With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
A sobering thought came through my mind.
For this house was different, it was dark and dreary,
The home of a soldier, I could now see clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder,
Not how I picture a United States Soldier.
Was this the hero of whom I'd just read?
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?
I realized the families that I saw this night,
owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.
Soon round the world, the children would play,
and grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wondering how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to one knee and started to cry.
The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,
"Santa don't cry, for this life is my choice".
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more,
My life is my God, my country, my corps."
The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still,
as we both shivered from the cold night's chill.
I didn't want to leave, on that cold, dark night,
this guardian of honor, so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure,
whispered, "Carry on Santa...., It's Christmas Day...., All is secure.
One look at my watch, and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend.... and to all a Good Night.
in a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone.
I had come down the chimney with presents to give,
and to see just who in this little house lived.
As I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
No tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No Stockings by mantle, just boots filled with sand,
On the wall hung pictures of far distant lands.
With medals and badges, awards of all kinds,
A sobering thought came through my mind.
For this house was different, it was dark and dreary,
The home of a soldier, I could now see clearly.
The soldier lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in this one bedroom home.
The face was so gentle, the room in such disorder,
Not how I picture a United States Soldier.
Was this the hero of whom I'd just read?
Curled up on a poncho, the floor for a bed?
I realized the families that I saw this night,
owed their lives to these soldiers who were willing to fight.
Soon round the world, the children would play,
and grownups would celebrate a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom each month of the year,
because of the soldiers, like the one lying here.
I couldn't help wondering how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas Eve in a land far from home.
The very thought brought a tear to my eye,
I dropped to one knee and started to cry.
The soldier awakened and I heard a rough voice,
"Santa don't cry, for this life is my choice".
I fight for freedom, I don't ask for more,
My life is my God, my country, my corps."
The soldier rolled over and drifted to sleep,
I couldn't control it, I continued to weep.
I kept watch for hours, so silent and still,
as we both shivered from the cold night's chill.
I didn't want to leave, on that cold, dark night,
this guardian of honor, so willing to fight.
Then the soldier rolled over, with a voice soft and pure,
whispered, "Carry on Santa...., It's Christmas Day...., All is secure.
One look at my watch, and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend.... and to all a Good Night.
