The Miracle of Understanding

The Christmas Truce during WWI was a miracle for the heartbroken. Read several letters of a defeated boy to his younger brother back home, and discover his insight on this true marvel in history.

December 23, 1914; The Western Front, France

 

Dear Jimmy,

Today, I think my heart is heavier than it has ever been. The weather is simply unbearable. Snow falls in heavy drifts, and the trenches are filled with disease and the dying. I hate trench warfare; maybe just war in general. I hate being here, Jimmy, and my pain is so great that I feel it must be written somewhere. The letters I write are likely to never reach you, but I like to think that someday they might. Because as I sit here in the freezing weather, and fight in a bloody war, I cannot help but think of how much I love you. Perhaps being in life threatening situations tends to fill one with extra sentiment, but I mean it. I love you Jimmy. You're the best little brother anyone could ever have. I thank God every day that you are too young to be drafted.

My hope for the world is currently scarce. Despair for the future fills me every day, which is suprising. I've always been optimistic, but the gray landscape, and temperature set the devil's thoughts in my mind. I don't understand why people feel the need to fight. They begin with greed, and the greed inspires power, and the power inspires resistance, and the resistance inspires wars, and rumours of wars. And that causes panic, and innocent lives being lost. I'm not going to survive, Jimmy. There is no way in heaven. I am eighteen years old, the British army is weak, and I am weak. Every day, we fight the German men across the no-man's-land, which claims more lives. Sickness seems to be taking even more. And despite my current weakness, I keep thinking of what I could become. I could be a father, I could marry a ladylike girl, I could see you grow up, and meet your children. I could walk our dear sister, Lucy down the aisle, since father is in heaven. I could have my own house, and live in it until I died; peaceful in my bed. But I will never have any of that. Instead, I will die in a muddy hole, with snow throughout my hair, and my body thrown out of the trench. What would you think of me, Jimmy, if I were to die in that way? Could you ever remember me the same?

I'm wishing you, and our family all the best, and would like to remind you to look after our sister and mother.

Your Brother,

William

 

December 24, 1914; The Western Front, France

 

Dear Jimmy,

Something remarkable happened tonight. I was watching for any firing from the other side, and wishing more than anything to be home for Christmas. The holiday season has created a bitter seed throughout the army. I think we all thought to be back in Britain by now.

While I was keeping lookout, I heard voices from the other side. But they weren't shouting, or angry. They were peaceful, and musical. The German men were singing "Oh Holy Night". My goodness, Jimmy, it was a song for the beaten. I drank it in, listening with every fiber of my being. I remembered when you and I would sit in the warm church, and sing Christmas hymns with mother and father by our side. I began to hum along.

Soon, all of my unit began listening with rapt attention. We all peeked over the trench, and saw warm German fires blazing, and the men singing. The beauty of Christmas filled the air. Normally, dear brother, the armies do not sit outside of the trenches and build fires. That is an invitation to be shot down. But not one man fired a shot, and not one order was issued. We simply listened to their tunes. And it was beautifully peaceful.

Your Brother,

William

 

December 25, 1914; The Western Front, France

 

Dear Jimmy,

Merry Christmas my wonderful brother. I so hope that you are having a happy day with mother and Lucy. I hope they are content as well.

I have had an astounding day. Right when I woke up, there was more Christmas music being sung. Our commading general proceeded to exit the trench, much to our fear. When we looked up from the side, we were able to see that from the German side, another man was walking towards our general. I saw that he was smiling. They met each other in between the no-man's-land, exchanged a few words, then shook hands.

After that, from both sides men began leaving the trenches and meeting in the middle. Our generals told us that in respect of the Christmas holiday, we were going to celebrate with each other. As equals. No fighting, they said, for the holiday.

These words were met with grins, and loud cheering. The two armies, British and German mixed together, as if we had never been fighting at all. We exchanged gifts, and food, and treats to one another. One man even had a soccer ball, and started up a game. Don't you remember, Jimmy, how we used to play in school? You and I were the best on the team. After one of the games, I began talking to a German soldier named Albert. I told him about you, little brother, and how we loved playing soccer. He told me earnestly that he had a younger brother as well, by four years. Just like you and I, Jimmy! With this thing the two of us shared in common, we became fast friends. He told me of how he and his little brother (Claus) used to go ice-fishing together every Christmas Day, and would bring home fish to their mother for part of their dinner. He wondered if Claus was fishing without him.

As the sun began to set, and the coldness became more prominent, it was time to get back to our sides. I painfully bid farewell to Albert, knowing that he and I probably wouldn't be allowed to peacefully meet ever again. I pray that he gets home to Claus, just like I want to get home to you.

It was amazing, Jimmy, that this happened. That we understood. Both sides don't really want to fight, because both sides are people, Jimmy. I don't think anyone is less than in the sight of God. Not British, or German. And today, we just lived, and let live. I wish mankind could always be that way. I wish we could always understand how to live properly. Every now and again, men understand. But that is quickly taken away by fools who love contention.

Whatever happens, I know that there is no end to anything. I know that if I die, there is still a journey for me to embrace. And in that journey, the people will forever be like the people I have met today, during this Christmas Truce. There is no end to glory, there is no end to love. There is no end to being, and there is no death above.

May God be with you until we meet again,

Your Loving Brother,

William

Reviews

[Meallea Pomorette]

"There is no end to glory, there is no end to love. There is no end to being, and there is no death above." ... I love this one... It reminds me of the song Ash Like Snow... Nice story so keep it up...