Winter Tales Five: Truce

“Grandpa, tell me a Christmas story!” I said. He looked away from the fire and smiled at me.

“Sure. How about I tell you about the Christmas Truce?”

“What's that?”

Grandpa stopped rocking for a second, seeming to ponder what he wanted to say. He crossed his legs, and then uncrossed them, almost knocking his prosthetic foot off his leg. “Well, you know how I was a soldier in the Great War?”

“Yeah! You told me.” Grandpa didn't usually like to talk about his time in the trenches, but he seemed so willing to share this experience with me. I guess it got me excited.

“Well, you know, during the war, we were all dug in, hiding in our trenches. My regiment was from England, and we were right across from the Germans. I think the distance between us was probably about the same as from our house to the Johnsons, across the street. It was absolutely miserable. Everything got muddy, our trench got flooded constantly, and the smell was just...” He trailed off. For a moment, I thought he was going to start crying, or maybe just stop. He had done it before, when I tried to ask him about the war.

“S-sorry, where was I?” He seemed to be holding back tears. “Oh, right. Sorry. I think I've made my point, the conditions were terrible. I started in September, and by December, all any of us wanted was to go home. We were so sick of fighting. We didn't have it bad as some parts, in fact, we could often hear constant explosions in the distance, one right after the other. The week of Christmas, we received word that we'd have to stay and fight over Christmas.”

He seemed to calm down a bit, and started rocking in his chair again. “Well, we weren't too happy about that, but we tried to make the best of it. Then, on Christmas Eve, we heard singing coming from the German trenches. Some of us started singing carols, as well. Then, a German came up from the trench and stood out in the middle of the battlefield. He called out to us in English, asking if we could have a truce, just for Christmas. Of course, we all said yes. We got out and met in the middle, exchanging rations and jokes, and singing Christmas carols, well into the night. The next day, we did it all over again. It was probably the only happy time I had in the whole war.” He sighed and looked down.

“What happened next, Grandpa?”

“Well, after the truce, quite a few of us refused to fight. We made friends that day, and we didn't want to end up killing them. So, the command transferred us to another area the next week. No matter how badly I thought of where we were, the place we were transferred to was much worse. The fighting was constant. I soon learned that there had been no truce there. Three days later, I lost my foot to a mortar. I think that saved my life, but...” At this point my grandfather stopped rocking, and wore a look of absolute consternation. He looked at me. “Well, I guess I just got lucky. I was sent home. After the war ended, I moved to America and met your grandmother, and that was that.”

He looked down, and I felt that I had gotten everything I could out of him. I don't know why he told me that story. It caused him so much pain to tell me that. I do miss him so much.