then, leaving their trenches, unarmed, they advanced towards us singing and shouting 'Comrades!' No one fired. We also had left our trenches and, separated from each other only by the half-frozen Yser, we exchanged presents. They gave us cigars, and we threw them some chocolate. Thus almost fraternizing we passed all the morning. Unlikely, indeed, but true. I saw it, but thought I was dreaming. They asked us to spend Christmas without firing, and the whole day passed without any fighting."
The last quotation is from an officer of the Rifle Brigade. In some respects it is the most interesting because of the type of man the writer shows himself to be. He tells that the Germans "had got little Christmas-trees lining all along the parapet of their trench," and adds "I was all for not allowing the blighters to enjoy themselves." Later, he rejoices that he had his excuse and "I quickly lined up my platoon and had those Christmas-trees down and out."
Yet in spite of his unfriendly feelings this officer is forced to realize the comradeship which exists, and the all important result that it some day must have. English and Germans unite to bury the German dead.
And then a little later:
"We gave them some wooden crosses for them, which completely won them over, and soon the men were on the best of terms and laughing. Several of the Saxons spoke very fair English, and some hailed from London, much to our Cockneys' delight, and talk became general about 'Peecadeely,' etc."
"It's really an extraordinary state of affairs. We had an inter-platoon game of football in the afternoon, a cap comforter stuffed with straw did for the ball, much to the Saxons' amusement."
"It is a rum show: I believe politicians will be wrong now, and that the war will come to an end because everyone will get fed up and refuse to go on shooting!"
Will they? What excellent good sense they would
