Sunday, July 28, 2013

Christmas Truce: A Short Story of the Great War (Part Five)

Christmas Truce - Contents:  

1. Prologue
2. Chapter One
3. Chapter Two
4. Chapter Three

***

Chapter Four


Not lost on Martin was that the last time he’d crossed this ground, it had been under Sergeant Danson’s steam, following the attack that had cost him a great deal of blood, plenty of pain, and, rather blessedly, allowed him some time away from the front. Even though, as he’d soon learned, there was never really any real disconnect, not even in the pleasant convalescence hospitals. Reminders of war were always there, haunted men, wounded men, the distant sound of the guns. It never really went away.

Yet, the circumstances now, as he and Henry trod carefully across the battlefield were wildly and strangely different. From the outset, it had been a struggle to make sure that they didn’t step on the bodies – or, in some circumstances, decayed remains – of their colleagues. It seemed hugely disrespectful to do so. The men who had fallen in the most recent attack, the one where he’d been wounded, were still basically recognisable, though their bodies had severely bloated, their dead skin a disturbing pasty white. Only now, weeks after the event, was Martin really coming to a realisation of just how many men had been killed.

Straight ahead, the men who had done the killing on that day: the Germans, a strange thought with the Christmas trees in their trench seeming at odds with the violence that occurred here almost minute-by-minute. Now, at least for the time being, they weren’t the enemy, weren’t the men who had swept through Paris and Belgium, very nearly capturing Paris – thus perhaps ending the war in their favour – before Sir John French and the British Expeditionary Force had arrived. There were four German officers, Martin saw, and he began to wonder if perhaps he should have requested the captain’s presence, for the Germans appeared to be very senior officers. Or, they were, as far as he could tell, without really knowing their rank insignias.

“Merry Christmas,” the lead German said in heavily accented English. “I am Major Roald Gerhardt of the 755th Infantry Regiment. My colonel has given me full authority to speak for his sector command. I thank you for agreeing to cease your fire and for honouring the symbol of the white flag.”

Martin smiled, but it was a strained one, the stress of the moment weighing surprisingly heavily on him. “That’s fine. No one wants to be fighting today, Major. I’m Lieutenant Wells, and my colleague, Lieutenant Watson. Merry Christmas to you, too.”

“They say that our two armies are involved in a football game further down the line,” Gerhardt said next. “We wanted to say…no enemies at Christmas. Not on this day.”

That piece of news was a surprise to Martin. One glance at the battlefield here, even a cursory one, was enough to understand that there would be no such event here – no matter how enthusiastic anyone was – because the terrain was a mess, as though the entire battlefield had been fed through some sort of giant meat grinder. There were shell craters big and small, shredded trees and, of course, bodies scattered haphazardly everywhere on undulating ground, too many of them Not exactly the right terrain for a pitch, Martin knew.

“No enemies,” Henry agreed, nodding. “Just miserable soldiers.”

“Your superior officers, will they agree to something more formal for this sector? For the day and night, perhaps?”

Martin nodded. “I would think so, yes, Major, but I can’t be sure without asking them. Perhaps you would permit us to return to our trenches to seek advice? We could agree to meet back here in…an hour, maybe?”

That suited the German officers so Martin and Henry picked their way carefully back to their own trenches, the strangeness of the meeting with the Germans – a group of men gathered to talk about a temporary cessation of hostilities only a few hours removed from trying to wipe the other’s army from the battlefield entirely, and would most likely be seeking to do the same in a few days’ time, too – not lost on them. Nor was the history of what they were involved in.

“Not bad fellows, I didn’t think,” Henry commented. “Not like the propaganda you see.”

“Personally, I wasn’t expecting sausage-eating barbarians,” Martin replied, referencing the cartoonish versions of the ‘rampaging Hun’ that were in all the English newspapers. “They’re just here doing a job for their country like we’re doing one for ours, I suppose. They think they’re in the right, and so do we. When you get down to the nitty gritty, there’s little difference between us.”

Henry nodded. “Especially on a day like today.”

Waiting for the two lieutenants when they were back in the safety of their own trenches, was Captain Walter Hetherington, who possessed the uncanny ability to look absolutely and completely resplendent in his uniform, no matter how much rain and mud happened to be around. Aside from always looking good, the captain, a regular Army officer shifted to this battalion of Yorkshire volunteers as part of a policy of placing experienced men with inexperienced units, though still getting used to his new command, struck all the men who served under him as a steady and calm soldier. Beside him was the still-angry Danson.

“Handling the diplomacy of the war all by yourselves, have you, gentlemen?” Hetherington asked, though not unkindly.

“No one else wanted to go out there, sir – which isn't to say that I blame anyone for begging off that duty – but I didn’t mind, and I didn’t think it prudent to wait,” Martin explained. “If the Germans didn’t see someone from our side come out, they might’ve thought we weren’t interested.”

“Well done, good initiative,” the captain replied. “What did the Hun have to say?”

“They propose a truce for today and tonight,” Martin explained. “If we’re agreeable.”

Hetherington nodded, indicating that he was certainly agreeable. “What answer did you give them?”

“None, sir.” Martin shook his head, noting that Danson looked like he would burst if he wasn’t able to voice his thoughts. “I said that I’d have to talk with my superiors. We’re to meet them again in one hour’s time.”

“Alright, well, as far as I’m concerned, there’s nothing preventing us from organising a truce of our own. It's happening up and down the line, from what I've been told. So why not here as well? A little peace and quiet on Christmas Day would be very pleasant indeed." 

Finally, Sergeant Danson spoke. “Sir, they’ve killed thousands of our men since the beginning of the war. In my book, that’s reason enough.”

“Yes, well, we’ve killed the same number of their men and that hasn’t stopped them from extending the olive branch, has it?” Hetherington regarded his most experienced sergeant for a moment, and shook his head. “I want to salvage what we can from Christmas, Sergeant Danson, and this is the best way to do it, I think.”

“I respectfully disagree,” Danson said, his voice barely skirting the border of insolence. “And I shall have no part of whatever takes place.”

“That’s your prerogative, Sergeant Danson. Enjoying Christmas Day isn’t an order, so you are more than welcome to excuse yourself from it. Lieutenant Wells, Lieutenant Watson, when the hour comes around for us to go and talk with the Germans, you shall have my company.”

The hour passed quickly, and they were back out into No Man’s Land again, having gotten word from one of the lookouts – those men continued to use the periscopes, until everything was sorted out – that the Germans had also climbed out of their trenches. The fog had gone now, and it promised to be a beautiful sunny day, one quite at odds with the destruction around them, Martin thought.

At least the destruction would be temporarily put on hold. That was something to be very glad of, and Martin hadn’t been quite certain that it would happen properly until Captain Hetherington had agreed. It was a not-so-small slice of luck that the man in charge didn’t have the same thoughts on a ceasefire as Sergeant Danson did. Martin wondered how many other men were like the sergeant in that regard.

“Captain Walter Hetherington,” the captain said to the Germans, shaking the hand offered by Major Gerhardt. “The lieutenants tell me that you are proposing a truce?”

Gerhardt nodded. “As I told your officers before, my colonel, who, regrettably is quite unwell at the moment, has given me permission to negotiate on his behalf. We propose a cease fire for the rest of the day, and tonight, until first light in the morning, if you are agreeable?”

“Very agreeable,” Hetherington confirmed. “Shall we put a time to it, for tomorrow morning, perhaps? I propose eight o’clock.”

“Eight o’clock it is,” Gerhardt agreed. “The specifics: it must be agreed that neither side comes within twenty yards of the other side’s trenches. All reconnaissance activities must cease along with the guns. If we see aeroplanes overhead, or your soldiers seeking to look at our fortifications, the ceasefire is over, immediately.”

For his part, Martin severely doubted that any of the men who made up the Royal Flying Corps would be even vaguely fit to take an aeroplane into the skies today. He’d seen enough of those daredevils since arriving at the front to know that they enjoyed a drink – perhaps it was their way of getting through the fear of aerial dogfighting – and could only imagine that they’d had twice as much on Christmas Eve.

Really, the terms were to be expected, and Martin wasn’t at all surprised that they had been so leveled. The Germans were about as keen on the British getting a proper look at their defensive preparations as the British were about the opposite happening. Thankfully there was plenty of empty ground between the two sets of trenches, and so no real need for any man to be straying too close to the other side's fortifications.

“That’s fine,” Hetherington said. “Thank you for your efforts in this regard. I wish you and your men a merry Christmas.”

For the first time in the exchange, Gerhardt breathed a sigh of relief and smiled. “And the same to you, Captain.”

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