The Christmas Truce

[Tooj 17]

http://www.espnfc.com/blog/espn-fc-united-blog/68/post/2191045/christmas-truce-soccer-matches-during-world-war-i-remembered-simon-kuper

Kurt Zehmisch was a German lieutenant in the first World War. He disappeared forever in the Soviet Union in the second. In 1999, his son Rudolf found his dad's diary in the attic. This is what Zehmisch Senior recorded for Christmas Day, 1914: "A couple of Britons brought a ball along from their trenches, and a lively game began. How fantastically wonderful and strange. The English officers experienced it like that too -- that thanks to soccer and Christmas, the feast of love, deadly enemies briefly came together as friends."

It was one of several impromptu soccer matches played between British and German soldiers in No Man's Land that Christmas. For one day -- and in some sectors of the line, for several days -- the enemies made a spontaneous peace. A century on, these games transfix Europeans. "We all grew up with the story of soldiers from both sides putting down their arms on Christmas Day," says Prince William, president of the English Football Association. No wonder, because this extraordinary story suggests an alternative history of the 20th century. Many people, including some veterans of the war, have doubted that these games were ever played. The story seems too good to be true. Indeed, Geoff Dyer in his 1994 book "The Missing of the Somme" dismisses it as myth. Some historians believe the truth is somewhere in between. Others contend that the impact of the games has been overstated as we witness the Premier League and FA, among other organizations, commemorate the moment.

But based on a slew of books and other sources, I believe the Christmas matches happened. They are described in dozens of letters, regimental histories, diaries, contemporary British newspapers and postwar memoirs. They are commemorated in the "In Flanders Field" war museum in Ypres, Belgium. Authoritative books by the American historian Stanley Weintraub (emeritus professor at Penn State University), by the German writer Michael Jurgs and a joint history by Malcolm Brown and Shirley Seaton have described the Christmas truce.

According to all these sources, the following narrative emerges. The troops had gone to war in August 1914 expecting to be home by Christmas. That didn't happen. Many, in fact, would never come home. By Christmas 1914, stunning modern killing machines had left about 750,000 people dead.

In December, the German high command, hoping to boost morale, sent thousands of little Christmas trees to the trenches. The aim was to keep the soldiers' hearts in the battle. Instead it had the opposite effect. Christmas highlighted similarities between Christian nations in opposite trenches. When German soldiers at La Chapelle d'Armentieres in France sang the carol, "Stille Nacht" (the original of the English "Silent Night", with the same tune), a British regiment shouted for more. Near the French village Fleurbaix, British soldiers in their trenches saw Christmas trees hung with lights advancing into No Man's Land. The Germans were making a seasonal gesture. The Brits responded.

As well as sharing Christmas, the soldiers had gotten to know the enemy. In some spots the trenches were barely 50 meters apart. You could see enemy soldiers shaving in the morning. Often there were informal truces while stretcher-bearers went around No Man's Land collecting the dead. Few French or Belgian regiments participated in the Christmas truce. They had more reason than the Brits to hate the Germans, who had invaded their countries. But for hundreds of miles along the British-German lines, there was fraternization.

It began spontaneously, and slightly differently in each sector, and yet a coherent story emerges. Germans would raise sheets with texts scrawled on them like, "You no shoot, we no shoot." A head would pop up above the parapet. Suddenly German soldiers would be walking in No Man's Land. Britons left their trenches to meet them.

Everywhere enemies shook hands, wished each other merry Christmas, and arranged not to shoot the next day. Together they fantasized about the war dissolving in a burst of brotherhood. In the surviving photographs -- one of which appeared in several British newspapers on January 8, 1915 -- they still stand huddled together in No Man's Land. They all wear moustaches, thick coats and scarves. Smoke rises from the German cigars they are sharing.

They also shared Christmas dinners, promised to meet again after the war, and wondered why they were fighting. Britons donned German helmets. Germans sang "God Save the King." Some Germans told stories of working as waiters, barbers or taxi drivers in prewar Britain. "Good morning, sir," a German said to a British lance corporal. "I live at Alexander Road, Hornsey. And I would see Woolwich Arsenal play Tottenham tomorrow."

How do men without a common language express friendship? They play soccer. Christmas kickabouts erupted across No Man's Land. After German and Scottish soldiers had finished their game (inevitably, the Germans won), one German produced a camera. "The players of both teams gathered in a group, always beautiful coloured rows, the ball in the middle," recalled the Saxon lieutenant Johannes Niemann. The Scots were wearing kilts, and as the Saxons had discovered to their glee during the match, wore no underpants. Sadly, the best team photograph ever has disappeared, unless it's still mouldering in somebody's attic.

The games weren't serious. One lasted only an hour, after which both teams were exhausted. And though corpses had been cleared from the battlefield earlier that day, shell holes and the soldiers' huge boots made close control impossible. Players who fell in the mud were pulled out by the enemy, to cheers from spectators perched on the parapets.

"Goalposts were either a couple of pieces of wood, or caps or helmets," writes Jurgs.

Ernie Williams, in 1914 a British soldier in the 6th Cheshires regiment, told the BBC TV programme Grandstand 69 years later: "It was just a general kickabout. I should think there were about a couple of hundred taking part ... I was pretty good then, at 19 ... There was no sort of ill-will between us. ... It was simply a melee -- nothing like the soccer you see on television. The boots we wore were a menace -- those great big boots we had on -- and in those days the balls were made of leather and they soon got very soggy."

Not everyone liked the truce. Superior officers on both sides stopped it within days. The British brigadier CM Richards (also quoted by Weintraub) recalled in a postwar memoir having received a signal from Battalion Headquarters on Christmas Day "telling me to make a soccer pitch in No Man's Land, by filling up shellholes, etc, and to challenge the enemy to a match on the 1st January. I was furious and took no action at all. I wish I had kept that signal. Stupidly I destroyed it -- I was so angry. It would have been a good souvenir."

A 25-year-old German soldier named Adolf Hitler was equally shocked by the truce. In Weintraub account, he had spent Christmas Day in the cellar of an abbey near Ypres, Belgium. Told later that men of his regiment had played soccer with them, he exclaimed: "Something like that should not happen in wartime. Have you no German honor?" German regimental histories written under Nazism do not mention the truce.

THIS MONTH BRITONS in particular are remembering the soccer games of Christmas 1914. Indeed, the British Council found that over two-thirds of British adults knew about them. Schools around Britain are playing commemorative matches. Earlier this month, before every English professional game, all 22 starting players posed for a group photograph, recalling the picture of German and British soldiers posing together.

You can see why people remember. The Christmas truce offers a glimpse of an alternative history: a 20th century in which, starting at Christmas 1914, everyone stops shooting and starts playing soccer. Then we'd have had no Russian revolution in 1917, no future for lance-corporal Hitler, no Stalingrad, Auschwitz or the divided Europe of the Cold War. "Christmas 1914," writes Weintraub, "suggests an unrealized potential to burst its seams and rewrite a century." The soccer players of that day, most of them probably dead by 1918, would have wanted it.

There's one other thing to say about the Christmas soccer. To the soldiers chasing balls amid shell holes that day, one fact was obvious: soccer wasn't war. In fact, it was its opposite. Yet until that Christmas, the British consensus had been that soccer was a sort of war. The traditional idea was that sports bred the manliness and team spirit required for "the greater game" of war.

Long after peace had returned to Europe, many European newspapers and soccer men still talked about soccer as if it were a kind of war. Bobby Robson, England manager from 1982 to 1990, eulogized his captain Bryan Robson with imagery straight from the first World War: "You could put him in any trench and know he'd be the first over the top ... he wouldn't think well, Christ, if I put my head up there it might get shot off."

This sort of talk wasn't just an English disorder. Sepp Herberger, who coached West Germany to victory at the 1954 World Cup, wrote: "A good soccer player is also always a good soldier." West Germany's great striker during the 1970s, Gerd Müller, was nicknamed "The Bomber". This kind of talk has almost died out now. Nobody uses military metaphors to eulogize Lionel Messi or Cristiano Ronaldo, and nobody still likens the German team to Panzer tanks. We're now remembering Christmas 1914 in part because we're returning to its vision: war is war, and soccer is something much better.

 

 

There was also a cracking bit on 5 Live about this last week that's worth a listen of anybody's time.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b04svgl9

http://www.bbc.co.uk/blogs/aboutthebbc/entries/11d00a57-1e10-3ae1-ac06-9096f9814241

 

After I retired as football correspondent and commentator at the World Cup in Brazil, I was invited to make occasional contributions to some special programmes on 5 live. Little did I know how ‘special’ the first one would be.

I have never taken part in anything before like Tunics For Goalposts – never felt so emotionally involved in a project – never learned so much from one hour.

Like most people, I have been made aware of the horror of the First World War. There probably isn’t a single family in the UK without some connection to the horrendous events between 1914 and 1918.

My knowledge though was sketchy and superficial. I had never visited any of the frontline battlefields in Belgium and France, something I would now urge everyone to try and do.

When you do, as I discovered, it is of course impossible to fully comprehend what it must have been like to experience such personal carnage and trauma – however walking ankle deep in autumnal mud on a raw November morning shrouded in mist across the ploughed battlefields on the Somme does offer an insight into how desperate it must have been for the troops, huddled together in rat-infested trenches, deprived of sleep, numb with cold and terrified that every day could be your last.

Everywhere you walk in those farmlands and forests, you are mindful of the fact that more often than not your footsteps are being made over hallowed soil, a massed burial ground underneath filled with so many bodies never recovered from the bloody conflict after vanishing beneath a quagmire of craters.

Among those entombed having lost their lives so young were footballers, who would never return to their clubs. Players from all levels of the game united in their supreme sacrifice.

Originally our intention on 5 live was to make a programme about the infamous Christmas truce matches in 1914, to discover and debate whether they were fact or fiction. This will be an important part of the programme, however the more we researched the subject it became clear that we should take on a wider brief and pay tribute to the footballers who gave their lives for their country.

When war broke out in August 1914, football was initially pilloried in many quarters as the league programme continued and the game came under great pressure. Attitudes soon changed. Hearts in Scotland led the way as football answered the call, and uniquely many of the players who decided to enlist for service did so by signing up for the 17th Middlesex regiment which was to become known as the footballers battalion.

I was accompanied on my visit to France by Andrew Riddoch, author of When the Whistle Blows, the definitive story of the footballers battalion. In the book and in the programme, Andrew documents stories of remarkable gallantry by footballers on the frontline and records how whenever the opportunity presented itself they still managed to put their tunics down for goalposts and play games.

Andrew highlights the story of one of the most popular players who lost his life, the Grimsby Town captain Sidney Wheelhouse. 5 live made it possible for two of his descendants to travel with us in France to visit his grave for the first time. Sid’s great granddaughter Diane and husband Dean, a Falklands veteran have ensured that his name is never forgotten in Grimsby and after laying a wreath and leaving a Grimsby Town scarf by his gravestone now feel an even closer bond with him after what was an overwhelmingly emotional experience for them both.

Sidney was one of the unlucky ones who didn’t return. The Great War was such a lottery. My mother was born five years after the war ended and told me that her father jack had signed up for service after lying about his age. At the tender age of 17. A notebook in the breast pocket of his uniform deflected a sniper’s bullet and saved his life…and mine!

[Rayvin 5186]

I always liked this story - clear evidence that the normal people on both sides of the war remained decent human beings - led by psychopaths at the top.

 

Cheers for posting.

[PaddockLad 17114]

I remember when I was a teenager the BBC tracked down an old boy who had taken part in one of the games that broke out at Christmas 1914 and John Motson interviewed him < quick YouTube search > Doesn't look like it's there, and am pretty sure I've seen a clip of it since so it still must exist, strange they haven't dug it out this year.

[PaddockLad 17114]

Actually now I've read the piece it sounds like the boy in question is quoted, Ernie Walker of the 6th Cheshires, 69 years later, I'd have been 13 or 14 when I saw it.

[Anorthernsoul 1221]

Shame we never learn't anything from it.

[Tooj 17]

Even though it's quite cheesy Joyeux Noel is quite a good film about all of this.

[Howmanheyman 32795]

Red Baron

False number NEIN!!!!

Field Marshal Haig

Right back (about ten miles behind the front line)

US armed Forces

Late substitute

Russian Forces

Internal fighting

[Noelie 103]

It's more often than not construed as here say but my uncle George Carson told me about a football scrimmage on Christmas Day 1914 between British and German soldiers.

My uncle George and his wife, my mam's twin sister, raised my sister and I after we lost our mother in December 1940.

George had indeed lied about his age and joined the Northumberland Fusiliers at 17 and was actually wounded before he was 18 years old. He survived the war after being wounded 5 times and carried pieces of shrapnel in his arm for the rest of his life.

George never spoke about the trench warfare or the war in general but when I was 11 years old I came down with a serious case of Asthma, so bad I was in bed for 3 months, even spent a week in the Infirmary. It was during this time, uncle George would sit by the side of my bed most evenings and talk to me, telling me stories about his life, family, and his time in the army. He was the finest man I ever knew, my 2 children have the middle name of Carson in respect for him.

 

His memory of the football scrimmage was a little different, there was no ball, just a bunch of rags tied together with string and belts. He said the Germans started it, they raised a white flag, which was honoured, and a few of them got out of their trench and started kicking this rag-ball around. Initially, my uncle said they thought the white flag was so they could attend to their dead and wounded but when it was obvious that wasn't their intent, it wasn't long before some of his mates joined in the kick about. He didn't mention anything about trees, gifts, cigars, etc, only the kick about.

I recall him telling me there was no bloody way he was getting out of his trench except if the whistle blew for them to go over the top and even then he was a bit reluctant. He told me he had gone over the top 4 times and each time never got further than the top before being knocked back by enemy fire.

[ClubSpinDoctor 0]

THE CHRISTMAS TR...uce

THE CHRISTMAS T...HREAD

 

stop getting his hopes up!

[Alex 34877]

It's more often than not construed as here say but my uncle George Carson told me about a football scrimmage on Christmas Day 1914 between British and German soldiers.

My uncle George and his wife, my mam's twin sister, raised my sister and I after we lost our mother in December 1940.

George had indeed lied about his age and joined the Northumberland Fusiliers at 17 and was actually wounded before he was 18 years old. He survived the war after being wounded 5 times and carried pieces of shrapnel in his arm for the rest of his life.

George never spoke about the trench warfare or the war in general but when I was 11 years old I came down with a serious case of Asthma, so bad I was in bed for 3 months, even spent a week in the Infirmary. It was during this time, uncle George would sit by the side of my bed most evenings and talk to me, telling me stories about his life, family, and his time in the army. He was the finest man I ever knew, my 2 children have the middle name of Carson in respect for him.

 

His memory of the football scrimmage was a little different, there was no ball, just a bunch of rags tied together with string and belts. He said the Germans started it, they raised a white flag, which was honoured, and a few of them got out of their trench and started kicking this rag-ball around. Initially, my uncle said they thought the white flag was so they could attend to their dead and wounded but when it was obvious that wasn't their intent, it wasn't long before some of his mates joined in the kick about. He didn't mention anything about trees, gifts, cigars, etc, only the kick about.

I recall him telling me there was no bloody way he was getting out of his trench except if the whistle blew for them to go over the top and even then he was a bit reluctant. He told me he had gone over the top 4 times and each time never got further than the top before being knocked back by enemy fire.

Lots of primary sources on both sides mention it so it's pretty certain it happened. Interesting to hear your story about it. It's a great story really.