[Peace] Occupy GA 6pm tonight 12/23; AWARE meets next on 1/1; and, the 1914 Christmas truce

[John W.]

That story about the WWI soldiers, which I've seen before, is a lovely
story.  A pity they weren't able to take the next step, and refuse to fight
further.

John Wason



On Fri, Dec 23, 2011 at 1:49 PM, Stuart Levy <salevy at illinois.edu> wrote:

 There'll be a possibly-less-formal-than-usual OccupyCU general assembly
> meeting tonight, *6pm Friday 12/23, in the Market Place Mall food court*.
> No signs please, but if you've got an interesting shirt, please wear it.
>
> AWARE *won't* have our usual Sunday meeting on Christmas Day - no 12/25
> meeting.
> We will be back at McKinley on the following Sunday, Jan 1st.
>
> Meanwhile, OccupyCU and AWARE aim to show the Frank Capra movie, "It's a
> Wonderful Life",
> on Thursday, 12/29, at 6pm in Champaign Library Robeson room C.
>
> And... Christmas is upon us and we remain at war, in even more places than
> ever.  The orders for war come from the top - the 1% - but  recognition of
> our common humanity and the impulse to peace can come from any of us, if we
> are ready to see through the lies used to divide us.
>
> On Christmas, 1914, in the midst of the brutal First World War, some
> German and British and French soldiers did just that.
> (Thanks to Ted Glick, who posted the letter below to the United for Peace
> and Justice mailing list.)
>
>
> Christmas Day, 1914
>
> My dear sister Janet,
>
> It is 2:00 in the morning and most of our men are asleep in their
> dugouts -- yet I could not sleep myself before writing to you of the
> wonderful events of Christmas Eve. In truth, what happened seems
> almost like a fairy tale, and if I hadn't been through it myself, I
> would scarce believe it. Just imagine: While you and the family sang
> carols before the fire there in London, I did the same with enemy
> soldiers here on the battlefields of France!
>
> As I wrote before, there has been little serious fighting of late. The
> first battles of the war left so many dead that both sides have held
> back until replacements could come from home. So we have mostly stayed
> in our trenches and waited.
>
> But what a terrible waiting it has been! Knowing that any moment an
> artillery shell might land and explode beside us in the trench,
> killing or maiming several men. And in daylight not daring to lift our
> heads above ground, for fear of a sniper's bullet.
>
> And the rain -- it has fallen almost daily. Of course, it collects
> right in our trenches, where we must bail it out with pots and pans.
> And with the rain has come mud -- a good foot or more deep. It
> splatters and cakes everything, and constantly sucks at our boots. One
> new recruit got his feet stuck in it, and then his hands too when he
> tried to get out -- just like in that American story of the tar baby!
>
> Through all this, we couldn't help feeling curious about the German
> soldiers across the way. After all, they faced the same dangers we
> did, and slogged about in the same muck. What's more, their first
> trench was only 50 yards from ours. Between us lay No Man's Land,
> bordered on both sides by barbed wire -- yet they were close enough we
> sometimes heard their voices.
>
> Of course, we hated them when they killed our friends. But other
> times, we joked about them and almost felt we had something in common.
> And now it seems they felt the same.
>
> Just yesterday morning -- Christmas Eve Day -- we had our first good
> freeze. Cold as we were, we welcomed it, because at least the mud
> froze solid. Everything was tinged white with frost, while a bright
> sun shone over all. Perfect Christmas weather.
>
> During the day, there was little shelling or rifle fire from either
> side. And as darkness fell on our Christmas Eve, the shooting stopped
> entirely. Our first complete silence in months! We hoped it might
> promise a peaceful holiday, but we didn't count on it. We'd been told
> the Germans might attack and try to catch us off guard.
>
> I went to the dugout to rest, and lying on my cot, I must have drifted
> asleep. All at once my friend John was shaking me awake, saying, "Come
> and see! See what the Germans are doing!" I grabbed my rifle, stumbled
> out into the trench, and stuck my head cautiously above the sandbags.
>
> I never hope to see a stranger and more lovely sight. Clusters of tiny
> lights were shining all along the German line, left and right as far
> as the eye could see.
>
> "What is it?" I asked in bewilderment, and John answered, "Christmas
> trees!"
>
> And so it was. The Germans had placed Christmas trees in front of
> their trenches, lit by candle or lantern like beacons of good will.
>
> And then we heard their voices raised in song.
>
>      "Stille nacht, heilige nacht...."
>
> This carol may not yet be familiar to us in Britain, but John knew it
> and translated: "Silent night, holy night." I've never heard one
> lovelier -- or more meaningful, in that quiet, clear night, its dark
> softened by a first-quarter moon.
>
> When the song finished, the men in our trenches applauded. Yes,
> British soldiers applauding Germans! Then one of our own men started
> singing, and we all joined in.
>
>      "The first Nowell, the angel did say...."
>
> In truth, we sounded not nearly as good as the Germans, with their
> fine harmonies. But they responded with enthusiastic applause of their
> own and then began another.
>
>      "O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum...."
>
> Then we replied.
>
>      "O come all ye faithful...."
>
> But this time they joined in, singing the same words in Latin.
>
>      "Adeste fideles...."
>
> British and German harmonizing across No Man's Land! I would have
> thought nothing could be more amazing -- but what came next was more
> so.
>
> "English, come over!" we heard one of them shout. "You no shoot, we no
> shoot."
>
> There in the trenches, we looked at each other in bewilderment. Then
> one of us shouted jokingly, "You come over here."
>
> To our astonishment, we saw two figures rise from the trench, climb
> over their barbed wire, and advance unprotected across No Man's Land.
> One of them called, "Send officer to talk."
>
> I saw one of our men lift his rifle to the ready, and no doubt others
> did the same -- but our captain called out, "Hold your fire." Then he
> climbed out and went to meet the Germans halfway. We heard them
> talking, and a few minutes later, the captain came back with a German
> cigar in his mouth!
>
> "We've agreed there will be no shooting before midnight tomorrow," he
> announced. "But sentries are to remain on duty, and the rest of you,
> stay alert."
>
> Across the way, we could make out groups of two or three men starting
> out of trenches and coming toward us. Then some of us were climbing
> out too, and in minutes more, there we were in No Man's Land, over a
> hundred soldiers and officers of each side, shaking hands with men
> we'd been trying to kill just hours earlier!
>
> Before long a bonfire was built, and around it we mingled -- British
> khaki and German grey. I must say, the Germans were the better
> dressed, with fresh uniforms for the holiday.
>
> Only a couple of our men knew German, but more of the Germans knew
> English. I asked one of them why that was.
>
> "Because many have worked in England!" he said. "Before all this, I
> was a waiter at the Hotel Cecil. Perhaps I waited on your table!"
>
> "Perhaps you did!" I said, laughing.
>
> He told me he had a girlfriend in London and that the war had
> interrupted their plans for marriage. I told him, "Don't worry. We'll
> have you beat by Easter, then you can come back and marry the girl."
>
> He laughed at that. Then he asked if I'd send her a postcard he'd give
> me later, and I promised I would.
>
> Another German had been a porter at Victoria Station. He showed me a
> picture of his family back in Munich. His eldest sister was so lovely,
> I said I should like to meet her someday. He beamed and said he would
> like that very much and gave me his family's address.
>
> Even those who could not converse could still exchange gifts -- our
> cigarettes for their cigars, our tea for their coffee, our corned beef
> for their sausage. Badges and buttons from uniforms changed owners,
> and one of our lads walked off with the infamous spiked helmet! I
> myself traded a jackknife for a leather equipment belt -- a fine
> souvenir to show when I get home.
>
> Newspapers too changed hands, and the Germans howled with laughter at
> ours. They assured us that France was finished and Russia nearly
> beaten too. We told them that was nonsense, and one of them said,
> "Well, you believe your newspapers and we'll believe ours."
>
> Clearly they are lied to -- yet after meeting these men, I wonder how
> truthful our own newspapers have been. These are not the "savage
> barbarians" we've read so much about. They are men with homes and
> families, hopes and fears, principles and, yes, love of country. In
> other words, men like ourselves. Why are we led to believe otherwise?
>
> As it grew late, a few more songs were traded around the fire, and
> then all joined in for -- I am not lying to you -- "Auld Lang Syne."
> Then we parted with promises to meet again tomorrow, and even some
> talk of a football match.
>
> I was just starting back to the trenches when an older German clutched
> my arm. "My God," he said, "why cannot we have peace and all go home?"
>
> I told him gently, "That you must ask your emperor."
>
> He looked at me then, searchingly. "Perhaps, my friend. But also we
> must ask our hearts."
>
> And so, dear sister, tell me, has there ever been such a Christmas Eve
> in all history? And what does it all mean, this impossible befriending
> of enemies?
>
> For the fighting here, of course, it means regrettably little. Decent
> fellows those soldiers may be, but they follow orders and we do the
> same. Besides, we are here to stop their army and send it home, and
> never could we shirk that duty.
>
> Still, one cannot help imagine what would happen if the spirit shown
> here were caught by the nations of the world. Of course, disputes must
> always arise. But what if our leaders were to offer well wishes in
> place of warnings? Songs in place of slurs? Presents in place of
> reprisals? Would not all war end at once?
>
> All nations say they want peace. Yet on this Christmas morning, I
> wonder if we want it quite enough.
>
> Your loving brother,
>
> Tom
>
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