Meeting the Enemy (21 page)

Scots Guards officer Lieutenant Wilfrid Ewart was much closer. He had begun that day gazing over the parapet at a drab landscape, noting the rise and fall in the ground, the irregular line of trenches and the untidy sandbagged parapets. He could see a stream marked by ‘a line of twisted brown willows bent to every conceivable shape’. The stream ran down the middle of no-man’s-land, where the coarse grass hid ‘little mouldering heaps of grey and khaki’, like ‘heaps of old clothes or fallen scarecrows’. These were the dead from the battles of Festubert, of Neuve Chapelle and Loos, and it was among the fallen that the Scots Guards and Germans met.

The men mingle together in a haphazard throng. They talk and gesticulate, and shake hands over and over again. They pat each other on the shoulder and laugh like schoolboys, and leap across the little stream for fun. And when an Englishman falls in and a Bosche helps him out there is a shout of laughter that echoes back to the trenches. The Germans exchange cigars and pieces of sausages, and sauerkraut and concentrated coffee for cigarettes, and bully-beef and ration-biscuits and tobacco.

They express mutual admiration by pointing and signs. It is our leather waistcoats and trench-coats that attract their attention; it is their trench-overalls, made of coarse canvas, that attract ours . . .

Confidences are exchanged in broken English.

‘When’s the war going to end?’

‘After the Spring offensive.’

‘Yes, after the Spring offensive.’

‘What sort of trenches have you?’

‘Rotten! Knee deep in mud and water. Not fit for pigs.’

‘Aren’t you sick of the war? We are!’

‘Not a bit.’

And the information is even vouchsafed that our Christmas Eve bombardment had caused the Germans a lot of casualties.

Meanwhile, Private William Gordon was making his way to join the throng that he estimated to be around two hundred in number.

Within minutes I had reached the main crowd in No Man’s Land, the Germans dancing to their harmonicas which they had brought with them . . . I got talking to a few Germans, some of whom could speak a little English. One especially, I liked, was a fairly tall young man who some years before the war had been a waiter in the Savoy Hotel, London . . . I suggested to him that we get busy and bury some of the dead that were lying around both German and British. These men were either killed during the May fighting or were killed whilst on night patrol, their bodies not being recovered. Anyway, the two of us got started, removing the identity discs from the British soldiers whilst my ex Savoy Hotel friend did likewise for the German dead.

During this job of ours, I saw several German officers approach from their trenches and on reaching where we were grouped, saluted the officers of C Company, then headed by Sir Iain Colquhoun, who returned the salute but did not accept the offer to shake hands.

After I had finished burying some of the dead, I drifted off towards the German front line to check on his barbed wire strength, having been that way some nights previously. Daylight confirmed my night patrol report, ie in strength and in good repair. Time was getting on and sometime between 10 and 11 a.m., news was received that the 9th (Welch) Division on our right of the trenches had orders to commence at 12 noon artillery fire on the ground where the unofficial cease-fire soldiers were still talking together. The news of the artillery fire was passed on to the Germans and a general drift back to their respective trenches then took place.

Clearly, Gordon’s memory of the truce is that it lasted far longer than that reported by Colquhoun. Ewart agreed with Gordon that the fraternisation began around 8 a.m., not 9 a.m. as noted by his Commanding Officer, but agrees with Colquhoun that it lasted only a short time. Whatever the exact truth, Sir Iain had permitted a short fraternisation to continue after the burial of the dead, then:

When the time was up, I blew a whistle and both sides returned to their trenches. For the rest of the day the Germans walked about and sat on their parapets and our men did much the same, but remained in their trenches. Not a shot was fired.

That night the Germans put up fairy lights on their parapets, and their trenches were outlined for miles on either side. It was a mild looking night with clouds and a full moon and the prettiest sight I have ever seen. Our machine guns played on them, and the lights were removed.

The Christmas Truce was over, but the ramifications of this fraternisation were about to be felt at divisional headquarters where the festive spirit was in shorter supply. The war history of Scots Guards records that Captain Barne heard about the incident while at battalion headquarters. News came not from the front line but from brigade headquarters that had, in turn, heard from corps headquarters. Barne at once went off to the trenches to put a stop to the fraternisation, but by the time he got there it was all over, and the men were back in the trenches settling down to the day’s routine.

Sir Iain records the arrival not of Barne but of a more senior officer. ‘The Brigadier (who came round my trenches 10 minutes after my truce was over) didn’t mind a bit, but Major General Cavan [Divisional Commander] is furious about it.’ Sir Iain was told to leave the trenches the following morning and give an account of what had happened and to explain his conduct. An officer arrived to relieve Captain Barne of his command.

The Scots Guards were taken out of the trenches on 26 December and went in to rest at La Gorgue. The seriousness with which senior officers were taking the meeting in no-man’s-land was beginning to make itself apparent, as Private William Gordon realised.

On reaching our farmhouse billets, we were instructed to remain where we were and in no case allowed outside our billets. Immediate action was taken re letter-writing and men warned not to mention any of the Christmas Day happenings. All letters were subject to censorship by company officers, that being the usual rule but in addition the men were informed that the issue of Green envelopes was to cease at once.

Leave to the UK for soldiers serving in France used to take place once in every eight months or so; but as a further general punishment and to block news of the event, all leave was cancelled for six months. In my case I was in France from early October 1915 to late January 1917 before I had my first ten days’ leave to the UK, so in a way I did pay for getting friendly with the Bavarians.

Despite the rising brouhaha over his company’s participation in a second, strictly forbidden, Christmas Truce, Sir Iain Colquhoun was surprised to be handed a note from the Colonel placing him under arrest for his ‘share’ in the Christmas Day fraternisation; Captain Miles Barne was also held.

Both men were charged with conduct to the prejudice of good order and military discipline and ordered to attend a court martial hearing set for 17 January. In the event, Miles Barne was acquitted, and exonerated of all blame. When Sir Iain’s case was heard, he argued that, as he noted down in his diary, when he arrived in the trenches he discovered ‘a very advanced situation’, and one ‘which I did my best to regularize by having a definite agreement as to how long the situation was to last’. Despite his protestations, Sir Iain was found guilty.

In the end the sentence was light. Sir Iain was to be ‘reprimanded’, but although General Headquarters chose to quash this sentence, the conviction remained. The court martial sent a warning shot across the collective bow, underlining to all, if they were not already aware, just how seriously the army viewed and would in future view fraternisation with the enemy. As the war became more embittered, the chances of such an instantaneous meeting diminished with each passing year. Incidents of fraternisation continued to occur, but nothing like the truce of 1914 and the much smaller truce of 1915 was ever seen again.

5

Fronting Up

Over on the Western Front something strange was going on in the trenches near Souchez. Gifts were being exchanged with the enemy, but this time it was not a case of illicit fraternisation. On the contrary: orders were being followed, as the War Diary of the 1st Royal Berkshire Regiment made clear.

24 April, 1916

Weather fine. The Brigade sent up three English newspapers with orders that these were to be thrown into the German trenches. This was done by Private Barnes who threw them onto the enemy parapet and retired. A German crawled out and took the papers acknowledging them with a salute . . .

Six days later, at about five in the afternoon, the War Diary recorded that the enemy blew a mine under the British front line, just to the right of the Berkshires’ position. No details were given as to casualties but the Germans had followed up the explosion with a ‘very heavy bombardment’ causing serious damage to the trenches. Fortunately, there was no accompanying infantry attack, allowing the men to make good the destruction. In addition to the clear-up, some small improvements were made to the drainage under the supervision of the Royal Engineers. Then, as though this was perfectly normal, the diary continued: ‘By order of the Brigade we sent over several English newspapers and were given 3 copies of the
Hamburger Fremdenblatt
.’

War Diaries vary greatly in detail, and those of three other battalions in the 99th Brigade make no mention of communication with the Germans at this time, nor does the Brigade Diary. However, an intelligence report was sent to Headquarters, 2nd Division, and this does add a few interesting if inconsequential details to the story.

‘They [the newspapers] were evidently a popular gift as three German officers were seen standing up this morning, smiling and endeavouring to fraternize – an elderly officer came along and strafed them. When the elderly officer had departed, however, they were again seen smiling across towards our trenches.’

The Germans were clearly expecting these newspapers and Private Barnes must have been confident that he would not be shot on approaching the enemy trenches; he could not have been ordered to attempt an otherwise suicidal task. Similarly, the Germans were ready for the next round of newspapers delivered on 30 April, sending German copies in response. But why did Brigade give such an order and to what end? How were such friendly intentions transmitted to the enemy and why, after a mine explosion and a ‘very heavy’ bombardment, were newspapers sent across at all?

There appeared to be an ‘understanding’ of sorts around Souchez at that time. Throughout March, the Germans were observed undertaking trench repairs and building. A close watch had been kept and information logged and passed up the chain of command. ‘The Germans can be plainly seen . . . it looks as though a man is pumping or working an air bellows . . . Germans have been seen carrying timber . . . At 6.45 p.m. a peculiar clanging noise – lasting for about ten minutes – was heard.’ The enemy’s uniforms were noted: ‘(1) Cap with black band and red piping – figure 9 on shoulder strap. (2) Cap with grey band and red piping – figure 76 on shoulder strap.’ These observations were not exceptional; they were carried on up and down the line. What was unusual was that there was never any effort to interrupt activities.

Throughout March when the 1st Royal Berkshire Regiment was in the line, the enemy felt confident enough to appear in full view of British trenches, and, at dusk and dawn, Germans had ‘endeavoured to open friendly conversation’, wrote the battalion’s Adjutant. ‘We were not in a position to alter this state of affairs,’ he wrote on 11 March. A week later, the same conditions prevailed.

The inability to respond to such carelessness was due to the wretched state of the British parapet and the fact that both German and British trenches could be subjected to enfilade fire, so, the Adjutant continued, it had been ‘essential to remain quiet also’. In other words, there appeared to be a mutually agreed stand-off, even though the War Diary continues to record occasional spats.

Had a lull, born out of the inclement conditions, grown into something more interesting and reciprocal? Had officers as high as the Divisional Commander sanctioned the ‘truce’? Something was deemed to be of sufficient mutual appeal to permit the trading of newspapers. There was always curiosity in seeing how the enemy’s press reported the war, but surely there were easier ways to gain access to enemy newspapers than to risk an exchange across no-man’s-land? It is possible that depositing British newspapers in enemy trenches was intended to counter the one-sided view of the war given by the German press to its own soldiers. That might explain British motivation, but not the active German cooperation and not the cordiality between the men of the Royal Berkshire Regiment and the enemy opposite them, the precise reason for which remains opaque.

There was propaganda value in leaving newspapers for the enemy’s discomfort. On 9–10 July 1916, parties from the 8th Royal Dublin Fusiliers and 7th Royal Irish Rifles crossed over to leave newspapers in or close to the enemy’s trench. The Royal Irish Rifles were first given the task of examining the enemy’s wire and then of placing the ‘latest war news in German and an English [news]paper on the enemy’s wire for his information’. Nearby, a party of Royal Dublin Fusiliers took three newspapers ‘including
The Times
with Sir John Jellicoe’s Despatch’, which was left in the enemy’s trench with an empty bottle of whisky, while more men from the same battalion delivered ‘war news attached to a de-detonated grenade’.