“It was Christmas Day and the ceasefire held. With the sun fully up, Germans suddenly appeared in No Man’s Land.”
By Brendan Farrell
MY GRANDFATHER, Peter Farrell of Drumconrath, County Meath, like many thousands of Irishmen joined the British army and would go on to fight in the Great War.
Despite being offered a scholarship, Peter chose a life of adventure and signed up. He had completed a four-year tour of duty with the 2nd Battalion Leinsters in India when the regiment returned to County Cork in Ireland. He would become a regimental piper.
The 2nd battalion was described by the battalion captain, Francis Hitchcock, as a fine body of men. They were physically impressive with an average height of five foot, 10 inches. When considering that the average British Tommy was about five foot, five inches they must have seemed like giants.
The regiment was under canvas in Moore Park, Fermoy in the summer of 1914, when news arrived of the outbreak of war. The 2nd Leinsters were soon on the Western Front.
On Nov. 18, 1914, the battalion relieved the Royal Warwickshire Regiment in the trenches north-east of Armentieres. The 2nd Leinsters would hold the line through the end of the year.
The distance from the German lines varied on average between 200 and 500 yards, which was occupied by elements of the XIX Saxon Corps. In some spots only 30 to 70 yards separated the combatants.
Life in the trenches was a far cry from the battalion’s previous billet: a lunatic asylum in Armentieres, which despite its off-putting peacetime role, was dry, clean and quite comfortable, complete with kitchens and baths.
The battalion immediately set to work on the seemingly Sisyphean task of trench maintenance.
“The conditions … were of extreme misery,” wrote Peter. “Parts of the trenches were continuously under water. The unceasing labour of trying to keep the trenches from falling in had begun to tell on the ranks. There was the never ceasing sniping on the part of the enemy while the venomous condition of the men was sapping their health.”
In view of the sheer proximity of the opposing forces, and the squalid conditions both sides were forced to endure, it came as no surprise that a practical level of fraternization would evolve.
Like elsewhere on the Western front in late 1914, a sort of “live and let live” philosophy eventually developed, where comparatively gentlemanly codes of conduct were established. Burial details under flags of truce were often permitted to recover fallen comrades and firing often stopped at meal times.
On Dec. 7, the recently appointed Pope Benedict XV appealed for a Christmas truce; his entreaties were ignored by the high command on both sides. Yet at the front, things would be different.
On Christmas Eve, Leinsters manning the line watched as the enemy began hoisting Chinese lanterns on the parapets of their trenches. Although British sentries had promptly shot them to pieces, the Germans shouted over asking for a cease fire.
The battalion’s officers emerged from their shelters and could clearly hear calls in fluent English from the German line: “Play the Game! Play the Game! If you don’t shoot. We won’t shoot!”
The 2nd Leinsters obliged, with commanders telling troops to hold their fire unless the enemy was seen advancing.
The night was reported as being “uncannily quiet” with the Leinsters making use of the calm to carry out trench maintenance.
Following the customary ‘stand-to’ at dawn, where soldiers in the line manned the firing steps in case of enemy attack, the soldiers resumed their duties repairing the trenches.
It was Christmas Day and the ceasefire held. With the sun fully up, Germans suddenly appeared in No Man’s Land. Carrying only shovels, they began to gather the bodies of their fallen comrades. The battalion held its fire; some Leinsters joined them to collect the British dead.
Soon the two work parties, as many as 30 men in all, converged and were facing each other offering holiday greetings and exchanging souvenirs: buttons, badges and coins. Others swapped plum puddings, tobacco or chocolate for a swig of cognac. Several Germans spoke English, having worked in London before the war. Some were convinced that Ireland was at war with Britain.
By midday, both parties were back in their own trenches. At 1 p.m., the 2nd Leinsters enjoyed a peaceful Christmas lunch.
Similar incidents were reported along the front. Some cease fires lasted into the New Year. The Leinsters were reportedly one of the last to resume hostilities.
Details of the fraternizations were not well-received by the army brass.
British commanders issued orders banning any further friendly contact with the enemy. “In the future, every infraction … will be punished as treason.”
The press took a less hostile view. News of the incidents prompted headlines like: “CHRISTMAS TRUCE AT FRONT” in the Daily Mail, accompanied by photographs showing what appeared to be British and German troops gathering. Coverage was mostly positive.
It’s believed that as many as 100,000 British and German soldiers participated in impromptu Christmas ceasefires in 1914. Such widespread friendliness would not be repeated in 1915.
My Grandfather would see another two Christmases at the front, despite receiving a serious head wound at St Eloi on Nov. 5, 1915. He survived and returned to duty.
The Leinsters continued to fight right up to the 1918 Armistice.
On Nov. 10, while advancing on the town of Arc-Ainieres in Belgium, a brigadier would gallop up to the soldiers of the battalion and announce, with uncharacteristic emotion, news of the German Kaiser’s abdication.
“The war is over!” he declared, albeit prematurely.
According to Captain Hitchcock, moments later a German shell burst some 300 yards away.
“[It was] the last shot the battalion saw fired in anger in the war,” he later wrote. 24 hours later, all the guns along the Western Front would fall silent.
Upon returning to County Meath, my grandfather would marry and pursue his love of teaching music.
He’d see war again when conflict swept Ireland in 1922. His work training the members of the Irish Republican Army would lead to the forfeiture of his army pension and very bleak times ahead for a rural family in Ireland between the wars.
He died in 1969 at the age of 78.
Hitchcock would go on to author Stand To: A Diary of the Trenches 1915-1918.
Brendan Farrell is a writer based in County Wicklow, Ireland. When not writing about history, he owns and operates Turin Castle in County Mayo. You can follow him on Instagram @brendanjosephfarrell and on twitter @brendanjfarrell.
