Short History Of... - The Christmas Truce

Episode Date: December 13, 2021

It’s Christmas eve, 1914. On the Western Front, a British soldier peers out across No Man’s Land. A sound catches his attention – not artillery fire, but music. The enemy are singing Silent Night. The Christmas Truce of 1914 remains a unique historical anomaly. But how did these sworn enemies set down their weapons and meet as friends? What does the truce reveal about the First World War? This is a Short History of the Christmas Truce. Written by Duncan Barrett. With thanks to Anthony Richards, Head of Documents and Sound and the Imperial War Museum, and author of The True Story of the Christmas Truce: British and German Eyewitness Accounts from World War I, and Catriona Pennell, Professor of Modern History and Memory Studies at the University of Exeter. For ad-free listening, exclusive content and early access to new episodes, join Noiser+. Now available for Apple and Android users. Click the Noiser+ banner on Apple or go to noiser.com/subscriptions to get started with a 7-day free trial. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

It's Christmas Eve, 1914. With midnight approaching on the Western Front, Rifleman Graham Williams is standing too on the firestep of his trench. He looks out across no man's land for any sign of a German attack. It's been one of the worst winters in living memory, but tonight is crisp and dry. The rare break in the relentless rain has given the men some hope. If the ankle-deep mud has a chance to dry up, maybe their feet can too. But that's not

enough to put Rifleman Williams in a festive mood. He's still reeling from this last-minute posting to relieve the Somerset Light infantry. Yesterday his unit, the London Rifle Brigade, were looking forward to a slap-up Christmas dinner at an estaminet in the Belgian town of Plogstiet. Now they are on the front line instead. And to make matters worse, within hours of arriving in their trench, one of their friends was shot dead by a German sniper. Little does this soldier know that he is about to witness one of the most extraordinary moments

of the First World War. At first he can hardly make it out. He squints into the gloom, straining to hear. After a moment he is sure. The faint sound of singing is drifting across no man's land. Deep basses and tenors mingled with the higher voices of the younger recruits, still in their teens. The German words are unfamiliar, but the tune is unmistakable. The enemy are singing Silent Night.

Astonished, William shakes his dozing comrades. Soon a large crowd is gathered. Their breath mists in front of them and they rub warmth into their hands as they listen and chant it. It's heartfelt, beautiful. Just for a moment, the Tommies can almost imagine they're back home at a Christmas carol service, far away from the mud and blood of the trenches. At this moment the Tommies can almost imagine they're back home at a Christmas carol service,

far away from the mud and blood of the trenches. When the song comes to an end, the British soldiers burst into applause. Then someone suggests they ought to respond in kind. Soon the London Rifle Brigade are singing their hearts out, giving their best rendition of the first Noel. Into the early hours of Christmas morning, the two sides serenade each other across the expanse that separates them. When the British launch into O Come All Ye Faithful, the Germans join in too, singing

the original Latin lyrics, Adeste Fidelis. When the duet is over, the men on both sides wish each other a Merry Christmas, and then normal sentry duty resumes. But elsewhere along the Western Front, something even more astonishing is happening. A mile or so up the line, Corporal John Ferguson is serving with the 2nd Battalion of the Seaforth Highlanders. Peering out across no man's land, he can see the Germans opposite have begun decorating their trench in readiness for the big day. The bright Chinese lanterns cast a warm glow over their position, putting them at risk of British sniping. But it's Christmas Eve, and no shots are fired.

The Scots have been warned to expect a German attack, but the enemy seem in no mood to fight. Suddenly Corporal Ferguson hears a shout from the trench opposite. English comrade, one of the German soldiers calls. Hello Fritz, Ferguson responds. The German asks if Ferguson would like some tobacco, a Christmas gift which, given the freezing conditions on the front, is hard to refuse. Soon a handful of Germans are climbing out of their trench, their arms raised in the

air. Accompanied by three of his comrades, Ferguson warily follows the light of the Germans' flashlight into the middle of no man's land. It's the closest he's ever been to the enemy trenches. Out in the open, the men shake hands and wish each other a Merry Christmas. Before long, more soldiers from both sides are streaming over the top of their trenches. They gather to chat as best they can despite the language barrier. They smoke together, trading cigarettes and souvenir. Ferguson and his German counterpart swap stories.

He learns that the German had been living in Edinburgh until the war started earlier that year. Perhaps the two of them have more in common than they might have imagined. It's the start of one of the most remarkable events of the war. A spontaneous truce between bitter enemies. More than a hundred years on, the Christmas truce of 1914 remains a unique historical anomaly. It wasn't planned, and it wasn't consistent. The truces that took place along the Western Front that December were as varied as the men who took part in them. In some areas, the fighting continued unabated.

But for many soldiers stationed at the front, Christmas 1914 would prove to be the most extraordinary few days of their lives. And in the years that followed, that brief flash of camaraderie would become one of the defining moments of the First World War. How did it come to pass that these men, supposedly sworn enemies, chose to set down their weapons and meet as friends? And coming only months into a conflict that would rumble on for years, how did those short moments of shared humanity affect the soldiers trained to fight each other? What does the truce really reveal about the First World War?

What does the truce really reveal about the First World War? I'm Paul McGann, and this is a short history of the Christmas Truce. By December 1914, the hope that the war might be over by Christmas has worn thin. Five months since hostilities began, a stalemate has emerged on the Western Front. A 450-mile trench network stretches from the Belgian coast all the way down to the Swiss border. Prospects of a swift victory for either side are looking increasingly unlikely.

The idea of a negotiated settlement is beginning to gain traction. Anthony Richards is the head of documents and sound at the Imperial War Museum in London, and the author of The True Story of the Christmas Truce. In the lead up to Christmas, there's certainly been quite a few very public appeals for some kind of ceasefire at the very least. A large number of suffragettes had submitted a public letter addressed to the women of Germany calling for this. The Pope also had made a very vocal appeal for peace over the Christmas period so that both sides could maybe start negotiations. So Christmas 1914, I think in the minds of many people, was definitely an opportunity

to maybe call a halt to things and say, hang on a minute, here's an opportunity to negotiate because we don't seem to be getting anywhere here. For the men in the trenches on both sides, year. For the men in the trenches on both sides, conditions are grim. So they were both, you know, in muddy holes in the ground. They would have had pretty poor food. They would have been experiencing the miserable winter of 1914. I think they'd had a bit of snow by then, but certainly frost, a lot of wind and rain. Because it was approaching the end of the year, it was Christmas time. And it was the time when, you know, people usually spend time with their families, their loved ones. They wouldn't have been able to.

So they would have been sitting there feeling pretty miserable. And it was that kind of shared experience of living in those conditions that ultimately encouraged them to arrange a ceasefire really and Christmas was the opportunity for them to do that. Katrina Pennell, Professor of Modern History and Memory Studies at the University of Exeter, argues that the soldiers on both sides saw the truce as a kind of unofficial Christmas holiday rather than any meaningful move towards peace. The men that were fighting in December 1914, January 1915, were the last remnants of the British professional army.

This was the army that were professional soldiers before the war, that were sent over immediately as soon as war broke out. And it's before the famous volunteers, sent over immediately as soon as war broke out. And it's before the famous volunteers, Kitchener's army, the new armies reached the Western Front. So there's this sense amongst the professional army of doing their job, but that's all it is. And if we think about this in the context of sort of British trade unionism, they're entitled to downtime, they're entitled to a break. So when you have the holiday season coming along and you're receiving packages there's I think a strong sense amongst these men of Christmas 1914 to say

well actually we need a break, it's time off, it's downtime, it's tools down we're going to have a break, we're going to raise a glass of whiskey or whatever and we're going to have a nice time. For the German troops especially, marking the Christmas period in traditional ways is a high priority. The Germans in particular put up Christmas trees in their trenches and decorated them with lights and candles and things like this. A very odd but interesting fact is that Christmas was treated with such importance by Germany that every unit was sent its own Christmas tree.

Even, and I think this is hilarious, even U-boats were given their own Christmas tree, which was probably a fire hazard if you decorated it properly. When people think of the Western Front, they often think of this sort of desolate wasteland. But because this was so early on, a lot of the woods were still there. There were lots of trees around and soldiers would use those to decorate the trenches and they might find leaves and ivy. It probably says something about soldiers in any era that they'll try to kind of use whatever they can to cheer themselves up a bit and to put a brave face on things.

But the Germans were definitely the ones who bled the way in that because it was such a strong German tradition. I think it's worth bearing in mind that this is a period of time where the Victorian, romantic, sentimental Charles Dickens idea of Christmas is very prevalent. And troops on both sides are beginning to receive packages from home. People on the home fronts, whether in Germany or in Britain, France, Belgium, are being encouraged to send their troops packages to show them that they're being thought about, that they're cared about, that the Christmas season is not forgotten despite the horrors of war. It was kind of like the unique opportunity when all these thoughts about home and peace to all men and the seasonal feelings of Christmas, they all came to fruition at that exact moment.

of Christmas. They all came to fruition at that exact moment. Whatever the motivation, it's the Germans who make the first move. After all, they are the invaders, so it's up to them to suggest a ceasefire. One account of what happened comes from Private Leslie Walkington of the Queen's Westminster Rifles, based near Chapelle d'Armentier in northern France. In an interview recorded by the Imperial War Museum in 1985, he recalls how he spent his Christmas Eve exchanging songs and banter with the enemy, 300 yards across no man's land. We'd been singing carols and this, that and the other

and the Germans had been doing the same and we'd been shouting to each other sometimes rude remarks, more often just joking remarks Anyway, eventually a German said, tomorrow you no shoot, we no shoot. When Christmas morning dawns a few hours later, a light dusting of frost blankets no man's land. And, much to the British soldier's surprise, the Germans prove as good as their word. The morning came and we didn't shoot and they didn't shoot. And so then we began to pop our heads over the side and jump down quickly in case they shot but they didn't shoot. And after a time, some bold people walked out in front of the barbed wire and finally

an Englishman and a German met halfway across No Man's Land and they shook hands and laughed and joked and waved to their companions to come out and join them and we streaked out people from both sides streaming out and we met in No Man's Land and we spent the day there and we swapped cigarettes and we gave them rum and they gave us cognac and so on and we exchanged odd little bits of food, just like a lot of boys from neighbouring schools. Along the Western Front, though, experiences vary.

What we do know is that there was no single truce, OK? There was no single uniform, universal truce where all British soldiers and all German soldiers on their sectors of the Western Front got out, shook hands and had a game of football. That didn't happen. What did happen was a series of discrete truces that happened at various points across the Western Front where there were British and German sectors. There were some truces in the French and Belgian sectors, but these were much less common, probably because when you're French and you're Belgian, you're literally defending your land against a German invading enemy. So if you look at the personal testimony in letters and diaries and oral history and things like that, all these soldiers were stationed in

roughly the same area of Flanders, but they all had very different and individual experiences. And I think that's largely because of the nature of trench warfare and the nature of the terrain as well, that one soldier might experience quite a lot of fraternisation, but only a few hundred yards away, another soldier might have thought it was business as normal and they would have just been firing on each other. For the officers in charge of both sides, a truce might offer practical benefits that go beyond its sentimental value. The chance to get a strategic glimpse at the enemy's positions. An opportunity to drain and shore up your own sodden trenches, and, not least, a much-needed pause to bury the dead. Out in no-man's land, dead soldiers from both sides lie rotting.

Unburied corpses not only pose risks to the physical health of the living, but they're also disastrous for morale. There's a significant offensive on the 18th of December where a large number of British soldiers are killed by artillery fire. And so there's lots of dead and wounded caught in no man's land between the British and German trenches. So that is really significant in terms of what happens next. The truce is far more

about the practicalities of clearing the dead than it is about any notion of wanting to make friends with the enemy early on christmas morning the adjutant of the second battalion scott's guards stationed in the padacale region sees an opportunity witnessing his comrades from a neighboring british trench burying their dead out in no man's land he approaches the germans opposite his own trench and begs their permission to do the same the request is granted and word of the adjutant's plan soon spreads among the men. It might be a holiday back home, but the British soldiers don't complain. They can rest later. Now there's work to be done.

Earlier that week, the battalion saw heavy losses. The memory of their friends going over the top remains fresh. Seeing those same men's lifeless bodies, many of them torn to pieces by high-explosive bullets, comes as a shock. But with both sides having agreed not to fire, at least they can give them a proper burial. While some men start gathering their dead,

others bring out the spades they used to excavate the trenches only months before and get digging in the hard, frozen earth. Others bring out the spades they used to excavate the trenches only months before, and get digging in the hard, frozen earth. Before long, the Germans too are lending a hand. Quietly, respectfully, they lift up the bodies of fallen soldiers on their side of no man's land. They then carry them to the halfway line, where the British take over, lowering them into the freezing graves.

On either side, men line up to pay their respects. The German and British chaplains take turns reading prayers. After the ceremony, one of the Germans approaches the adjutant with an unusual problem. It's about his girlfriend in Suffolk, England. He's been unable to make contact since the war began. From inside his uniform, he brings out a letter. Could he possibly get it to her? It's far from the only wish granted that Christmas Day.

A few miles away, near Armentier, Private Jack Reagan of the Rifle Brigade is astonished to run into his old barber from London, now serving with the Bavarian Reserve Regiment. Before long, Jack and his pals are queuing up for a shave and a haircut, unconcerned by the German blade pressed against their throats. But not everyone is quite so trusting. Ernie Williams is a 19-year-old volunteer serving with the Cheshire Regiment near Messines. When news of the unexpected truths reaches him, he nervously follows his fellow soldiers into no-man's land, but he's terrified by the sight of the bearded Bavarians from the

enemy trench. Although he accepts a gift of cigarettes from one of their number he's determined never to smoke them After all, he's read the accounts of German atrocities in the British papers He wouldn't put it past them to lace the tobacco with poison Indeed, despite the general atmosphere of goodwill there are flashes of tension between the two sides Another 19-year-old, Henry Williamson, who would later go on to literary fame

as the author of Tarka the Otter, is a volunteer territorial soldier serving with the London Rifle Brigade. Taking part in a joint burial service in no-man's land, he's surprised to see the Germans inscribing little wooden crosses with the words

Für Vaterland und Freiheit For fatherland and Freedom How can you be fighting for freedom? He asks one of the Germans. You started the war. We are fighting for freedom. But the German refuses to be drawn into an argument. He doesn't want to quarrel on Christmas Day.

They may not be fighting, but the rivalry between the two sides does need somewhere to go. And what better outlet for tribal loyalty than an impromptu game of football? But it's here that we have to tread most carefully if we're going to stop myth and fiction getting in the way of the reality of the Christmas truce. we're going to stop myth and fiction getting in the way of the reality of the Christmas truce. So one of the most often remembered moments of the Christmas truce is the alleged football match, which a lot of people still believe happened and that it was kind of an organised match between England and Germany. There's different accounts of who won, but usually people say the Germans won. I think it's 3-2 or something like this. But going back to the original evidence,

the historical evidence, there is very little, if any, evidence to show that any kind of organised match ever occurred. It tended to be just locally organised kickabouts rather than a proper organised match with a referee and this sort of thing. There's a really great letter which I found where this British soldier describes being involved in a football match. And he likens it to when he used to play football as a kid, just kicking a football around in the streets. There was no referee and no one was really bothered about keeping score or anything like that. You have to remember that all the soldiers involved had been living in trenches for weeks

and months beforehand. And being in a trench all day, being scared to put your head above the parapet, you were living in darkness, you'd see a bit of sky above you. But what the truce gave you is the opportunity to be out in the open and the chance to run, which you would never have, and to stroll about wherever you wanted. And that was the appeal of it for many. The football match has become an iconic part of this story, but really it's probably one of the weakest elements in terms of historical fact. I mean, I think we have to

break down what we understand by a football match. Are we talking about nets and lines being drawn and referees and the offside rule? Or are we talking about literally a bunch of blokes getting something, whether it's a football or whether it's a tin can, and kicking it around for a bit? So it's very, very likely that there was football in the sense of kicking a rusty tin around. But no, there was not this mass game, organised, offside rule, etc. Scores being kept that we perhaps think of now. That is something that came about very much in the post-war period and was really cemented in the centenary period with the likes of the FIFA Association and the various memorials and football matches and things that were played during the centenary period.

various memorials and football matches and things that were played during the centenary period. Across the Western Front, some truces last longer than others, but eventually all must come to an end. Typically, it's dusk on Christmas Day that signals a return to the status quo. The Queen's Westminster Rifles take the opportunity to demonstrate their impeccable discipline to the Germans As the light begins to fade, one of their officers blows a whistle As one, the men out in no man's land turn and walk slowly back to their trenches Elsewhere along the line, the moment is marked with salutes, handshakes and even ceremonial gunfire The moment is marked with salutes, handshakes and even ceremonial gunfire. But in some places, the brief period of peace ends more chaotically, with tragic results.

There were definitely moments when something happened which did ruin the whole thing. Sometimes it was a complete accident. There's one instance where there was a misunderstanding of some kind and a soldier started running back to his trench and the Germans shot him in the back. And then the British started firing as well. So it all sort of descended into chaos. But the only fair thing to say, I think, is that there doesn't appear to have been any instance where one side deliberately used the opportunity to attack the other. It tended to be accidents and misunderstandings. In rare cases, truces extend for days or even weeks. Some carry on into the new year. For most soldiers on the Western Front, however, by Boxing Day, normality has returned.

In many parts of the British front line, December the 26th is when relief units arrive to take over. The new men are not always keen to pick up where their predecessors left off. But even in places where the truce is held for longer, there is little resistance to letting go of their brief moment of peace. Ultimately, the men know they have a job to do. I think we have to be careful about how we describe the Christmas truce. This is within the context of a professional army who understand their rights as labourers, who understand the significance of Christmas. rights as labourers, who understand the significance of Christmas. So this sense of taking a well-deserved break after the exhaustion of fighting. There are dead bodies that need clearing. Most truces that have happened in military history happen because of the need

to clear the dead, to give them a respectful burial, but perhaps more importantly, to deal with any issues of spread of disease. So all of these things come together at a point where it's natural to take a holiday. A holiday happens and just like you and I will go back to work in January without going on strike and saying, actually, well, I'm never going back to work ever again. We go back to work because that's what you do. The holiday comes to an end and you go back to work. And that's exactly what happened. They're back to their jobs and their jobs are to kill and to fight and to defend. OK, they'd had this sort of momentary respite of meeting some nice bloke from the other side. But that doesn't detract from the fact that in their understanding of the war,

Germany had invaded two other countries that were allies with Britain. And that was fundamentally wrong. And that this was a war that had to be either won or lost. Business as usual resumes for the troops on the front lines. But on the home front, news of the truce is just beginning to trickle through. What tended to happen is that soldiers would write private letters home to their families. to happen is that soldiers would write private letters home to their families and then the local newspapers would somehow get hold of these and publish them. Shortly after Christmas, the first letters began to be published where soldiers basically described what had happened, that they'd

gone out and met the Germans and shaken hands and this sort of thing. And there was a short period of a few days where a lot of people just didn't believe it. And it was only really when the first photographs were published of the enemies standing together in no man's land. That's when suddenly people thought, oh, hang on, this is actually happening. that's when suddenly people thought, oh, hang on, this is actually happening. And then, because in some cases the ceasefires were still happening at this time, the authorities had to step in and make sure that this was all stopped very, very quickly. It may seem extraordinary that military leaders in the field should find out what's happening in their own front lines from newspapers published back in England. But thanks to both the lack of uniformity between the truces and the festive laissez-faire attitude, the true scale of the phenomenon

isn't appreciated until it's too late. You have to remember that there was still this problem with communication in terms of what was happening in the front line would not necessarily be known straight away back at the headquarters. So it was really only right at the end of the truth, at the end of Christmas Day and Boxing Day, that people suddenly started realizing what was happening, what was going on. And some reports were definitely being received by the higher-ups. But again, I'm not sure they took them hugely seriously, because it does sound slightly ridiculous that your troops are out there making friends with their enemies. And I think one of the

key factors is that it all happened at Christmas. And at Christmas, there is often this implicit understanding that people are allowed to let off steam and enjoy their Christmas as best they can and not be too strict about quite what they're doing. So I don't think there was really an understanding of how serious it had got in some places. The top brass might have been caught off guard in 1914, but they are determined that it won't happen again. In subsequent years, strict instructions are issued to avoid fraternisation with the enemy. Artillery barrages are organised to drown out the sound of any carols drifting across no man's land. On Christmas Eve 1915, the post office rifles arrived in a notorious section of trench south of Lille known as the Hohenzollern Redoubt. It's a particularly nasty part of the front line, where the two sides are only 40 yards

apart, barely more than the length of three London tram cars back home. The men in the trenches can hear each other coughing through the night. Captain Eric Gore Brown has received a stern memorandum from his superiors at the headquarters of the 47th London Division. It reads, The General Officer Commanding directs me to remind you of the unauthorised truce which occurred on Christmas Day at one or two places in the line last year, and to impress upon you that nothing of the kind is to be allowed on the divisional front this year." As if the message isn't clear enough, an addendum has been scrawled

by hand. Any man attempting to communicate either by signal or word of mouth, or by any other means, is to be seriously punished. All snipers and machine guns are to be in readiness to fire on any German showing above the parapet. Despite this injunction, the post office rifles, many of them former postmen and messenger boys in civilian life, are given a distinctly unusual Christmas mission. They must deliver a stash of letters to the Bavarians in the trenches opposite, written by their compatriots who are now languishing behind the lines in British prisoner of war camps. The Germans, though, have also been given strict orders

to avoid any festive fraternisation. Testing the waters, the post office rifles hang a sign on the butt of a rifle reading Do You Speak English? Cautiously, they nudge it up above their parapet. It's shot to pieces within seconds. Clearly a delivery round across no man's land is out of the question. For the British soldiers, though, their professional honour is at stake, not just in the eyes of the army, but the post office too.

Fortunately, one of the men, Bill Gibbs, is a talented amateur cricketer. By attaching the letters to some inedible French carrots he finds in the cookhouse, he is able to bowl them across no man's land, right into the German trench. The Christmas post arrives bang on time, and with no need for the warring sides to actually meet. To military leaders, both British and German, the Christmas Truce of 1914 is an embarrassment, an aberration in the conduct of the war that must never happen again. But in the years that follow the armistice

of 1918, its legacy changes. It becomes something to be celebrated and cherished, an emblem of the shared humanity that links even the bitterest enemies. an emblem of the shared humanity that links even the bitterest enemies. I think the Christmas trees has become part of what I always called the shorthand of the First World War, in that when people think of the First World War, largely they will think of mud, war poets, poppies. they might think of something like the Battle of the Somme. And they will probably think at some point of the Christmas Truce and this image of soldiers shaking hands in no man's land and playing football. To some historians, though, this sentimental view of the truce risks distorting its meaning.

I think the Christmas truce has become and remains so central in popular imagination, particularly in this country, because it helps us to feel a bit better about our violent past. In the midst of a war that lasted four and a half years that resulted in millions of casualties worldwide here we have a small but significant moment where allegedly enemies came together and laid down arms and were friends and that for me i think really very, very problematic because we are literally taking 24 hours out of a four and a half year war that was incredibly destructive, incredibly violent, incredibly disturbing in the ways that it unfolded. And yet we cling on to the snippets of evidence that we have that for a short time enemies came together and acted like friends.

For me it's a distortion, it's a concerning distortion of what is actually the historical record. Fascination with the Christmas truce grows in the decades that follow it, but for some that tells us more about the changing attitudes to war than it does about the reality of the Western Front in 1914. The Christmas Truce continues as a story amongst veterans in the 1920s and 30s, but tends to be confined to their khaki circles. Really, the moment where things began to shift and the Christmas Truce takes on a life of its own is at the 50th anniversary in the 1960s. And that's when you start to see these stories of the Christmas Truce beginning to take hold in a way that is really quite different to the historical reality. The context of the 1960s is, you know, you've got wars raging in places like Vietnam. You've got the threat of a nuclear winter.

So picking up on a story of human connectedness and human kindness in conflict suddenly takes on a much greater degree of significance and potency. and potency. By the early 21st century, with commemorations marking the centenary of the Great War, the Christmas truce has become a touchstone to memorialise the conflict. It's the subject

of a children's book by poet laureate Carol Ann Duffy. It even plays out on primetime TV in a Doctor Who Christmas special. More controversially, it forms the backdrop for a three-minute commercial for the British supermarket giant Sainsbury's

called Christmas is for Sharing. When I talk to my students about the Sainsbury's Christmas advert from 2014, I say to them, how would you feel if another moment of the violent past that we are very familiar with, it was taken and used as the basis to advertise a major

supermarket? In other words, what if a moment was taken from the Holocaust and used to promote the selling of Christmas turkeys? For me, that's really where the heart of the problem lies with the Christmas Truce advert, is that it has taken a 24-hour period of questionable historical accuracy and turned it into something to sell turkeys and chocolate bars and Christmas puddings. At the end of the day, the First World War was a four and a half year war of absolute bloody violent destruction. It was not cosy and romantic and friendly and lovely. It was horrific. And as human beings, I think we need to spend a little bit more time focusing on the inhumanity that we can cause to one another rather than trying to shy away from it

and wrap it up in cotton wool and a Christmas ribbon and say, look, aren't we all lovely and cosy and happy with each other? Because fundamentally, we're not. We still go to war, we still cause destruction, and we need to own that. We need to take responsibility for that. Over the past hundred years, our perception of the First World War has shifted with the

times. The Christmas truce has become, ironically, the perfect football for historians to fight over, interrogating and contesting its meaning as a small but significant moment in the overall story of the war. For some

of them, though, it's precisely the anomalous nature of the truce that makes it so fascinating and so enduring. It is interesting that it's remembered, you know, even though in military terms it was inconsequential, people still think of it as a kind of an iconic moment. I think it's a wonderful thing because I can't think of another incident really in any war which is all about peace and friendship rather than trying to brutally kill someone else. And there's something amazingly refreshing about that. Special thanks to the Imperial War Museum for providing the private Leslie Walkington interview.

Thanks also to Florian and Moritz Heupel and to Jonas, Moritz and Karsten Fleur for singing the soldiers' carols for this episode. Moritz and Karsten Fleur for singing the soldiers' carols for this episode. Next time on Short History Of, we'll bring you a short history of Ernest Shackleton. You know, they all take chances. They all take risks. They all make bad decisions. They know less about Antarctica

than they know about the moon. Nothing is known about this. They take enormous risks all the time, and Shackleton takes a risk, but he is going to end up giving us one of the great exploration stories of all time. That's next time on Short History Of.