Author's Note: This is a Christmas story from Schultz's perspective, when he was a young soldier in World War I. It is a prequel to Chapter 2 of my story "1916," giving a fully fleshed-out version of an event briefly referenced in that story. It should stand alone just fine if you haven't read that one.

ooOoo

Christmas Eve, 1914

Leutnant Fromm had started it, jumping down from the ledge where he had been looking out over No Man's Land from the Maxim gun placement in the dim light of evening. He leaned against the trench wall, pulled out and then lit a cigar from his coat pocket, one from his Kaiserliche, the gifts of tobacco that the Kaiser had sent each officer and enlisted man. In the cold air, the smoke from the cigar mixed with the vapor of his breath.

"Hartmann is still hanging on the wires," he said conversationally. Hans and the others looked away as they stamped their feet on the duckboards, trying to keep warm. Hartmann had died the last day of their previous rotation to the front, during a night patrol to investigate the British trenches when orders had come to see if a patrol could tell if the British were tunneling. The other four members of the patrol had made it back, though Dohman had been hit in the leg and had to be dragged back. He was in the hospital, and had lost the leg. No one since then had been willing to pay the likely costs to retrieve Hartmann's body. He had several other dead comrades to keep him company out there.

At least since the weather had turned icy cold, they couldn't smell him.

"There's also some Tommies from their last attack," Fromm added.

"So?" growled Maurer, ignoring Fromm's rank as he usually did. Fromm was easy going for an officer—and Maurer was too good a sniper for Fromm to discipline with any kind of severity. He was the one responsible for several of those enemy soldiers Fromm had just mentioned.

Just then Gutermuth came down the trench, from the dugout. He was a small man—well, boy was probably more accurate, since Hans was sure he had lied about his age to get into the army. Gutermuth couldn't be more than seventeen—and in Hans's private opinion was most likely sixteen. They all looked after him as the pet of the unit, a role the boy found useful and annoying by turns, depending on how grown up he was feeling. At the moment Gutermuth had a big smile on his face. "I have finished them!" he announced, holding out three carefully balanced little Tannenbaum which had arrived with the day's mail. Candles decorated them, deftly attached to the branches. "We can light them and have a proper Weinachten celebration," he added cheerfully. "Mama sent me these for us all to enjoy."

"Did she send Marzipan too?" Maurer usually had a soft spot for Gutermuth, but his sarcasm tonight suggested he was determined to share his bad mood with everyone.

"Yes, she did," Gutermuth answered defiantly. "And I know Landau has Stollen and Schultz has Lebkuchen from yesterday's mail."

Hans sighed at the thought of sharing the precious gingerbread from his sister Klara. It tasted of home, and it wouldn't have lasted him long eating it just by himself. But when Gutermuth looked at him with such faith, keeping the treat to himself was impossible. Besides, Mutti would tell him to share—although maybe he could put a little aside just for himself.

"You got a package too," Gutermuth challenged Maurer, looking up at him.

"Fine. You can add my wife's Basler Läckerli to the mix," Maurer said after a moment with a shrug.

Fromm smiled. "And I shall contribute a bit of schnapps for everyone—though not too much, for front-line soldiers on duty!"

As darkness fell, they lit the little candles on the little trees and ate their sweets, sitting on the ledge of the trench and looking up at the starry sky. Gutermuth started to sing: "O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum, / wie treu sind deine Blätter!" They all joined in, singing all the verses together.

Then, to their complete surprise, they heard the same tune but with different words echoing from the British trench to the south.

"I wonder what they're saying in their words," Gutermuth mused.

"It is similar to our song. 'Christmas Tree,'" Fromm repeated the two words carefully in English for them, "is what they call the Weihnachtsbaum. So they are singing what we mean by 'O Tannenbaum.'"

"Poor Tommies. I'll bet no one sent them a tree." Guthermuth's eyes widened. "We should share ours!" He hopped up, picking one little pine tree up.

"Young idiot! You'll get yourself picked off by a sniper!" Maurer jumped up too, as did Fromm.

"Nicht schießen!" bellowed Fromm southwards across No Man's Land as Guthermuth reached up to set the tree on the rim of the trench, carefully keeping his head below the lip. Fromm switched to words they didn't understand, shouting even louder in English: "Do not shoot! We will not shoot!" Then he added, "Merry Christmas!"

The little tree perched on the edge of the trench, its light a perfect target. They all kept crouched down.

No bullets came. Instead, a reply in English:

"We will not shoot."

Hans and the rest of them looked at Fromm expectantly.

"They say they will not fire on us."

Gutermuth smiled broadly. "Hand me up another tree." He placed one pine carefully, a few feet to the left from the first, and then the second to its right, all close enough that the golden light of the candles from each tree helped illuminate the others.

Gutermuth hopped back down, admiring his work. Fortunately, the night had little wind and the candles still burned. "One for Josef, one for Maria, and one for the Christ child," he smiled impishly. Everyone laughed. "Let's sing another carol for the English. How about 'Stille Nacht'? The night is quiet for once!"

So they began to sing the carol, and on the second verse voices on the other side joined in, with different words but the same sentiment.

And so it went for several hours, the men of both sides trading carols as the stars shone down on the trenches, till the waxing quarter moon eclipsed all but the brighter ones with its gathering light. Frost crystals fluffed the barbed wire and glittered in the moon's cold radiance, and finally—except for the watchful guards—all the men wrapped themselves in sleep.

ooOoo

Author's Note: There will be two more sections, one for Christmas Day, and a coda the day after. I haven't been writing much this year (I have a big writing project at work, and writing hasn't felt like recreation), but I have managed to finish this story, which I wrote most of last year.

The events in the story are based on research I did concerning the Christmas Truce of 1914. The small Tannenbaum, lit by candles and put on the parapets of the trenches, charmed the British on the other side of No Man's Land. In many places the opposing lines were close enough that men from both sides could, and did, sing Christmas carols to each other in their respective languages. The weather and moon are historically correct too: it was very cold and clear in France on Christmas Eve of 1914.

Language Note: German spoken by Germans to Germans is usually represented as ordinary English in plain type, though I've added in italics some actual German vocabulary for cultural flavor. I have put actual German words spoken as German in italics. Spoken English is also italicized as a sign that it is foreign to Schultz. I've tried to be consistent along these lines, but it was complicated. I hope the system makes sense to readers.

German foods and phrases:

Marzipan: a confection made of sugar or honey mixed with finely ground almonds, often molded into fancy shapes.

Stollen: a fruit bread containing dried and/or candied fruit, nuts, and spices, often covered with powdered sugar or icing sugar, commonly made and eaten for Christmas in Germany.

Lebkuchen: a sweet pastry, similar to gingerbread, popular at Christmas in Germany. Most commonly baked in round shapes, but also the source of the gingerbread house tradition.

Basler Läckerli: a hard spice cookie (or biscuit in British parlance) originating in Switzerland, made of honey, hazelnuts, almonds, candied fruit peel, and cherry brandy.

"O Tannenbaum, o Tannenbaum, / wie treu sind deine Blätter": Literally, the first lines of the carol translate thus: "O pine tree, O pine tree / How loyal are your leaves/needles" (a reference to how they stay green year round). There are several versions whose lyrics differ slightly that are commonly used in English. As best I can tell, both Tannenbaum and Weihnachtsbaum are used to refer to Christmas trees.

Nicht schießen: Do not shoot.

Stille Nacht: Silent Night. The famous carol's original lyrics were in German.