The True Story of the 1914 Christmas Truce

The Early Days of World War I

In the early days of World War I, there was a popular saying that the conflict would be “over by Christmas.” But as December 1914 rolled around, that optimism had faded. Five months after hostilities began, a stalemate had emerged on the Western Front. A 450-mile trench network stretched from the Belgian coast to the Swiss border. Prospects of a swift victory for either side were looking increasingly unlikely, though the idea of a negotiated settlement was beginning to gain traction. 

In the lead-up to Christmas, there had been quite a few very public appeals for some kind of cease-fire. Christmas 1914 was definitely an opportunity to call a halt to things and to negotiate because we didn't seem to be getting anywhere.

Anthony Richards, Head of Documents and Sound at the Imperial War Museum in London, and the author of The True Story of the Christmas Truce

The Trenches: Warfare to Welfare

Conditions for the soldiers stuck in the trenches were appalling. Their boots sank into the waterlogged mud, rats ran amok, and food rations were poor. In addition, many were missing their families in the run-up to the holidays. To make their conditions a little less bleak, the Germans decorated their trenches (and even their U-boats) with trees.

On Christmas Eve, 1914, on a site known as Ploegstreet on the Western Front in Belgium, German soldiers broke into song. The rendition of Silent Night drifted across No Man’s Land to the British. It was heartfelt and beautiful. Just for a moment, the Tommies could almost imagine they were back home at a Christmas carol service, far away from the mud and blood of the trenches. When the song ended, the British soldiers burst into applause. Then, someone suggested responding in kind. Soon, the London Rifle Brigade were singing their hearts out, giving their best rendition of The First Noel. When the British launched into Oh Come All Ye Faithful, the Germans joined in, singing the original Latin lyrics, Adeste Fideles. The two sides serenaded each other across the expanse that separated them into the early hours of Christmas morning. 

It was amazing. But something even more astonishing was happening a mile away.

Corporal John Ferguson was serving with the Second Battalion of the Seaforth Highlanders. Peering out across No Man’s Land, he could see the Germans opposite had 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 was Christmas Eve, and no shots were fired. The Scots had been warned to expect a German attack, but the enemy seemed in no mood to fight. Suddenly, Corporal Ferguson heard a shout from the trench opposite.

‘Anglish Komrad!’ one of the German soldiers called.

‘Hello Fritz!’ Ferguson responded.

The German asked if Ferguson would like some tobacco, a Christmas gift that, given the freezing conditions on the front, was hard to refuse. Soon, a handful of Germans were climbing out of their trench, their arms raised.  

Accompanied by three of his comrades, Ferguson warily followed the light of the German’s flash lamp into the middle of No Man’s Land. It was the closest he had ever been to the enemy trenches. Out in the open, the men shook hands and wished each other a Merry Christmas. Before long, more soldiers from both sides were streaming over the top of their trenches. They gathered to chat as best they could, despite the language barrier. They smoked together, trading cigarettes and souvenirs.

Was there really a game of football?

The pause in hostilities allowed both sides certain opportunities. The British, having sustained heavy losses, spent some of the day burying their dead. One British soldier, Private Jack Reagan, ran into his London barber, a Bavarian fighting for the enemy. Before long, Jack and his pals were queuing up for a shave and haircut, unconcerned by the German blade pressed against their throats. 

But perhaps the lingering image for some is the idea that a football match took place on that stretch of land. Did it really happen, or is it just a romantic notion?

Well, yes and no. There wasn’t one official football match with a referee and proper nets. There may not even have been a ball. But it seems there were some informal kickabouts between the German and British soldiers.

It's very, very likely that there was football in the sense of kicking a rusty tin around. But, there was not this mass game organised with scores being kept that we perhaps think of now.

Catriona Pennell, Professor of Modern History and Memory Studies at the University of Exeter

Regardless, the football and camaraderie shared that day allowed the young men involved to escape from bloodshed and gunfire for a short time. In rare cases, truces extended for days or even weeks—some carried on into the new year. For most soldiers on the Western Front, however, by Boxing Day, normality had returned. To British and German military leaders, the Christmas truce of 1914 was an embarrassment—an aberration that must never happen again. In 1915, aerial bombardments were organised to drown out the sound of carol singing. However, in the years that followed the Armistice of 1918, its legacy changed. The Christmas Truce became something to be celebrated and cherished, an emblem of the shared humanity that links even the bitterest enemies.