CHRISTMAS 1915

Six short months until the Somme
Upon a Christmas morn,
Nigh the village of Laventie
In a landscape pocked and torn,
Opposing forces hunkered down
In trenches scraped by hand;
Between them barely five score yards
Of ravaged No Man's Land.

The night before, the British troops
Those brave Welch Fusiliers,
Sat rapt as German voices came
To wary, wearied ears;
So it was on Christmas Eve
Men hardened by the fight,
Were softened by a Saxon choir
Singing "Silent Night".
Of equal mind, the Welch replied
And likewise they did sing
Of a cold, crisp night, of a lowly serf
Of Wenceslas, his king.

So dawned the second Christmas
Of that "war to end all wars",
Long had been the conflict
To fight a righteous cause.
Yet upon this special day
Men took a different stand,
Both sides left their trenches
And met in No Man's Land.
Food and drink were traded,
Not bullet nor grenade,
And then upon that wasted ground
A football match they played.

Half an hour, back and forth
A hundred men or more,
Such was the camaraderie
It mattered not the score.
Alas a British major
Soon brought things to an end
"We are here to kill the Hun,
Not make of him a friend."

Six short months until the Somme
Upon a Christmas morn,
Nigh the village of Laventie
In a landscape pocked and torn,
Opposing troops had set aside
The rules that govern war,
For the briefest, bravest moment
The day itself meant more.
So upon this Christmas time
As they did way back then
Let the thought that guides you be
"Goodwill to all good men".

COPYRIGHT D M PAMMENT 2009