I asked him how he was. "Fatal," he told me. "I wish I could be back in Germany." He gave me six cigarettes and a little chocolate. We say hello Joking, I asked him if they wanted to play a football game with us. It was cold. The Germans had decorated their trenches with arrangements.
They lit candles at night, sang Christmas carols, Christmas paraphernalia. It was Christmas Eve. They were told that the war was going to last a few weeks, but soon it stagnated on the western front. English entrenched on the one hand, on the border of Belgium with France, Germans on the other, a few meters. In the middle, the no man's land: soldiers' bodies, barbed wire, artillery and rifles in sight.
They had been fighting for 4 months, vindicating the causes of others, generals and leaders who believed that the only way to honor the country is war. But at Christmas 1914, according to historians, there was a pause on both sides to rethink things, a half time.
The Germans sang Christmas carols and the English responded in the same tone. They say that the soldiers dared to leave their trenches. They exchanged greetings and gifts, food, which was scarce in those conditions. They agreed on a 24-hour truce, the Christmas truce. Then a Brit took out a ball. With helmets they delimited two goals. No referee was necessary.
English against Germans: soccer calls. As dictated by the canons, won the usual, and although it is said that a goal was marked out of place, everyone was happy to have been able to kick a ball once again, which is unlikely given the circumstances. In the middle of the war, at Christmas 104 years ago, football was a bridge. As it still is for many of us too. Well, I say goodbye, hoping you enjoyed reading.
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