On Christmas day in 1914 an unofficial truce occurred between German and French soldiers fighting on the Western front in France. For one day they set aside hostilities and shared Christmas, bound by the common ties of Western culture and humanity that held them together.
This story is often trotted out as a heartwarming and sentimental tale of which displays the true meaning of Christmas. The more I think about, the less I agree with this sentiment. To me this is one of the most barbaric war stories imaginable. If the differences between French and German soldiers were so small that they could be overcome merely by observing a universal holiday were they worth the thousands upon thousands of soldier who gave their lives for those differences? Failing to kill and dismember your fellow human beings on one day out of three hundred and sixty-five is hardly a triumph of humanity.
Fast forward to November of 1918. On the 11th hour, of the 11th day of the 11th month, World War I drew to a close. Earlier that day an armistice had been signed dictating that hostilities on the western front would end within six hours. By 5:20 the armistice had been signed.
The fighting would not stop until eleven.
Eleven, eleven, eleven.
Three beautiful but meaningless numbers. 2.738 soldiers died on the last day of the war. The last of them, Henry Gunther of Baltimore Maryland, was killed less than sixty seconds before the armistice took effect. There comes a time when arbitrary numbers are meaningless. An extra six hours of fighting, six hours that achieved nothing but destroyed thousands of lives, is the height of barbarity.
November 11th has now been dedicated as a day to show respect for our veterans, and on the whole these veterans deserve respect. The individuals who have fought, bled and died in the wars throughout history all have an intrinsic value as human beings. They serve an important role in our society, and we should respect them all the more for the inhuman circumstances which they have often had to endure.
I respect the lives of our veterans, because life means something.
But eleven is meaningless.
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Very cool! I always hated that story and I never understood why.
Yeah. It took me a while to realize how twisted it is.
There’s a lot of wisdom in your take on this, “dumbestblogger.”
Thank you, and thank you for your service.
You’re welcome.
The Christmas cease fire always seemed meaningless for me. You put some good words to it. I was unfamiliar with the last day stats. Good take on that too.
Thanks. I grabbed those stats from a website called wikipedia that I use occasionally.
Harsh, but true.
It’s a harsh world sometimes.
Very good points and very much agreed.
Thanks.
I think the futility of war is eventually recognised by the majority of those who serve. As Neville Chamberlain said in July 1938, “In war, whichever side may call itself the victor, there are no winners, but all are losers.”
Quite true.
A most worthwhile reflection. I had a cousin (well, my mother’s first cousin) killed on the first day of World War I, and his brother was killed on the last day of World War I.
Wow.
That eleventh hour business has always stuck in my craw.
Indeed.
wow, so sad. I never heard these stories…
Yeah. It’s a terrible piece of history.