It was agreed upon the firing line that there should be no shooting and no thought of war on Christmas day. So, we sang songs and told to each other stories of our heritage and homelands. I traded an orange for a cigar with a German officer, and we also traded addresses. And after a while, I found the differences between us not to be as vast as an ocean, but merely a slight bound over a stream.
Both sides assisted in burying the dead that lay in the trenches and the field in between … hats were off all around as silence and prayer hung in the cold air around us. Later, a match of football broke out after some barbed wire was cut and cleared away. I can’t tell you which side was better, German, Brit, or Kentuckian … for we teamed up un-segregated and played as mates.
It’s now December 26th. Both sides have gotten new orders from superiors during the early morning hours. We have struck up arms and are firing at each other … deadly enemies once again. Strange it all now seems, for I have no reason for the address of my new German friend. For I shot him in the chest this morning, as he peeled an orange.
Excerpt from the diary of WilliamPercy, 1917 (Kentucky Rifle Brigade)
Submitted by Eric Sharp, of Louisville