Great Expectations

My expectations of college before I actually got here was that it is cold and institutionalized. I also had the eerie expectation that during the transition to college I would feel alone and like a stranger among new faces and new buildings. The expectation that I had of the work program was a negative one due to a previously bad experience as a computer technician that I had for a year and a half during high school. Included in that negative expectation were some concerns about having to create a relationship with the work crew. Living in my home town and seeing people say one thing and do another left me questioning “Can a college actually practice what it preaches?” or is it just a bunch of talk to justify not following what they preach?

In reality Warren Wilson is much more than I could have ever expected.

The atmosphere is friendly and full of people who are willing to help with anything that is needed. All you have to do is ask. I never expected that any “American” college would be so open and excepting of so many people of different races, creeds, beliefs, cultures, and backgrounds. It is such a great feeling to be accepted as who you are and for your skills rather than the pre-constructed norm that society imposes on us from the time we are born. Also “Camp Wilson” is a lot more like a “summer camp” that I would have ever expected, but I know that the pace is about to be quickened and that summer camp feeling is about to disappear.

The transition from high school to college has been much easier than I ever expected due to the ability to share ideas freely and openly without the worry of being judged. The transition was also helped along by the fact that things shared in a peer group are done with a certain level of confidence that increases as the bonds forged get stronger.

Work. The work crew assignments although may not be what you were hoping for will probably be a good fit after we are able to adjust to the somewhat random order of the assignments. I like working. I’m just not fond of workplace politics.

It was refreshing to have my expectations shattered when it came to seeing how Warren Wilson practices what it preaches. I’m glad to see for the most part the staff and students pitching in to help “walk the walk” instead of just talking. One good example is service day 2010, in which the freshmen peer groups went out to local community gardens to help give notice to the issue of food insecurity. This is also a way of giving back to the community that helped to start the college. Another area that Warren Wilson practices what it preaches is in using bio-fuels to power almost all of the vehicles used on campus. Giving back to a community can be a very rewarding experience, because it allows a younger generation to see that there is more to life than computers and technology.

All in all college is what you make of it, that means not being hold-up in your room on your computer but experiencing all of what Warren Wilson has to offer.

So Long Ago... So Far Away...

I started the applications for Teach for America and graduate school just this week. I am beginning my senior year at Warren Wilson in two weeks. As I look forward into this year, I cannot help but look back at how this whole amazing journey started with a letter four and a half years ago.

I can still remember the day I got my first information packet from Warren Wilson. I had been searching fruitlessly for the right college for months. No matter what college search site I used, all my searches came up empty. When I got the envelope from Wilson, I did what I did with all college mailings; I tore it open and glanced at the first page, prepared to throw it into the recycling. Instead, I burst into tears; I had finally found my school. All I had to read was “work program. . .service requirement. . .working farm” to know it was perfect. I visited on my 17th birthday, applied early decision, was accepted, and arrived in August of 2007. From the beginning, I loved Warren Wilson despite the fact that I lived in Sunderland next to one of the loudest residents in the dorm, and I worked on dining, two things many incoming students may dread. By the end of the year, I had managed to accumulate 97 service hours, learned to drum, attended every contra dance except one, avoided getting the flu when it ran through Sunderland, started singing (a lifelong dream), went to yoga twice a week every week, completed training to become an advocate for Our VOICE, the Asheville rape crisis center, and declared a History major with a Gender and Women's Studies minor. It was, without a doubt, one of the best years of my life.

When we let out for summer, I counted the days until I would be back at Wilson with my friends, in a new dorm, Ballfield B, and on my new crew, RISE Project (www.warren-wilson.edu/~rise). I re-declared my major as Gender and Women's studies with a History minor and then added a second minor in Music. By the time summer arrived, I was already counting down the days until I would be back at Wilson for my junior year. When I got back home to New Mexico, I realized something had changed. In the past, the trip to New Mexico was a trip home. That summer, the trip to New Mexico was a visit home. Warren Wilson had become my real home, a place where I had built a family of amazing, strong, and wonderful friends, had a job, and had established myself as part of the community.

Back at Wilson that fall, I face the most stressful year to date. I was returning to school after a lot of drama at home during the summer. I needed time to process and recover but school was in full swing before I really got the chance. My high stress made it hard at times to function and when I came down with mono, the situation did not improve. I made it through the fall semester still in good academic standing but completely exhausted. Spring semester, I decided to take both the capstone (thesis) classes – Feminist Thought and Gender and Social Change – for my Gender Studies major. After turning in my two 21 page papers which completed those classes, there was nothing I wanted more than for the year to end. Academia seemed to be getting the best of me. I began to worry that the dreaded senioritis had arrived a year early and I might have burnt myself out for my senior year which I had been looking forward to.

My dread evaporated about half way through the summer, turning into overwhelming excitement to see my friends again, move back to my old room, sing with the college chorale, work on my old crew (RISE), and try to squeeze in as many service hours as I can manage even though I don't technically need them. It is strange getting to the place in school where I am finishing things. It's both happy and sad to realize that fall semester I will be taking my final gender studies course, my final general education course, and my final elective for my music minor. Come spring, I will be preparing for my senior solo voice recital and sorting through my various belongings to decide which ones are going with me wherever I go next. Finally, I will be walking across the stage to receive my diploma. It is surreal, wonderful, and sad. I cannot believe my time here has passed so fast. Of course it hasn't always been an easy or fun process but on this side of things, it is much easier to see the good in everything I have learned while at Wilson. Attending Wilson has been and I know will continue to be a gift which informs every action in my life. In the end, what can I say but, thank you to everyone who has made this experience what it is.

Victoria

Been there, done that - But not really...

When I first came to WWC, I was not planning to study abroad. I had traveled all over the world working with my mother and thought I would not like a trip where I was learning rather than working. However, when I saw my name on the list of eligible study abroad students for the 2009/2010 year, I decided to check out the trips just in case I wanted to do one of them. I wasn’t interested in going to London, Costa Rica, Italy, or Mexico. However, when I saw there was a trip going to Ghana, I knew I had to go. It was a short-term study abroad course called Globalization, Culture, and Development in Ghana. Short-term study abroad courses meet for a semester and then go to the place of study for a couple of weeks during winter or summer break. I applied for the trip and was accepted. Every Monday at 4:00 during spring semester, I met with a group of seven other students and my professor. We learned about the many cultures in Ghana. We learned to critically look at the term “development” and understand the real implications behind “globalization.” We started learning a little bit of Twi (pronounced “tree”), one of the main languages spoken in Ghana. We had a lot to learn but we also took time to get to know each other. It was a very diverse group of students and we weren’t sure we could all get along for two weeks.

Finally, it was May 19, the day of our departure. I got up at 5:30 in the morning, cooked myself breakfast, checked my email one last time, and walked across campus to meet the bus to the airport. Three plane flights later, we were in Accra, the political capital of Ghana. As soon as the plane touched down, all the Ghanaians on the plane erupted into applause (something or professor told us they would do) and for the first time it hit me that I was finally in Ghana. Over the next two weeks, we did a lot of things. We were based in home stays in Accra but also spent time traveling outside of Accra to see various sites around Ghana. It was an eventful trip about which it would take pages to write. However, there were a few days which stood out.

The day after we got to Ghana, we went to a restaurant called Chez Afrique where every Friday a live band plays Highlife music. Highlife is Ghanaian music which mixes Ghanaian drum beats with western instruments. We danced from 8:00 PM to 12:30 AM. While it would have been nice to sleep in the next day, our bus picked us up at our home stays at 7:00 to go sight seeing in Accra. For the next couple days, we traveled around Accra, visited a primary school in Pima (a very poor, coastal section of Accra), and had a generally fantastic time. Six days after we got to Ghana, we headed out to Cape Coast to visit Ghana’s most popular tourist attraction, Elmina Slave Castle. Elmina is a beautiful fishing town on the coast of Ghana. Elmina Castle was built by the Portuguese to assist with gold exportation and later was used in the exportation of slaves. The castle consists of a chapel, dungeons used to hold the people before they were loaded onto ships, and officer’s headquarters. While I have seen first hand the legacy slavery has left in the US, it is different seeing the legacy slave exportation left in Ghana. We were shown around the castle and given vivid descriptions of what the people taken into slavery would have experienced before being loaded onto ships. We were given the opportunity to look out the “door of no return” which leads out of a room whose walls are now lined with wreaths in memory of people’s friends and family. While looking out the door of no return, I started crying and could not stop until well after we were back on the bus. It was a hard morning but I am very glad I got to have that experience.

That afternoon, to help us unwind from a very intense morning, we drove to Kakum National Forest. There, we took a walk on a swinging canopy bridge and got to see the incredibly beautiful Ghanaian rainforest from the tops of the trees. That evening, we drove to Kumasi, the cultural capital of Ghana. There, we toured the Asanti kings’ old palace which is now a museum, and visited a couple of villages which make beads, Adinkra cloth, and Kente cloth. Then we drove back to Accra. After two nights back with our families, we were on the road again, this time heading for the Volta region of Ghana. The drive was spectacular. We drove much of the way next to the Volta River which looks something like what you would expect to see in a fairytale. The water is almost silver; small, multicolored fishing boats can easily be seen floating along catching fish; the banks of the river slope up into mountains which are silhouetted by a beautiful blue sky. On our way to Ho, the capital of Volta, we stopped at a community-run monkey sanctuary where we fed bananas to a troupe of Mona monkeys.

We spent the night in Ho and in the morning headed to a secondary school for the service section of our trip. There, we were working with a group of students age 15-22 teaching them internet skills. Because there were not enough computers at the school for each of the people in my class to teach on one, I opted to stay outside with my professor and the students waiting to go into the computer lab. Outside, we danced, played circle games, and sang with the students. By the end of the morning I had exchanged email addresses with around 20 of the students and was thoroughly sunburned and exhausted. I was glad to get back on the bus and head back to Accra. The next day was our last day in Ghana so we went souvenir shopping at an incredibly overwhelming art market. At 5:00 the next morning, we were headed to the airport to catch our plane home. For me, coming home was the hardest part of the trip. The entire group had gotten really close during our travels (we all got along the entire trip) and I knew I was going to miss them a lot. I had also fallen in love with Ghana. My last taste of Ghana came when we touched down in New York and yet again all the Ghanaians burst into applause. This time, we joined them as well.

Victoria

8 hours x's 5 days = 40 hours

I’ve got a week of working eight to five (minus the 12 o’clock hour for lunch) under my belt. One down, eleven more to go. This summer, I opted to remain at school and work a forty-hour contract twelve out of the fourteen weeks of summer vacation. I work in the Advancement Office (which handles Alumni, Community, and Church relations for the College, as well as Fundraising), and while there are certainly some students who might disparage office work in favor of something less white-collar, I find myself aptly suited for the task. Maybe it’s because my parents are fundraisers. Maybe it’s because the majority of my previous work experience is office work. Maybe some mixture thereof. Who knows?

This will actually be the first time in my life where I’ll have been employed full time for such a long stretch. I did work fall break and the last couple of weeks of winter vacation as well, but now I’ll be working for three months. So far I’ve found that while doing the same task for eight hours a day may grind a little, the trade-off is that, unlike classes, the work doesn’t follow you home. I’ve also been asked to join in on the weekly Monday morning staff meetings, which has added some more context to the work I do in the office. The harder I apply myself in my work, the more responsibility and independence I’m being given, which is a liberating experience.

I’m also excited to be around campus this summer. In Advancement, we’re all gearing up for Weekend at Wilson in June, where people can register to participate in a series of workshops. Besides that, I’m especially looking forward to the return of the MFA Program to campus. I got to attend the evening readings over the winter break, and found it, as a Creative Writing major, both intimidating and inspirational.

A part of me is also impatient for summer to end. Working for Advancement this summer is sort of bittersweet, for while I do enjoy my work, it will be the end of my time on the crew. When the academic year begins in August, I take my position as Student Caucus Co-Convener and begin applying myself to facilitating the student end of Shared Governance at Wilson. With a Governance Task Force convened to review Shared Governance as well as a new Dean of Students, it’s a bit of a crucial moment to be one of the people at the helm of student governance.
Still, I’d like to make it last. My transfer credits give me only two years here at Warren Wilson, and I feel like I need to make the most of them. So, even though I’ve already finished one week of work, I still have eleven more to enjoy.

Alex

What's An Uppsala?

62 days and counting until my summer officially begins. On June 21st I head to the airport to start my journey to Stockholm, Sweden. I have been many times before, however this time is different. I plan to spend 9 weeks studying at the Uppsala International Summer Session (UISS) which is 1.5 hours north of the capital. UISS is a unique program designed for international students, ages 18-65, from all over the world to come together and study Swedish language and culture. I am excited to find out who I will meet and from where. I applied last October and almost cried of happiness when I received word of my acceptance.

I will be taking an intensive language course to perfect my Swedish as well as Modern Swedish History. In addition to all my class time and studying, I will be given opportunities to explore a different city other than Stockholm.

The reason I chose Sweden and this program is not just because of my academics but for a much more personal agenda. I am very proud that I have dual citizenship with Sweden and love everything about Sweden. I am very close with my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins in Sweden and see them as often as we can all make the trip across the Atlantic. So I am going to Uppsala because I want to know everything there is to know about the history and language. I have only gone to Sweden with my family to see my family. I think I will greatly benefit from seeing Sweden from a different perspective- on my own. I will be positively forced to practice my Swedish and test my comfort zones.

The independence I will be given this summer both terrifies and thrills me. I am beside myself with happiness at the prospect.

I will come back after 9 weeks of complete fun just two days before classes start for the fall. I know I will be tired and jetlagged but I also know that my best friends from Wilson will be waiting for me when I walk off the plane to my second home.

Andrea

Reaffirming Work

Firefighting in Buncombe County

At the beginning of the semester I took a Wildland Firefighting course sponsored by Forestry. In the Swannanoa Fire Department I learned how to fight wildfires, which on paper is a great way to boost a resume. The theory behind the class was that when the siren on top of Gladfelter went off three times, there was a wildfire in Buncombe County, and any Wilsonites with a certificate and a pair of good boots could come running to fight a fire. Having committed already to a play and 18 credits of classes, I honestly thought I would never answer the call.

On work day, the fire siren went off. I had a choice – answer the call and miss the communal joys of Work Day, or head off into the scorched earth.

I was part of a three-man crew that fought fires for thirteen hours straight on Work Day. While it may seem like grueling work that tears you down (and indeed it does) it is also the most relaxing and rewarding work I have ever done. Climbing down a mountain to put out spot fires isn’t particularly glamorous, and it is exhausting, but it is simple. You can lose yourself in your work, and spend hours upon hours thinking of only one thing, and everything else – your exams, homework, term papers, arguments, frustrations – simply does not exist.

While patting mud balls onto smoking bits of wood, I found myself wondering where else could I have opportunities like this? Warren Wilson values work – real work that has more meaning than just a dollar value. Firefighting is an experience I never planned to explore before I cam to the Swannanoa, and I am eternally grateful. The thrill of answering the air-raid siren in the middle of a class is like nothing else I have ever known. There is a camaraderie among firefighters that isn’t limited to counties or states. All firefighters have done the same backbreaking work of digging a fire line and smiled through a layer of soot into a smoke-filled sky.

Warren Wilson values work, and this value means more in the adult world than many people realize. Warren Wilson’s work program prepares students to fully commit to their work and earn a place for themselves in whatever career they may choose.

Diana

Ties That Bind

Junior Rachel Rasmussen is spending a semester with Warren Wilson’s newest exchange partner, the Universidad de Oriente in Valladolid, Mexico, where is she taking courses in linguistics, Mayan culture and culinary arts. Rachel and her host family recently visited the Mayan ruins of Ek Balam. Valladolid is an important center for contemporary Mayan culture, and the Universidad de Oriente offers Mayan studies as one of its major focuses, as well as linguistics, education, sustainable tourism and gastronomy. By equipping its graduates with practical as well as academic knowledge, UNO hopes to generate more local employment and opportunities for young adults in the Yucatan region. Rachel writes:

"After two months of studying in the Yucatan, I finally feel less like the funny-looking new kid and more like I actually live here. I´ve noticed a difference in other people, too: less awkward stares, less taxi drivers mistaking me for a tourist, and less people not understanding my Spanish. Now, I can confidently make my way around town, have substantial conversations with my host family and teachers, and even get some of the jokes my classmates make (though often when I try to make jokes of my own, I wind up having to re-explain myself and the joke tends to get lost in translation). Being the only non-Mexican student at a small university of 600 seemed like it would be a daunting task, but I have a great support group of teachers, students, and host family. I'm actually glad I´m not here with a large group of Americans, because total immersion is helping me dig deeper into this unique culture.

And it really is a neat cultural blend of Mayan tradition, modern Mexico, and the odd pop-culture references from the US (think Lady Gaga and Britney Spears). In my Mayan culture classes, we take on these topics of `living in two worlds´ and what it means to be a young person with Mayan heritage living in `the modern world´. We wonder about the complexities of Mayan philosophy, analyze how Spanish colonialism has influenced traditional Mayan beliefs, listen to stories of Mayan mythology, and even contemplate about the astronomical meanings of 2012...no worries, it doesn´t predict the world will end.

So yes, a lot of things are definitely different here-they speak Spanish everywhere, nobody lives in a dorm, I drink bottled water, I spend much more of my time in class and much less doing homework. And there´s certainly familiarities and people that I miss at Warren Wilson. But in the end, one of the biggest similarities I find between my life in the Yucatan and my life in Carolina is in the quality of the people and the opportunities to connect with their stories."

Hey, warm those hands lady!

Saturday I decided to try something new… milk a cow. I have quite a few friends on the Farm Crew, so I thought it would be fun to tag along with Alice on her Saturday morning milking. Why not? It’s not like every college student has opportunities such as these. I had it all planned out. I borrowed muck boots from another friend on the farm and knew to meet up with Alice at promptly 7am. I woke up before the sun rose and dressed warmly for it snowing and cold.

It was beautiful walking down to the farm with snow flakes being illuminated by all the light posts. As we walked past all of the dorms I knew that everyone was still sleeping bundled up in their beds. We finally made it to the farm and took off a couple layers because being so close to Katie, our milking cow, would get warm.

First we had to clean Katie’s udder and underside completely before we began our milking. Once that was complete, we set up two stools on either side and started milking. It was so much harder then I would have ever imagined. I was “in charge” of one teat and struggled to get any milk to come out. It was not until after Alice had finished her 2 teats that I eventually got into a rhythm. Afterward we brought our pale into the farm shop and filtered it into 2 large mason jars. Ready for consumption.

I am just so happy that I got to have the experience of milking Katie. I continued my day with making muffins for breakfast with Katie’s milk, which were delicious. Then I was back to the grind stone with homework for the rest of the afternoon.

This past Sunday I also decided to try something new again…bake bread. I realize that many people bake bread all the time; however I have never done such a thing. I found a recipe online, bought some yeast and ingredients, and proceeded to go to the kitchen and figure it out. Luckily someone was in the kitchen at the same time who makes bread often and was willing to show me a few tricks when it came to kneading. However, other then that I did it. It was so gratifying after 2.5 hours to pull two large rounded loaves of bread out of the oven. It tasted so good to eat something that I made myself.

So this has been a couple weeks of new experiences that are just two more reasons why I love Warren Wilson.

Andrea

How Green Is My Valley

As a Warren Wilson student, I was given the opportunity to apply for the Irish-American Scholars program, which exchanges students from universities in the US and Northern Ireland. Now fully into my sixth month at the University of Ulster in Coleraine, I can finally say that I am undeniably homesick.

Don't get me wrong--I love Northern Ireland. The people here are ridiculously nice, and I'm surrounded by incredibly beauty (that photo is from my bedroom window!). I've met some amazing people here that have challenged my conceptions about identity, culture, and lifestyle. I have plenty of leisure time, and I've travelled about the British Isles extensively and have plans to go further. I've still got some money in the bank from summer work and I can walk to the local pub whenever I want.

But, and this is the life-altering bit--it's not Wilson. My favorite flannel, stolen from my father in high school, still gets lumberjack jokes. I haven't found a piece of kale YET. For what is not the first time in my life, I am the hippie weirdo that thinks too hard about food, empathizes with cows, rabidly recycles, does not own a proper "party dress," and aches to work.

Writing an email to my WWC international studies advisor (who happens to be married to my academic advisor, making communication between all of us a breeze), I had a realization: my culture shocks did not come mostly from a change in currency, weather, lifestyle, food, or ideology. My time at Wilson has made those differences seem so superficial that the switch has been at times comical but never overwhelming. Truly, my culture shock comes from leaving Wilson and attending a big, "real" University. I get lost in the crowds and lost in the hallways. I pay for coffee at a coffee shop, and I cook by myself in my flat. Failing a year means a tuition-free do-over year, so there's really no incentive to pass. In my massive 40-person lectures (in a legitimate lecture hall!!) half the students are texting, a fair proportion are on Facebook, and the others look like they want to die. I am forced to make way too much awkward eye contact with the lecturer because I am the only person making an effort to express interest.

This is not to say that Wilson lectures don't ever include someone dozing off or not paying attention, or heaven forbid, not attending. Sure, that happens in any classroom. But overall, my classes at Wilson have been stimulating, precisely because the students care about the topics, and therefore the professor cares. I have sat outside Carson many a time and continued a discussion carried over from class that made me late for lunch. I bring up readings with my friends because they made me see the world in a slightly different way. There is a conscious effort in so many Wilson situations to make the material applicable to life, integrating experiences and seeing the interconnectedness of everything you do. Your social life melts into your work life, which informs your academics, which stimulates service, which creates your dreams. If you don't care about what you're learning...you leave. You go somewhere else, do something else, try something else.

So, here I am, in the midst of what is supposed to be the Time of My Life, pining away for a little piece of land across the ocean and feeling pretty silly about it all. I know that time passes oh-so-quickly, and as much as I try to live in the moment and learn from the here and now, I can't help but know that Wilson is where I belong, and I look forward to my homecoming.

Michelle

The Christmas Truce of 1914

By Paul J. Magnarella

Although World War I ranks as one of the most horrific in history, causing about 40 million casualties and up to 20 million military and civilian deaths, it also included a famous and spontaneous peaceful interlude inscribed in chronicles as the unofficial Christmas Truce of 1914.

World War I The assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne, by a Bosnian Serb in Sarajevo on 28 June 1914, plunged much of Europe into war. The Entente Powers of France, Russia and Britain stood against the Central Powers of the Austro-Hungarian, German, and Ottoman Empires. In mid-September, the German, British and French commands ordered their armies to entrench along a 475 mile Western Front that extended from the North Sea to the Swiss frontier. Four years of brutal, stalemated trench warfare followed. Most trenches were about seven feet deep and six feet wide topped by a parapet of sandbags. From there barbed wire entanglements extended into No-Man’s land. In many places the No-Man’s Land separating German and British front-line trenches was only 30 to 70 yards wide.

The elements were sometimes more debilitating than the enemy. Standing in the mud and water for days often resulted in feet becoming gangrenous. Excessive exposure to wet and cold caused nephritis, which affected the kidneys. The accumulated rubbish, urine, and excreta in the trenches negatively impacted on health. Food scraps and decaying corpses attracted huge numbers of disease-carrying rats. The unwashed men attracted lice that covered their bodies with bite marks and caused “trench fever.” Artillery bursts caused some men to experience shell shock.

Periodically, the aristocratic generals (safely lodged in the rear) ordered the mostly lower class men in the trenches to make suicidal frontal assaults on enemy trenches. Machine guns and rapid fire rifles simply mowed down attacking men in No-Man’s Land, where their bodies often remained for weeks in a decaying state. The generals never devised a sensible plan to break the cruel stalemate that trench warfare became.

On Christmas Eve the weather cleared. Rain gave way to a clear cold that froze the mud and water, making movement easier and boots and clothing drier. Having received gift packages from home, the men of both sides were in a festive mood. That evening, along the front-line, German troops sang Christmas carols. Many erected candle-lit Christmas trees on their parapets and called out season’s greetings to their enemies opposite them.

Many Entente troops responded with applause, holiday wishes, and songs of their own. Concerned, one British battalion command informed Brigade Headquarters: “Germans have illuminated their trenches, are singing songs, and are wishing us a Happy Xmas. Compliments are being exchanged, but [I] am nevertheless taking all military precautions...”

Then, an amazing series of events occurred. Along parts of the British, French and Belgian lines, men from both sides went out into No-Man’s Land unarmed to meet, shake hands and fraternize. The First Battalion Royal Irish Rifles reported Germans calling out: “If you Englishmen come out and talk to us, we won’t fire.”

Scotsmen in Flanders, the 2nd Queen’s Battalion near La Chapelle d’Armentieres, and the 2nd Battalion Royal Welch Fusiliers also reported Germans singing Stille Nacht [Silent Night] and extending invitations to meet in No Man’s Land.

Christmas Day
On the morning of 25 December, the 2nd Battalion Devons reported seeing the Germans hoist a board with the words “You no fight, we no fight.” Opposite the 2nd Battalion Border Regiment, the process began with a German officer emerging from his trench waving a white flag. The 2nd Battalion Wiltshires reported men on both sides waving to each other, and then going out into No-Man’s Land to meet unarmed. After initial greetings both sides agreed to bury their dead comrades who had been laying in No-Man’s Land for weeks. Some Germans and British worked together in burial parties; a British soldier described a joint funeral service as “a sight one will never forget!” Members of the British Rifle Brigade gave the Germans wooden crosses to mark their graves.

The opposing sides exchanged food, drink, cigarettes, photographs, addresses and sincere wishes for peace. A British officer found the scene “absolutely astounding!” The troops found each other to be quite likeable. Many men felt compelled to write home about their experience. A London Rifles Brigade officer: “They [Germans] were really magnificent in the whole thing....I now have a very different opinion of the Germans.” A Scots Guard: “Some of them are very nice fellows and did not show any hatred, which makes me think they are forced to fight.”

Once No-Man’s Land had been cleared of corpses, some men found areas suitable for soccer games with improvised balls. In places, British and Germans ate Christmas dinner together, sharing whatever they had. They entertained each other with singing and instrumental music.

How It Ended
Many who participated in an informal truce hoped to continue it until New Year’s Day or beyond. But the High Commands sternly objected. A German army order dated threatened that fraternization with the enemy would be punished as high treason. A British order warned that “Officers and NCOs allowing [fraternization] would be brought before a court martial.”

In late December the High Commands ordered artillery bombardments along the front. They did the same in following years to ensure that the 1914 Christmas truce would not be repeated. Despite these measures, a few friendly encounters did occur, but on a much smaller scale than in 1914.

Soldiers Express Themselves
The Christmas truce touched the men deeply as evidenced in their letters and diaries. Various British soldiers wrote the following: “The most wonderful day on record!” “The most extraordinary celebration of Christmas any of us will ever experience!” “This experience has been the most practical demonstration I have seen of Peace on earth and goodwill towards men.” German troops wrote: “The way we spend Christmas in the trenches sounds almost like a fairy tale.” “It was a Christmas celebration in keeping with the command ‘Peace on earth’ and a memory which will stay with us always.” “Probably the most extraordinary event of the whole year—a soldier’s truce without any higher sanction by officers or generals.”

Speaking in the House of Commons in 1930, Sir H. Kingsley Wood, a former major who had served at the front in 1914 stated: “If we had been left to ourselves there would never have been another shot fired. …it was only the fact that we were being controlled by others that made it necessary for us to start trying to shoot one another again.”

Today, the Christmas Truce of 1914 is regarded as evidence of men’s natural desire for peace and friendship, even in the context of a brutal and senseless conflict. However, the 1914 Christmas Truce is not unique in history. During the early 19th century Peninsula War, British and French soldiers at times visited each other, shared rations and played cards. Periodically during the 1854-56 Crimean War French, British and Russian troops gathered around the same fire to smoke and drink together.

In the American Civil War (1861-65) Yankees and Rebels traded coffee and tobacco and peacefully fished from opposite sides of the same rivers. Throughout history, it has been rare for men fighting at close quarters not to extend friendly gestures and establish informal truces with their enemies.

Paul J. Magnarella is Director of Peace and Justice Studies, Warren Wilson College.

This commentary was distributed by PeaceVoice, a program of the Oregon Peace Institute.