Semi-weekly herald., 1915-03-29
The terror of No Mans land fell

the air. We were all unhumanly hap
py for that one glorious instant
in which we all--English, Portuguese,
Americans and even Nadeem, the
Turk, and that, savages as we had
been cave men as we were, the
awfuness of war had not filled the
corners of our hearts where love and
Christmas live. | think Nadeem was
first to sense what had happened.
He suddenly jumped out of the trench
and began waving his hands and
cheering, While he was doing this a
| ponderous German with happy
smile that exposed two rows of gilt
tering white teeth climbed out of
the trench and shouted.
Lieutenant Schroeder presents his
compliments to your lieutenant, and
desires to know If he will select four
men to come to the middle of the
| neutral territory, to arrange for a
truce for the burying of the dead"
Our lieutenant agreed in minute.
| was one of the four men he select
ed and | shall never forget how
felt as we advanced to meet the four
| German soldiers and their lieutenant
who were coming toward us. We felt
as if we wanted to throw our arms
about these men; they told me later
in the day that the same desire was
upon them. The hatred of war had
been suddenly withdrawn and it left
a vacuum in which we human beings
rushed into contact with each other.
You felt their Notwithstanding
handshakes, with both hands-in your
heart.
The truce was arranged. There
was to be no more fighting for one
hour and the men from both sides
were to come out and bury the dead.
The soldiers flocked from both trench
es. They rushed at each other and
shook hands.
81 want to have your photographs"
said the German lieutenant to our
party. He sent back for his camera
and we enemies stood with our arms
about each others shoulders in horse
show fashion while the lieutenant
snapped his camera.
"lf | don't have cnance to send
you the prints before the war is
over" he said, 81 shall see that you
get them afterwards" And he took
our addresses.
At last the bodies were buried.
The hour of truce had passed. But
the men did not go back to the
trenches. In groups all about that
once terrible strip of No Mans land
the Germans and the legionaries sat
talking or playing cards, exchanging
tobacco and cigarettes and joking
and laughing.
Don't blame u.s." was the burden
of the Germans talk. at isn'a our
fault that we are fighting. We don't
know what it is all about. We have
wives and children and we're just
the same kind of men as you are.
We're damned fools and so is every
body who is fighting"
1t wasn't until the sun began to go
down that the groups broke up.
Were to have band in our
trenches tonight, and we want you to
hear it," said the Germans as they
bade us goodbye and as we shook
the hands that might slay us on the
morrow. After supper we heard
sudden blast of music that thrilled
US. A little German band had crept
into the German trenches and an
nounced itself with a grand chord.
Then came the unexpected strains of
the Marseillaise. The Frenchmen went
almost frantic with delight. Then
came our turn when the band played
It's a Long Way to Tipperary.
George Ullard, our negro cook, who
came from Galveston, got out a mouth
organ and almost burst his lungs
playing Die Wacht Am Rhein. The
silence in the German trenches was
a thousand times more eloquent than
the blast of cheers that came when
George had finished.
There was no mare shooting all
night until about six in the morning
when the sound of the rifles was
heard from down the trench. But
Nadeem couldn't measure human ma
ture unerringly. He had been the
first to feel the spirit of Christmas
day, but, on this day after Christ
mas, he failed to sense the grimness
of war that had fallen over the
trenches during the night. Early in
the morning he jumped out of the
trench and began waving his hands
again. John Street, an American,
who had been an evangelist in st.
Louis jumped out with him and be-