Isaac Tatum, Skittery to his trenchmates, hugged himself against the bitter cold. This was no place to be on Christmas Eve. He should be home, with his family, watching the Christmas tree, singing carols by the fire and telling stories to his younger cousins about Santa Claus and the birth of Christ. Not sitting in a muddy trench with boys barely old enough to vote, listening to them cough and scream, and smelling the thick scent of blood and death.

He rubbed his nose with his hand and sneezed. It had better be just a cold he was catching; to go to war, then die of pneumonia? What kind of ironic God did he work for?

"Goose or ham, Skitts?"

Skittery turned his head to look at the boy beside him. "What, Itey?"

"Did your mother serve goose or ham on Christmas eve?"

"Ham," Skittery grunted. "Honey-baked, cooked all day," He sighed. "I can almost smell it now."

"Yeah..." Pie sighed. "Yeah, my mom made ham too."

"My mom fixed up turkey," another solider, called Snitch, said. "My sister and my cousins and me would decorate the tree, and when we finished, my mom and my aunts would come out with the turkey and other good foods, and we'd eat, and then my uncles-" he stopped to let a cough rip through his weak body. Skittery sighed, his breath clouding before him. This would be Snitch's last Christmas, without a doubt. What a shitty way to spend it.

"Y'know what I miss most?" An older soldier called Swifty said, his gun resting across his knees. "The carols by the fire. My girl, back home, has such a pretty voice," he sighed. "She sang Silent Night like an angel."

"Yeah," Snitch murmured. "Silent Night. That's the prettiest carol."

Quiet fell over the trench as the boys, none of them older than twenty-two, remembered a warm house, bright lights, smiling faces, and colorful gifts under the tree.

Pie Eater jerked suddenly. "You guys hear that?"

"Hear what?" Swifty demanded.

"Shut up. Listen."

The boys fell silent again, now listening, tense and ready for a fight from the Germans in the trench across the field. But, while listening, they heard not the battle cries of soldiers, but a song, slow and soft, rising towards the quarter moon.

"Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht

alles schläft, einsam wacht"

"Silent Night!" Skittery whispered. "That's Silent Night!"

Pie Eater listened for a moment, then sang along: "Round yon virgin mother and child

Holy Infant, so tender and mild."

The other boys in the trench joined in, and the shaking voices of German and English braided in the air.

"Sleep in heavenly peace."

"schlaf in himmlischer Ruh'"

Pie Eater poked his head over the side of the trench. Swifty's jaw clicked shut in surprise. "Pie, what are you doing? You wanna get killed?"

"They have trees, guys!" Pie gushed. "With candles, and... and a star!" He smiled bright. "Wow..." His eyes widened suddenly. "Jesus, they're coming over!"

"What?" Skittery reached for his gun. "My God, if we have to fight on Christmas, I-"

"They have a white flag!" Pie Eater hesitated, then hoisted himself out of the trench.

"Pie, wait!" Skittery cried, throwing his gun down and getting out as well. "You need back-up!" He heard dirt scraping as Snitch followed, scuffling up behind his fellow soldiers, a worn blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

The Americans and the Germans met in between their two trenches, the Germans holding a white cloth between them, and looking apprehensive.
"... Christmas," one said, his green eyes flitting from Pie, to Skittery, to Snitch. "Truce?"

"Truce?" Skittery blinked. "Um..."

"Sure!" Pie grinned and shook the hand of a German soldier. "Merry Christmas."

The Germans smiled. "Frohe Weihnachten," they said, following Pie's lead and shaking hands with their American counterparts. When Snitch started to cough again, one of the German soldiers gave him a sympathetic glance.

"Sick?" The German said. "Warm drink." He shouted something in his native tonue to the other men in his trench. A few minutes later, a new German emerged with a dull, dented thermos, which was held in Snitch's direction.

"Coffee," the soldier encouraged when Snitch hesitated. "Good."

Snitch took the thermos, but didn't drink from it. "Skitts... I..."

Skittery studied the German soldiers. They didn't look much older than his own nineteen years; some were probably closer to Snitch's sixteen. They looked worn and beaten. Their eyes were old and hard, but friendly as well.

Skittery smiled. "Go ahead and drink it, Snitch. These guys are just like us."

"But they're the enemy-"

"We're in a momentary truce. Right now, they're just men."

Snitch hesitated another moment, then drank from the thermos. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes brighter when he finished and gazed at the German soldiers.

"Danke," he said earnestly. "Thank you. Danke."

The other boys in the trench, both trenches, emerged from their holes. The captains and lieutenants scowled on this fraternizing, and attempted to stop it for the first few minutes. But when their men started exchanging ragged gifts of heated drinks, pin-ups, sweet foods from home... the men in charge gave up.

The soldiers chatted in broken German and English, sharing stories about how their celebrated this Holy Day at home, talking about their girls and their families, sharing their misery and finding laughter in it.

When dawn broke, Swifty and Pie started kicked a rubber ball around, a gift from a German soldier. Not long after, a jovial game of soccer began. Those too sick or injured to play sat on the sidelines and cheered the teams on.

The game ended, and there are no records of who won and who lost. Does it matter? Both sides were winners, if the story is perceived right.

When night fell again, a fire was built, and the troops sat in a circle around it, singing carols and exchanging more stories. Swifty and Pie sang popular songs of the era, like 'Pack Up Your Troubles', and even the Germans were able to laugh at their hyper dancing. Snitch fell asleep on Skittery's shoulder, his thumb in his mouth, and talk failed as others joined him in dreamland.

"The truce'll be over tomorrow morning," Swifty sighed, poking at the fire with a stick.

"Such a waste," Skittery made a 'tsk' noise.

"This truce?"

"No. These lives," Skittery looked at the soldiers around him. A group of Germans were quietly playing cards. Some American boys were laughing with a pair of blonde Germans, amiably clapping each other on the shoulder like old friends. Many other soldiers were sleeping like Snitch, dreaming of Christmas at home and looking like little boys.

Skittery petted Snitch's head. "These are people. Innocent people. Why should innocents play pawns and die while the big guys sit comfy in their offices and eat goose and ham?" Skittery shifted Snitch's weight against his shoulder. "I mean, Snitch's just a kid. He signed up for this illegally and got sent out at fifteen. He's not gonna live to see seventeen, and you know it. This ain't fair. It's not how things are supposed to be."

Swifty sighed again. "There's nothing we can do. Tomorrow, we're gonna be fighting these guys."

"If the brass has any sense, they'll move us out."

"They won't," Swifty leaned back and look at the stars. "This is the last peaceful night we'll have in a long time."

Skittery was quiet for a moment, then started to sing in his charming alto: "Silent Night, Holy Night,

All is calm, all is bright."

The Germens were quieter as they joined in: "nur das traute hoch-heilige Paar.
Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar,"

"Sleep in heavenly peace."

"schlaf in himmlischer Ruh'!"

The sleepers were roused, and the soldiers stood around the fading fire with their arms around each others shoulders, a few more strong verses of peace and love before the bloodshed resumed the next morning.

Maybe, if they survived the war, the men in these trenches would meet again someday, and be true friends.

Maybe.

"Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht!
Hirten erst kund gemacht,"

"With the angels let us sing
Alleluia to our King!"

"Tönt es laut von fern und nah:

"Jesus the Saviour is here!"

"Silent Night, Holy Night

Gottes Sonh, o wie lacht

Glories stream from heaven afar,

Da uns schlägt die rettende Strund'

Christ the Saviour is born!

Christ, in deiner Geburt!"

***AUTHOR'S NOTE***

Wow. I actually like this one. Silent Night is most definitely my favorite carol, so I'm glad I could use it in a story. Not to mention, I love this legend about the American soldiers and the German soldiers having a Christmas truce. It's so great. There's a book about it that I plan to get the next time I go to the library.

I tried to be as historically accurate as possible, but I didn't see a point in doing hours of research for a three page story, so mostly I just did a few German translations and found the lyrics to the full Silent Night and Stille Nacht songs.

That's all. ^_^ G'night folks.