大象传媒

It was Christmas Day in the year 1944, the period of goodwill to all men, when we took up our positions in a very sensitive part of the front line on German soil.

Forward trenches were to be manned by two men in each position. Constant vigilance was to be maintained, as several times during the preceding nights small German patrols had breached our lines, and left signs of their presence. The Germans had a good idea of our positions and of our strength. Our unit should have been relieved a day or two before Christmas but the reinforcements had been attacked and bombed before reaching us. They had been forced to withdraw and await another opportunity.

Several parts of the line on each flank of us had been shelled from time to time, but the expected follow up of an attack had not materialised. Was the major assault being saved up for Christmas Day? Did the Germans think that we would all be sitting down to roast turkey and plum pudding, whilst they swarmed across No Man's Land and overwhelmed us? Christmas Day dawned, misty and cold. Sporadic shelling had opened up from the German positions. It was aimed mainly at the trenches. A Sergeant of the Canadian unit on our right flank suggested that it might be better to withdraw men from the exposed trench positions, and place them nearer the houses to our rear.

But our orders were to hold the trenches as long as possible in the event of an attack. So, my men and I stayed in the trenches. Shortly afterwards the concentrated shelling began and continued on and on. Everyone was pinned down. Constant noise. My companion began to show signs of nervousness. We were in a well constructed slit trench - from the air it would look like the letter "H" - with side panels, which gave extra shelter. It was impossible to tell what was happening around us, but obviously everyone was in danger. If a direct hit could be avoided, there was always the chance we would survive. Suddenly, a shell came screaming towards our trench, and hit the parapet above our heads. So, this was the way the war was going to end for us! There was a fizzing sound, like a giant firework spluttering out - the shell was a "Dud". As the morning progressed the shelling abruptly ceased, but no attack took place.

At last, a message was sent to withdraw to the village. There, I discovered that my Canadian Sergeant friend had been severely wounded in the house where he had been sheltering.

Yes, it was Christmas Day and we had had quite a Party!

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