While Allelulias rang

THE FURIES OF war did not encourage reflection. But this was the week of Christmas, and the tragedy into which the world had descended was lent desperate pathos by the story of the Christ child.

In one way – perhaps not. The war continued much as normal in the West, where German reverses continued. The Battle of Givenchy, in which Indian troops had suffered so grievously, began to die down early in the week, but the British had held on to their positions. Belgian troops now crossed the Yser and established themselves on the right bank of Diksmuide on 23rd December, while French soldiers made good progress in advancing towards Nyon, and enjoyed further success, occupying Perthes-les-Hurlus (in Champagne) and Consenvoye (near the Meuse) on Christmas Eve. The Germans retorted with the bombardment of St Die (in the north Vosges) on 28th December, but in a sparring contest east of Lombartzyde on the same day, the Belgians succeeded in capturing German trenches and taking significant numbers of prisoners. That was a very improbable event, if judged from the perspective of three or four months earlier. The very next day, they recovered the village of St Georges, near Nieuport.

There had been a marked escalation in the profile of aeroplanes in recent weeks, one which apparently brooked no Christmas interruptions. The British bombed German airsheds at Cuxhaven on Christmas Day, the first combination of air and naval units working together and styled a pre-emptive strike aimed at locating and, if possible, bombing the dirigible sheds housing German Zeppelins. The air temperature was just above 0°C and of the nine seaplanes lowered to the water, only seven were able to start their engines and take off. Those unable to take part were winched back on board. Fog, low cloud and anti-aircraft fire prevented the raid from being a complete success, although several sites were attacked. Nevertheless, the raid demonstrated the feasibility of attack by ship-borne aircraft and showed the strategic importance of this new weapon.The Germans repaid in the same coin by bombing Dover, or, more precisely, dropping bombs in the water surrounding it – less a matter of seasonal restraint than of duff technology.

After their recent reversals, German fortunes in Poland briefly improved during the week. On 23rd December, they broke through the Russian line to the extent of crossing the Bzura at two points, but the Russians chased them back on Christmas Day and firmly re-established themselves. By the following day, the Germans had abandoned any further attempt to capture Warsaw by direct attack across the Bzura and were soon in retreat.

Once again, a fresh sortie from the fortress of Przemsyl on 22nd December was repelled. In Przemysl, besieged by the Russians, Austrian junior doctor Josef Tomann struggled with daily casualties, victims of the cholera epidemic and growing cases of malnutrition. He noted in his diary “We cry every year, but this year we cry bitter tears.” However, he also recorded

On Christmas morning our scouts found three Christmas trees the Russians had left in no-man’s-land with notes that said something like: ‘We wish you, the heroes of Przemysl, a Merry Christmas and hope that we can come to a peaceful agreement as soon as possible.’

There was little sign of that as loss and humiliation accrued. On Christmas Day, Austria was defeated at the Battle of Tannow, after which the Germans, who now barely bothered to conceal growing exasperation with their ally, declared the joint offensive in Galicia at an end. Within a couple of days, the Russians were again in possession of the Carpathian Passes. On Christmas Eve, they claimed to have captured 134,000 German and 225,000 Austrian prisoners to date. Of those 60,000 Austrians who had fallen into the hands of Serbia, 12,000 were already dead of typhus.

The miseries of other nations, and especially of those whose soldiers and civilians had an even more tenuous investment in the war, escalated again during the week. Australian and New Zealand troops arrived in Cairo on 23rd December en route for Turkey, presaging the onset of grievous loss and suffering – though not quite yet. On the next day, the Portguese colony of Angola (in south-west Africa) was invaded by Germans. On Christmas Day, at the Battle of Sarikamish in Armenia, the Turkish counter-invasion against the Caucasus reached its limit followed, three days hence, by a disastrous retreat. British problems in South Africa resurfaced as well, despite the ostentatious crushing of rebellion during the previous weeks. A raid by rebels under Maritz on 22nd December saw “loyal” Boers roundly defeated.

Among the navies, the balance of advantage see-sawed during the week in a style which, for observers of the past five months, had grown familiar. German warships off Cuxhaven were bombed by British naval airmen on Christmas Day, supported by HMSS Arethusa and Undaunted. Any smugness this may have occasioned was swiftly punished when, on 28th December, drifting German mines in the North Sea destroyed eight vessels.

Scarborough was still reeling from the shock of its recent shelling. Churchill, as First Lord of the Admiralty, made a formal expression of sympathy for the loss and damage it had suffered. In his reply, the Mayor commented that:

Our surprise at the attack was greater as we were led to believe from the conduct of the plucky Emden that German sailors understood something about the glorious old traditions of the sea. It is evident from our experiences of Wednesday that this is not so.

That week in Germany, unhappy Captain Piper faced a court-martial, charged with disobedience and negligent homicide due to the loss of his ship on 4th November. The Yorck had participated in the first offensive operation conducted by the German fleet with the bombardment of Yarmouth on 3rd November (which inflicted minimum damage) but had found itself unable to anchor on its return to Germany at Wilhelmshaven because of dense fog. The next morning, trying again, the Yorck struck two German mines due to a navigational error and sank immediately with heavy loss of life, estimated at the court-martial as “over 300 men”.

The SS Yorck had been launched in 1904 by Field Marshal Wilhelm von Hahnke with these words:

He who wants peace should be prepared for war… may the guns and machines of the Yorck be operated only by men of iron hearts and an iron will, men who know no other order than to put their lives at risk when the might, the greatness and honour of the German people are being fought for.

The humiliation felt by Germany at this loss reverberated around the world especially when Captain Piper was sentenced to two years’ imprisonment on 23rd December.

But the story of Christmas could not be indefinitely gainsaid. It was one understood with quiet courage by the future Labour Prime Minister Ramsay MacDonald. Earlier in the month, as a suspected spy, he had been unceremoniously deported by the Belgian police. Lord Kitchener had been dismayed at his treatment and armed him with an “omnibus” pass for the whole Western Front. Back on the continent MacDonald had been met by General Seely who accompanied him to Ypres where they were soon in the thick of an action in which, according to MacDonald’s biographer, Lord Elton, “both behaved with the utmost coolness… Returning home, he paid a public tribute to the courage of the troops, but said nothing then or later of having been under fire himself.”

In fact, MacDonald also paid a flying visit to the first-aid post at Pervyse and on 23rd December crossed the Channel with Dr Munro and Elsie Knocker, the latter going on Christmas leave to see her young son. The other volunteers at Pervyse were trying to make the most of the festive season, but expecting “the strangest Christmas we may ever spend”.  On Christmas morning they were giving out socks to the soldiers when German shells exploded, injuring the men in the queue. Characteristically they just carried on, treating the wounded, sweeping up the rubble and then sitting down to their “cheery little Christmas dinner” of oxtail soup, cold fowl, fried potatoes, plum pudding, mince pies, nuts, crackers and champagne.

Perhaps they were the lucky ones. Such a feast would be unthinkable for the 577,875 Allied soldiers who spent Christmas as prisoners of war in Germany. As for troops at the Front, some fared much better than others. All had received a Christmas box from Princess Mary whose appeal to the public launched on 15th October had raised more than £162,000 and 426,724 embossed brass boxes were despatched, containing a Christmas card, tobacco, writing materials and a photograph of the popular young princess.  Special arrangements had been made for  non-smokers and nurses were gifted chocolate rather than cigarettes. The King and Queen had sent a Christmas card to every soldier, sailor and nurse. Thousands of gifts had also been sent from home adding to the thousands of letters that were delivered daily by an extremely efficient postal service.

Whether or not troops were able to enjoy such comforts depended on their location. Private Clifford Lane remembered that he had “cold bully beef and a cold lump of Christmas pudding, that was our Christmas dinner. The English newspapers said the British troops in the front line ‘enjoyed’ their Christmas dinner.” By contrast, Captain Bryden McKinnel of the King’s Liverpool Regiment derived true enjoyment from his Christmas:

Presents for the men consisted of… chocolate, khaki handkerchiefs, peppermint drops, camp cocoa, writing paper and pencil. Nothing could have been more acceptable and they were frightfully pleased… then up at a gallop drove a pair of horses and transport wagon full of Princess Mary’s Christmas gifts. They just arrived in time and couldn’t have been staged better… Lord Derby presented plum puddings to the whole battalion and a hamper consisting of green turtles, turkeys ready for eating and cigars for the officers, and one cigar for each of the NCOs. Then we got our mail—a week’s accumulation, 165 bags. What a crowd! Letters and parcels for everybody. The men had special rations of rum, bread and fresh meat. The officers had three messes and one turkey in each mess… Many of the men who are in very comfortable straw with wooden floor dugouts which hold about thirty, almost rivalled us as regards menus today.

The Bedfordshire Times & Independent reported that

all the troops billeted in the village, were invited to a very substantial meat tea at the Hall on Boxing Day. After tea an entertainment was provided, tobacco and cigarettes were handed to all the men in the Hall and, after the concert, coffee and cake and other eatables were provided… The entertainment included Morris dances by Miss H. Tatham’s class and songs by Mrs. T. Gale who completely won the hearts of the soldiers with ‘Tipperary’.

There was also a homely touch in a letter to the editor of the Daily Mail on the ageless issue of youthful noisy exuberance. “The [children of London] will doubtless be glad to help by trying not to scream and sing in the streets just now” suggested the correspondent,

and the boy workers will no longer awake the sufferers by constant whistling. Perhaps even the owners of dogs will try to quiet their barking in the small hours… if all classes could realise that unnecessary noise means torture to our men and lack of rest to our devoted night and day nurses! The English are the most humane people and will all help to suppress unnecessary noise.

The approach of the year’s end and the celebration of Christmas prompted reflection among commanders – after five months of furious and incessant fighting, a habit which had seemed lost to many. Sir Douglas Haig lamented the fate of the British army which would, in the wake of losses endured since August, come to depend upon recent arrivals – men whose patriotism and powers of endurance could not begin to compare with that of the old professional BEF. By contrast, he wrote, “The whole German people from youth up have been impregnated with an intense patriotic feeling.”

This was a subject about which the protagonists habitually overstated their enemies’ advantage. “These young fellows we have only just trained are too helpless,” Rudolf Binding had written after Ypres. “Our infantry battalion [are] almost all Marburg students…” When the German gunner Herbert Sulzback encountered Frenchmen marching into captivity, he was nonplussed at their relief – bordering on euphoria – that the war was behind them, but it was a sentiment shared wholeheartedly by some of his own comrades. One German prisoner told Edward Coeurdevey “We are much better off here than fighting.” Late December made early August seem a great deal more than a mere five months away.

There were also mutterings as to the future of Sir John French – emblematic of the wider dilemma of war. Asquith, relaxing in Walmer Castle, hosted a visit from French just before Christmas. The Commander-in-Chief’s sanguine assessment of the war astonished the Prime Minister and his daughter Violet who told Rupert Brooke that French had asserted that Germany was in crisis, that the war could be over in April or May and that he had “taken nothing but professors prisoners for the past 3 weeks”. This breezy reassurance was not merely misplaced but contemptible. Yet he remained in command because his political masters could not think of what else to do.

French’s delusions belittle the gargantuan sorrow of those under his command. Much more useful is the diary of “Ma” Jeffreys of the Grenadiers, the epitome of the superbly disciplined and lion-hearted professional officer. He recorded a tour of the front line made on 24th December: “I went round early. The water up to my waist in some places. Daylight showed our trenches to be very badly sited as well as full of water and mud. ” Jeffreys seldom lavished praise and had a reputation for despising sentiment. But he never shirked his duty – and he looked after his men.

The story of the Truce of 1914 is dealt with separately, but the dilemma of how to celebrate Christmas engaged the home Fronts as well. The Glasgow Herald reported on 23rd December that

The German newspapers deeply deplore the carrying on of hostilities during the Christmas festival, which they regard as a purely Germanic institution… But they all profess satisfaction that the efforts made by the Pope and by American pacifists to call a truce of God for Christmas Day have come to naught, and that there will be no slackening – not even for this one sacred day – of the struggle to beat down the enemies of the Fatherland.

Although the Imperial Court Circular had stated that the Kaiser had shared Christmas Day with his troops which suggested the front line, he was in fact in Spa, taking the salute at various parades and later enjoying a lavish reception in the splendour of the commandeered Grand Hotel Britannique. A brief service with hymns followed and then the Kaiser gave the homily, saying “God permitted the enemy to compel us to celebrate this festival here. We are attacked. We defend ourselves. We stand on hostile soil, the points of our swords turned to the enemy, our hearts turned to God.” He ended with a flourish before going off for his Christmas lunch by quoting Bismarck: “To the dust with all enemies of Germany! Amen.”

In the East Prussian town of Schneidemuhl, just out of reach of the Russians, twelve-year-old Piete Kuhr

went to the old town church for the Christmas service… Suddenly the organ began to play ‘Silent Night, Holy Night’. Everybody began to sob and cry. The whole church was full of people wearing black clothes and black mourning veils… Now we are all in bed. The house is dark. Dear God, please, please, bring the war to an end.

Hers was assuredly not a lone voice, but it was not one which held currency in the enclaves of power. Chancellor Bethmann-Hollweg remained determined to secure the subjection of Europe by economic means, and there was no shortage of industrialists, let alone of military grandees, who believed this required territorial annexations nor of those still clinging to the delusion that the war could be won or lost in the East. In pursuit of this chimerical vision, they were ruthless. Having already discarded Moltke, they were even now becoming wearied of Falkenhayn.

For those attuned to contemporary ideas of national sovereignty and international jurisprudence it is not hard to understand why the Triple Entente remained committed to the war at Christmas 1914. The insult inflicted by the grotesque violence of five months of war, unspeakable as it was, should not be allowed to obscure the historical truth that Britain and her allies did not sleepwalk into war, but went into it open-eyed and for a reason. One of the Old Contemptibles, Henry Mellersh, wrote many years later that he rejected utterly any idea that the war was

one vast, useless, futile tragedy… my like entered the war expecting an heroic adventure and believing implicitly in the rightness of our cause; we ended greatly disillusioned as to the nature of the adventure but still believing that our cause was right and that we had not fought in vain.