A dry log in the fireplace, a glass of sherry in hand, comfortably settled on my chaise longue, I let myself be enveloped by the warmth and the hypnotic dance of the flames carrying me away to other places.
It is dawn, a freezing mist covers everything, I am in a hole, no, a trench. I rise onto my tiptoes to see beyond it, but a soldier grabs me by the shoulders: « It’s war, my dear lady, do you want to get yourself killed?!! » Day breaks. The shadows become human beings, soldiers shivering with cold, dressed in uniforms made unrecognizable beneath layers of dirt and blood. The war is raging, thousands of French, British, Belgian and German soldiers have died, morale is at its lowest point. Where am I? In what time?
On the ground lies a newspaper stained with mud, I manage to read the date: December 20th, 1914, but the name of my town is unreadable. I am left wondering, how many days has it been lying there? The sky is lead-coloured, but the fog has lifted. A few kilometres away the fighting has resumed, here everything seems calm. One of my companions risks a glance across No Man’s Land. Nothing! Farther away, along the German trench, small Christmas trees have been set up. He informs his companions, everyone is pleased, the day is going to be peaceful. A voice rises from the German lines, a powerful, warm and comforting voice. We do not understand the words, but these Christmas songs are universal. We are all overcome by the magic of the moment, Frenchmen, Belgians and Britons applaud enthusiastically. Encouraged, the German begins singing other Christmas hymns. They climb out of their trenches, and the French, British and Belgians do the same, around them everything is devastated. It is December 25th, 1914 near Ypres in Belgium, and the soldiers have decided to establish a truce. On that day our soldiers understood that they were fighting men just like themselves, men who had the same worries and the same hopes. The singer with the golden voice is named Walter Kirchhoff, he is a famous tenor in his own country. Small gifts are exchanged, a shared meal is organised and even a football match…
I walk away a little, I am witnessing a moment when humanity has regained the upper hand, a unique and historic moment. The following year measures were taken to prevent this fraternisation.
Four soldiers walk towards me and greet me. The COURAGEUX brothers, Édouard and Charles, and the BOURGEOIS brothers, Fernand and Gaston, have come to join me. They sit beside me. One offers me a hot coffee, another a waffle. They do not know me, yet I seem familiar to them.
After a few exchanges they realise they come from the same town, almost from the same neighbourhood. They talk for a while about their families, what they will do after the war, and the aspirations of young men.
Should I tell them that their families will one day be united through marriages in a few decades? That one of them is going to die? No!
« Édouard and Charles, what do your parents do? »
Édouard, the eldest, answers me: « We are originally from Saint-Omer in Pas-de-Calais. Our parents decided to move to Calais. Our father is a locksmith and never lacks customers. Our mother looks after her little brood, and our younger brother Eugène was born a few days ago, on the seventh. We long to see them again, may this war end so that we can truly live once more. »
« Fernand, Gaston, who wants to speak? »
Gaston interrupts his elder brother: « We’re from Calais, our father is a tailor and our mother stays at home. »
« For saying such ordinary things, you could have kept quiet, » replies Fernand. « There is no shortage of work at home for hardworking people. After the war we want to marry and have children, we want to leave behind all these horrors we see and live through day after day. »
They continue talking for a long while, rise and disappear into the mist. I wake with my heart heavy and my thoughts confused. It takes me some time to regain my footing. I hold tightly to the cushion beside me, the minutes pass, I swallow the alcohol in one gulp but I still have not regained my peace of mind. I go to the window and throw it wide open. The crisp air, the laughter of children in the park, the calm and serenity of this place reassure me, I am home.
A rebrousse temps généalogie 