The third part 'Christmas' is one the most affecting stories of the music stand-up tragedy "Svetley" ('Brighter'). These are the bits and pieces of the soldiers' letters from the battle-front, written during the First World War, and the characters that were born in the author's mind. This is the fate of two boys and the story about the true miracle and the real war. This is the fragment that listeners often mix up with something they've read by Remarque. This is God that didn't leave us. This is pain.
What if once the war is declared but no one comes to fight in it? Or if the soldiers suddenly decide they are tired to kill each other and just go home? Oh, this would be a catastrophe!
When I was 13, two letters from the Western front came to our address.I should say, life was quiet at that time and my mother and I didn't often get letters. It happened before the first bombs fell upon London in 1915, and by the sad coincidence our little stone house got in their way -
with a fireplace full of ashes, a tiny orchard, the unfinished darning, and old wooden toys - horse heads on sticks and theatrical swords which we liked to use playing war with my brother. Then these simple and lovely things surrounded us, and I climbed with my legs onto the
creaking armchair to read the first letter to my mom. It was written with a beautiful firm handwriting
of my elder brother Mark.
He wrote: 'Dear Christian! I hope you and mom are doing well and I wish you happy Christmas, though
I know the letter will come much later. I don't want to scare you with stories about the terrors of war that is like hell. Today I want to tell you about the miracle.
The true miracle that happened just on the front line on the Christmas eve of 1914. When the daylight faded, something strange happened in the German trenches.
We couldn't believe our eyes - they set the Christmas trees and decorated them with garlands and candles.
The words were unfamiliar, but the music was the same:
Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht! Alles schläft, einsam wacht...
We were so surprised and then joined in from our trench:
Silent night, holy night, all is calm...
At first, the Germans went silent and then they started to laugh and shout 'Happy Christmas, English!' And then something incredible happened. Everyone went out of their trenches and started to shake hands and wish
happy Christmas, exchanging presents: our canned goods for their cigarettes, their sweets for our alcohol.
I wanted to be kind. I would give anything as a present.
I had nothing, so I just gave a button from my uniform to a German guy and showed him the picture of my family,
and he treated me with some biscuits his fiancee had made for him. Joseph who was a hairdresser in peacetime was making haircuts for Bavarian boys. Someone was playing football.
Our commander ordered to take all the dead from both sides, who had been lying there for a couple of weeks, and bury them in a Christian way. Later on the memorial service, we stood side by side - the English, the German, just ordinary people. Gardeners, hairdressers, farmers - sons and brothers someone was waiting for at home.
The artillery was silent, the snow was falling slowly
and no one even thought of starting to shoot. And that night I was sure God hadn't left us and someday there will be a time with no wars, hatred, and suffering. I've never felt anything more wonderful.
Dear Christian,
the next morning the higher commanders knew about our Christmas truce and ordered to attack. Our commander was brought under court-martial and the artillery was ordered to redouble the fire on the German line.
I send you all my love and hope to see you soon. Kiss mom for me.
Mark.
The second letter we received that day was 'killed in action' notice.
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