The Second Truce

By Tunir Bhattacharya

December 24th ,18:00 hours. It was bone-chilling cold that day. Strong gusts of wind blew from the North, freezing everything that came in its path. But despite this, the atmosphere inside the ship remained warm. Crewmen mostly stayed in the quarters, singing songs, playing cards, or engaging in meaningless palavers. Everybody was excited, for tomorrow was Christmas, and they could decorate the ship with little pieces of paper and cheap ready-to-assemble plastic trees. I too was inside the quarter that day, discussing my holiday plans with Thomas and Harry after we reached home.

“First thing I’m going to do is to give my girlfriend a huge kiss” Harry said. “Can’t wait at all. What about you, Thomas?”

“Me? Oh, I’d sit with my dad in the garden talking about what we did here.” Thomas replied. He’s always wanted to write a letter home, but every time an American vessel tried reaching us it was sunk by a German ship. Every time I heard of another one being sunk; I couldn’t help but think about the Lincoln convoy. It stupefied the enemy so hard that they ran to build new boats, or so I heard.

As much as all of the crew wished to spend the jolly occasion with their families, we weren’t allowed, for in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean, there was nothing but kilometers of ocean, still holding on to its royal blue after being choked with oil and debris every day.

A few minutes later an echo was heard inside of the ship as a few men started singing “Auld Lang Syne”. Few more joined in, accompanied by a handful others, until we found ourselves all singing with a festive heart. Yes, everyone was excited about tomorrow.

We had just finished singing when our unity was applauded by the rush of the cold Atlantic wind. Some threw their hands over their faces, while some ran behind the bunks to shield themselves from the freezing wind. A man in a heavy black suit and a white cap entered, followed by another one with the same outfit. He closed the door behind him as he entered.

It took us a while to get back on our feet from the cold shock we suddenly experienced. I could hear Thomas sneezing and sniffing beside me.

“That was quite some melody there, I must say” One of the men responded.

“Captain in the quarters!” A man from the front yelled. He got back quicker than I did. Almost instantly, the shivering men ran to the front with their arms glued to their bodies, and their chin up. I did the same, and I found Thomas on the other side of me doing the same, sniffing but more silently and more slowly, as if to remain furtive.

The ship Captain nodded his head again.

“Very well, that’s very well. I understand that you boys are excited for tomorrow, but you must remember, we’re still in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. I don’t want to see an unsynchronized effect when we’re faced with some danger.” His words slightly swept the festive mood away, but none disputed him, for we knew that he spoke the truth. What good is a man if he’s 6 feet under the ocean?

“However, I would like to mention that we have chocolates, and cakes stored for tomorrow.” He continued. It managed to bring the mood back, for I could see some slight smiles and head nods among the crowd.

“But if I find any one of you tonight down in the mess hall you’ve had it from me.” He tried to sound threatening. After taking one final glance at us, he said, “I’ll be in my cabin if you need me”, dismissed us, and left.

His exit was again accompanied by the chilly cold air, but none dared to move after the captain left their sights. The moment the door closed, everybody broke off from their attention pose and went re-engaged in their palavers, some complaining about the harsh wind outside.

Time passed, and everybody started gearing up to decorate the ship in the cold weather. I put on my extra-thick long sheepskin coat, my sailor’s hat, black leather boots, and went towards the aft of the ship, where I sat beside an anti-aircraft gun, piercing the night sky with its long 20mm barrels.

The jovial mood was enjoyable to breathe in, but I always felt a different sense of pleasure looking at the stars in the night sky. The glimmering shines of the glitter-filled sky was something that could be seen only at a quiet place like the distent ocean.

But not everything lasts long, and neither did this stillness. As I was basking under the stars, somebody screamed “U-BOAT!” and then all hell erupted. The men by the cabin ran to their designated locations, while those already at them started frantically reloading their guns. The men by the anti-submarine guns quickly got into position, and the gun turrets rotated in the direction under the gunnery officer’s order.

I was sitting towards the side of the expected enemy, my eyes ready to shoot anything that popped up. And slowly but surely, I could make out a big construct rising from the water, then the big hull.

But something looked odd. Or rather, I was sure something was odd. The submarine had completely surfaced and was travelling parallel to our ship, at a very close distance. The ominous presence of the U-boat creeped me out and I wanted it destroyed, but firing orders hadn’t been given.

All around me I heard silent conversations about the German vessel. “Do we fire anyway? It’s right in front of us”, I heard my gun-mate say. I was equally confused towards the bridge as they were to the unnatural movement of the submarine.

I peeked my head over the gun in front of me and found every port-side gun facing the submarine, eyeing it with hatred, and perhaps even fear. If the chilly Atlantic wind wasn’t enough to quiet down crewmates, the eerie silence was, as perhaps this could be a diversion for other U-boats to attack us.

But nothing happened. We did not do anything, neither did them. But we kept staring at it, never taking a finger off from the gun trigger. I looked behind me and saw the starboard side guns scanning the sky and the sea, for upcoming danger.

Minutes after my observation, a rasp metallic noise filled the air. It was the submarine, and its hatch was open. An afraid man in a bright blue uniform poked out, both hands in the air. I examined him thoroughly for any handheld explosives as much as I could from our ship.

The German climbed down the fin and onto the stern of the hull where he took control of a flashlight used for morse-code transmission, and shined towards the bridge of our ship. Murmured whispers about the strangeness of his actions were now all around me, while my gun was kept aimed at the hatch opening.

“Beep beep….beep boop boop boop…beep…beep..boop boop beep….boop”

The light flickered on and off to relay a message. I peeked at the bridge again and saw a man on the bridge quickly write down something on a notepad with a pencil. Then he tore off the page and sent another man to deliver it to the captain.

The silence filled the skies again, but there was anxiety and tension building up immensely. The German at his light, a few guns at the submarine, aimed; AA guns towards hatch opening, a few men with rifles aimed at German – all waiting for an order to attack.

2 minutes later, the speaker on our ship cackled. But it wasn’t anything we were expecting.

“This is your captain speaking. Everyone is ordered to be at ease with their guns. I repeat, everybody is ordered to be at ease with the guns.” Everybody was stoked. They were all confused, looking at each other and muttering. But it was the captain’s order, so one by one, slowly, everybody let off their aim from the German the opening of the fin. But we stayed alert. All the American eyes were fixed on the German. For reassurance, I had my left hand clutched on to the pistol strapped at the back. You never knew when a German was speaking the truth. I looked over to my left and found one who still has the gun trigger of their rifle gripped.

The speaker crackled again. “None shall shoot him”. Almost immediately after that, our ship turned starboard by a gentle angle and started accelerating, leaving the German and the U-boat behind in the ominous, dark waters.

I could see the German’s hair blowing under the cold wind. It was slightly weird; he looked almost like an American, even better looking than a few. It’s a weird thing, war. It makes us fight among ourselves to achieve a sense of victory, only by treading upon the most macabre of the roads.

Once the German and his submarine were at a satisfactory distance from our ship, everyone broke off from their piercing stance and rushed to their familiars, discussing about the incident. Someone went to inquire the bridge about the incident, only to return empty-handed. The captain refused to tell us the context, and all of us were left in the dark. I let go of my pistol and looked back at the stars, with an interrogative mind. What happened? There were multiple possibilities to what could’ve happened, but it seemed that a resolution for a peace treaty before Christmas was the unanimous decision.

A Second Christmas Truce dawned upon us, under the dazzles of the night sky, but it was much more silent, much less tactile, and much less violent. But the true question still remained: What was the message? Was it truly a peace? Or a sympathetic German telling us about the lurking dangers ahead? We may never know…. or will we?

By Tunir Bhattacharya