Fiddlerman said:

Learn to play "The First Nowell" for Violin also known as:

• The First Noel

More to come. 

I have read several accounts of an incident that occured during the first winter of the First World War. The Germans and British faced each other across no man's land at Christmas eve. Carols were being sung in both trenchs, the troops from both sides joined their voices together for German/English versions of The First Noel, and Silent Night. Also small fir trees were displayed on the edges of the trenches lit with candles. The next day, Christmas, some troops left the trenches and crossed no man's land and exchanged small gifts with the enemy. The hatred for each other was well seated for the next few Christmases and it never occured again. I have read both that this is a myth, and I have read it as fact in reference books. An excellent book about the Ypres (ee pra) sector was written by Winston Groom (Author of "Forrest Gump") it is called Storm in Flanders. During the war over one million men were killed in an area the size of Manhattan.  I know this is WAY off topic but there is a poem in the book describing a gas attack, it is called Dulce est decourm est.

Dulce Et Decorum Est

(The full line in latin is: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori It is both sweet and beautiful to die for one"s country.

The poem discribes a gas attack.)

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,

Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,

Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs

And towards our distant rest began to trudge.

Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots

But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;

Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots

Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.
(5 9's an artillery shell, used to deliver the gas)
 

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!---An ecstasy of fumbling,

Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;

But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,

And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...

Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,

As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,

He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace

Behind the wagon that we flung him in,

And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,

His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;

If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood

Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,

Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud

Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,---

My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

To children ardent for some desperate glory,

The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est

Pro patria mori.

Wilfred Owen was an officer in the Brittish Army, he was killed leading an attack in August 1918, a few months

before the end of the war. News of his death reached his family on Armistice Day. 

Yes WW I

omg i was really scared at first.... then i realised it was just fiddlerman XD