“Suffer the little children to come unto me....”
But only think! That was said two thousand years ago, and yet ... and yet....
Christmas is near, the third Christmas. Mona reads in the newspaper that it has been agreed by the Marshal and generals commanding on both sides of the Western Front that there shall be a four hours’ truce of the battlefields on Christmas Eve. How splendid! A truce of God in memory of what happened two thousand years ago! Why couldn’t they have it in the camp also? She suggests the idea to Oskar.
“Glorious! Why can’t we?” he says.
He will find a way to put the matter up to the Commandant, and then he will speak to the prisoners.
Since the prisoners have been set to work they have been living a more human life in their amusements also. Every compound has its band. The guards have their band, too. Mona hears from Oskar that the Commandant consents.
“It’s Christmas! God bless me, yes, why not?” he says.
The prisoners are delighted, and the guards agree to pray with them.