In both Germany and France, where the truce was largely unknown to two generations, it is being studied and celebrated.
A book published in 2003, "The Small Peace in the Great War," is the first to fully exploit German source material on the truce, including previously undiscovered diaries and letters. A French production company has made a feature-length film, "Joyeux Noel," that depicts the events. It will be released next year.
Soldiers climb out of a trench in World War I. The losses from such warfare were massive on both sides.
Last Sunday, two soccer teams whose members included people from the nations whose soldiers faced each other 90 years ago met in Neuville-Saint-Vaast, a village 100 miles north of Paris. They played a match that commemorated the soccer-playing in the Christmas Truce.
An all-star team of retired French players, Varietes Club de France, beat the international team, which called itself the Selection of Fraternity, 5-2 before 2,000 spectators. It was a clear day with the temperature hovering at the freezing point, like 90 years ago.
The game was held to raise money for a monument to the Christmas Truce. The village was chosen because it was where French soldier Louis Barthas, who proposed such a monument in a famous postwar memoir, was serving in December 1914.
"I am very touched by this idea," says Christian Carion, the writer and director of "Joyeux Noel," who organized the event. "Because on the Earth there is no monument to fraternization. There is always a monument for victory. And where there is a victory there is a defeat. But a monument about fraternization -- there is not one anywhere."
It's an assertion difficult to prove. But even if there is, somewhere, a monument to making unapproved peace with the enemy, it's hard to believe the world couldn't use a second one.
Hold Your Fire
It appears there are no surviving participants of the Christmas Truce among the roughly 100 living veterans of World War I.
There is at least one man alive who witnessed it from a distance. He heard the silence.
Alfred Anderson was a "territorial" -- the British equivalent of a national guardsman -- serving in the 5th Battalion of the Scottish Black Watch Regiment in France. On Christmas he was "in reserve," behind the front lines, part of a complicated rotation that limited soldiers' time in the front-line trenches to three to seven days.
"It was very cold and very still. He said he could hear these voices shouting, carried over on the night air. What he could hear was total stillness, which he found very eerie," says Richard van Emden, an English television producer and historian who has interviewed him.
Anderson, who was wounded by an artillery shell in 1916 and discharged, is now 108. He worked as a joiner in a carpentry shop for much of his life. Today he lives by himself in a village near Perth, Scotland. "He is incredibly fit. If you met him you'd think he was about 85," van Emden says.
Also in uniform in December 1914 was Maurice Floquet, who turns 111 today and is the oldest living French veteran of World War I. He was on the Western Front in Belgium, but his part of the line did not fraternize with the Germans. What he chiefly remembers of Christmas is the menu: bread, soup, a few dates, and a bottle of red wine split among four soldiers. He was wounded twice in 1915 and discharged. He worked for many years as an auto mechanic.
In a brief interview conducted Wednesday via fax machine through a translator, Floquet said he did not learn of the truce until many years after the war.