 Future nature writer Henry Williamson , then a nineteen @-@ year @-@ old private in the London Rifle Brigade , wrote to his mother on Boxing Day : " Dear Mother , I am writing from the trenches . It is 11 o 'clock in the morning . Beside me is a coke fire , opposite me a ' dug @-@ out ' ( wet ) with straw in it . The ground is sloppy in the actual trench , but frozen elsewhere . In my mouth is a pipe presented by the Princess Mary . In the pipe is tobacco . Of course , you say . But wait . In the pipe is German tobacco . Haha , you say , from a prisoner or found in a captured trench . Oh dear , no ! From a German soldier . Yes a live German soldier from his own trench . Yesterday the British & Germans met & shook hands in the Ground between the trenches , & exchanged souvenirs , & shook hands . Yes , all day Xmas day , & as I write . Marvellous , isn 't it ? " 
