This remarkable gentleman is called Alfred Anderson. During the First World War he served with the 5th Battalion The Black Watch from the tender age of 18. Living to the grand old age of 109, he was the last man to pass who served during the 1914 Christmas Day Truce.
In October 1914 he left his home in Newtyle, Angus, and with school friends embarked on the long journey to the frontline — a train from Dundee to Southampton, a ferry to Le Havre. Although his unit was billeted at the time of the Truce, he still at the age of 108 had vivid memories of that iconic Christmas Day, recalling the following during a newspaper interview in 2004.
I remember the silence, the eerie sound of silence. Only the guards were on duty. We all went outside the farm buildings and just stood listening. And, of course, thinking of people back home. All I'd heard for two months in the trenches was the hissing, cracking and whining of bullets in flight, machine-gun fire and distant German voices. But there was a dead silence that morning, right across the land as far as you could see. We shouted "Merry Christmas," even though nobody felt merry. The silence ended early in the afternoon and the killing started again. It was a short peace in a terrible war. — Alfred Anderson, 2004
The Princess Mary Box
Up until his death he treasured the brass box gifted to all serving troops at Christmas 1914 from Princess Mary, embossed with her image and filled with cigarettes.
I'd no use for the cigarettes so I gave them to my friends. A lot of the lads thought the box was worth nothing, but I said someone's bound to have put a lot of thought into it. Some of the boys had Christmas presents from home anyway, but mine didn't arrive on time. — Alfred Anderson
The Friend He Never Stopped Missing
Even decades later, Alfred harboured painful memories about the war.
"I saw so much horror," he said despondently, shaking his head. "I lost so many friends," he stated with deep regret. One particular incident still resonated with him, leaving him with what he called "a sore heart." It occurred when, while on leave, he visited the family of a dead friend to offer his condolences. Although knowing them well, he remembered receiving a cool reception.
I asked if they were going to ask me in and they said no. When I asked why, they just said, "Because you're here and he's not." That was awful. He's one of the lads I miss most. — Alfred Anderson
Légion d'Honneur
In 1998 Alfred Anderson received France's highest military honour — the Légion d'Honneur — for his services during the First World War. But 90 years on, it was still painfully evident that the experience still haunted him.
I'll give Christmas Day 1914 a brief thought, as I do every year, and I'll think about all my friends who never made it home. But it's too sad to think too much about it. Far too sad. — Alfred Anderson, 2004, bowing his head to hide tear-filled eyes
With six children, Alfred lived a full life that spanned three centuries. But his painful recollections go to prove that war offers no real escape.
Alfred Anderson
Born 25 June 1896 · Died 21 November 2005