Europe some 80 years ago was a tinder box awaiting for a spark that would ignite it into a terrible conflict known as World War I. Since the turn of the century the French had been enjoying what they dubbed "La belle Epoque" (the beautiful era). Great scientific progress and human exploration had been made. But still the mood was ominous and the clouds of war hung sullenly over Europe.

The assassination of Archduke Francis Ferdinand of Austria on June 28, 1914, at Sarajevo provided the spark that plunged Europe and much of the world into the greatest war known up to that time.

Shortly after, the "guns of August" boomed and the mighty armies of British, French, German, Russian and Austro-Hungarian empire began a relentless war that would claim millions of lives before peace was restored.

But in spite the shelling, gunfire, smoke, blood, mud and earth, a little-known miracle took place on Christmas day 1914. It was a miracle of human kindness and love.

In November of that year, Pope Benedict XIV called for a cessation of hostilities on Christ's birthday. "Impossible." Was the reply from both sides.

Kaiser Wilhelm II and the German high Command admonished their troops to "let their hearts beat to God during the coming season and keep their fists on the enemy". Meanwhile, at home, folks wondered, "How will the troops in the trenches fare?" French officers shrugged their shoulder and predicted that the sniper and gunner would be active as usual.

"Judging by present protents," the Times of London added, "It is probable that the plum pudding will be eaten under fire, perhaps in the intervals of fierce action.

When the German artillery on Christmas Eve, mounted one of the most violent bombardments on the British Lines, the stern prediction seemed likely to prove correct. But what seems impossible to those in high places, is possible for ordinary soldiers, who often long only for peace and for home. The thousands of soldiers facing each other in the mud filled trenches that stretched from the Swiss border to the North Atlantic decided to call off the war themselves.

At sundown on Thursday, a cold and frosty Christmas Eve, the firing died slowly until every gun was silent. The silence was almost eerie. What was happening?

According to reports, it was a young British soldier who first sensed that a miracle had occurred. Standing guard at midnight in an isolated outpost in Flanders, Peter Goudge suddenly heard the German troops singing "Stille Nacht, Heilige Nacht" (Silent Night, Holy Night). Goudge started singing too. Before long British and Irish troops of the British Expeditionary Forces began singing "O Come All Ye Faithful" to the cheers of the Saxon Infantry. The singing continued till all along the Western Front, former enemies were singing Christmas carols with joy and peace in their hearts.

English and Irish troops then began to notice hundreds of coloured lights strung up by the German soldiers along the barbed wire in front of their trenches. And at intervals, along the trenches brightly coloured Christmas trees brought the solemnity of the season to the war-ravaged battle ground. Private Goudge was even more startled to see a lone German soldier picking his way across the desert of barbed wire and shell holes while holding aloft a tiny Christmas tree bright with flickering candles. Leaning over the barbed wire of the British trenches he shouted in English "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas to you", shouted back the soldiers. Soon the air was filled with shouts of Merry Christmas and "Froeliche Weihnachten."

The Germans then shouted: "Come out. We will not shoot for Christmas." Timidly at first, troops of the BEF climbed out of their trenches and advanced unarmed to greet yesterday's enemies.

When they met, on a line drawn halfway between opposite trenches, the soldiers regarded each other with curiosity. Officers saluted stiffly then shook hands. The Germans clicked their heels and they bowed. Some laughed, others were tears as they embraced.

The Christmas spirit caught up quickly along the hundreds of miles of trenches. French troops shouted "Joyeux Noel!" and a French regiment band serenaded the German troops with classical music.

Belgian and German troops exchanged gifts of cigars and cheese, presents from their loved ones at home.

Christmas day dawned to the strange sight of formerly hostile soldiers exchanging gifts, good wishes and songs on the once bitterly contested battle fields. Despite the language and other barriers the spirit of Christmas overcame all. Soccer matches took place between teams from opposite armies and the Germans beat the English, 3-2. Minor officers and ordinary soldiers had photos taken with their opponents. It was difficult to tell that war had raged between these armies for five months.

Toasts with beer and wine, or tea or coffee were offered for home and family and friends.

The most popular toast though was for peace.

Soldiers on both sides agreed not to take advantage of the lull in fighting to repair barbed wire on the trenches and if a shot were fired accidentally it would not be regarded as an hostile act.

The only serious business on this day involved burying the dead. Both sides dug graves for those who had fallen, and the British supplied some wooden crosses. Then a party of Germans moved toward the British line, heads bare carrying the body of a British officer who had fallen behind their lines.

As the early Friday darkness of cold Christmas day fell on Flanders the strange mix of former enemies gathered for a sing-along. British and German forces entertained each other by singing in turn. Allied contributions ranged from "It's a long way to Tipperary" to "Home Sweet Home."

A fine German baritone overcame the difference of nationality with Schumann's "Two grenadiers" which was familiar to all. And a German cornet player warmed the soldiers' heart with popular sentimental airs.

The troops applauded each other. At times a flare would illuminate the Christmas night sky and was greeted with a new round of cheering and cap waving.

But as evening fell soldiers began to trickle back to their trenches to reluctantly resume the bitter business at hand. Tears and embraces marked the parting of thousands of soldiers who at last had found "peace on earth and good will to all men," if only for a day. The next flares shed light on a deserted "No Man's Land'.

The barbed wire looked sinister and menacing again. Death was about to replace peace.

A very young British soldier later wrote home, "They, the Germans, were really magnificent and jolly good fellows." But he ended the letter saying, "Both sides have started the firing and are enemies again. Strange, it all seems, doesn't it?"

The Christmas miracle of 1914 had ended.

The military high commands of both sides took severe measures to ensure that the warring troops would not repeat such an event in the future. There were no more Christmas miracles. But to those soldiers who took part in it, the day that war stopped for Christ's birthday, remains a cherished memory of peace on earth.