Cyril Winterbotham

Connie Ruzich was awarded a Fulbright scholarship to research lesser-known poetry written in England during World War I. The irony is not lost on me that soldiers endeavored to write beautiful poems despite the ravages of war. One poem Connie researched in recent years was “A Christmas Prayer (From the Trenches),” written in 1915 by an English soldier, Cyril William Winterbotham (1887-1916). In investigating the poem, she also came upon Cyril’s account of a battlefield against the backdrop of ruined houses and broken walls. He wrote, “I couldn’t help but imagine all the roofs back on and the mess cleaned up. Walter and I remarked simultaneously that the whole thing is preposterous nonsense and that we ought to leave each other in peace to enjoy the weather and go fishing. After that, we went off to try and spot a sniper and, if possible, put a bullet in him.” Like I said, the irony is not lost on me. Cyril’s Christmas poem begins by acknowledging there will be no peace, goodwill, or angelic singing on the battlefield. Only the roar of guns and the anguish of war. In the poem’s middle portion, he describes hardened soldiers drawing near “to the Babe at Christmas born” who seek aid from one “who comes with pierced feet, wearing a crown of thorns, his side a spear has torn.” The last two stanzas that follow here are written as a prayer. Cyril doesn’t ask God directly to end the war but invokes Christ’s presence in the darkest of places — “O’er death and pain triumphant yet.” We join him in the prayer to “welcome Thee to stay with us on Christmas Day.” Cyril died in battle a year later, in 1916.