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Many years ago, a day was dawning on a battlefield in northern France, through a fog so thick that no one could see more than a few yards from the trenches. In the night the Germans had drawn back their lines a little and the French had gone forward. But between the two positions a lonely farmhouse was till standing. As the sun rose, heavy guns began to boom. But suddenly on both sides the firing ceased and there fell a strange, dead silence. For there in the green meadow, crawling on it’s hands and knees was a little baby. It appeared perfectly happy and contented and the baby’s laugh was heard as it clutched a dandelion. Not a shot was fired that day!

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