A Christmas truce in the trenches, 2016

SOMEWHERE ALONG THE RED-BLUE FRONT (Dec. 25) - Fighters on both sides of this interminable conflict between partisans in red and blue were convinced Election Day would bring a merciful end to their bitter struggle. Surely, the victors would march triumphantly through a shower of ticker tape. The losers would surrender their yard signs, delete their social media accounts and retreat deep into the hills, never to be seen or heard from again.

The feud would be settled, once and for all.

But that didn't happen.

Since the election, each side has been seen digging its trenches even deeper, raising its defenses and fortifying its rigid, unmovable positions. Each day, a whistle sounds and weary combatants stumble up and over into no man's land to do battle once again. Giving not one inch.

'Electoral college!” comes the battle cry from the right lines.

'Popular vote!” comes the piercing yell across the left flank.

The battlefield is strewn with the refuse of two worlds at war. The shattered, smoking hulks of Ford F-150s and Toyota Priuses. Birkenstocks and work boots. Starbucks 'Unity” cups and Chick-fil-A wrappers. Receipts from Wal-Mart and Target. Crumpled remnants of the New York Times and pages torn from Bill O'Reilly's history books. Cans of PBR, both earnest and ironic.

I've been embedded with the 91.1 FM Vermont Regiment, a group of public radio listeners who mustered in during pledge week to join the fight. They carry their supplies and weaponry in tasteful tote bags, reflecting how much they value what they hear on 91.1.

They've seen plenty of action. They pummeled their enemies with pints of Ben & Jerry's 'No Fascists Fudge,” only to be repelled by a fusillade of raw eggs, neither cage-free nor locally sourced. The horror. The Heritage Foundation bombed us with hefty white papers on the death of liberalism. The Vermonters burned them to boil water for French press coffee.

As Christmas approached, we expected intense fighting. Already, the dueling armies had been using loud speakers to blast their enemy. From the left came Sarah McLachlan's rendition of 'Happy Holidays.” From the right, Kid Rock's interpretation of 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas.”

Three wise lawyers from each side clashed for weeks over a manger scene, briefcases swinging.

We braced for flying fruitcake. Artisanal? Hardly.

But then, something happened. Around midnight, there was silence. A voice came from the opposite trench. An Alabama volunteer had a question.

'Y'all have any vinegar over there? We're making white sauce for our barbecued chicken and we're plum out of vinegar,” the voice explained.

'Vinegar? Are you kidding? We have 12 different kinds! All brewed in small batches by a craft vingarist in Park Slope. Really brightens braised kale,” a Vermonter answered.

'Uh, all right, I'll come over to get some. Don't shoot!”

So the brave, hungry Alabamian approached. And the Vermonter brought the promised vinegar. As they stood and talked, others climbed out of their trenches.

It wasn't long before laughter could be heard. Folks started showing each other pictures of their children and grandchildren back home. They got to talking about their lives and dreams. Turns out they have stuff in common. Dogs, gardening, sports, you name it. Fans of NASCAR and European soccer discovered they each spend a lot of time waiting for something exciting to happen.

The Vermonters were smitten by barbecue. And the Alabamians became big fans of the cider vinegar pressed from no less than six varieties of heirloom apples. Kentucky Bourbon and Tennessee Whiskey flowed alongside craft beers from Portland and California chardonnay. A plate of 'special” Colorado Christmas cookies disappeared in record time.

Gifts were exchanged. A Red-stater swapped his 'Make America Great Again” hat for a book of New Yorker cartoons. A Blue-stater swapped her yoga mat for a patriotic latch hook kit from Hobby Lobby.

Soon, Christmas carols rang out between the now empty trenches. Big flakes of snow began to fall. Nobody mentioned Russia or Benghazi or you-know-who, winning you-know-what.

But then, just after dawn, the president-elect began tweeting. A few blue partisans noticed and swiftly responded. Phones started chirping with alerts. Smiles turned to grimaces. The music faded, voices raised and fingers pointed. Outrage swept over the battlefield like a wave.

'Sore losers!!”

'Lousy bigots!”

They dropped their cookies and rushed back to their trenches. The snow turned to a steady rain.

Still, for a few glorious hours, there was a Christmas truce. Combatants saw each other as people, not targets. Maybe it's a sign of hope. Perhaps …

Take cover! Incoming fruitcakes!

l Comments: (319) 398-8452; todd.dorman@thegazette, com