A CENTURY later, that Flanders field looks much the same as any other in this area of the Belgian lowlands.

Sown with winter turnips, it stretches up to the Messines Ridge with a beguiling innocence and anonymity, just as it would have done before being ripped apart by shellfire in late 1914.

I know this field well. And so, it seems, does Worcestershire playwright Phil Porter, who has taken one of the greatest legends of the First World War and turned a folk legend into a contemporary parable.

With unerring skill and empathy for the subject, Porter snatches us from that last golden summer in leafy Warwickshire and literally hurls us into the mud of the Ypres Salient.

For there are no leaves in Plugstreet Wood… neither are there birds to be found among these skeletal stumps. In this miserable desert of murdered Nature, talk is cheap and abundant death is for free.

Yet David Garrick’s tune The Warwickshire Lads can still stir the hearts of these brave sons of the Bear as they struggle to do their duty amid the muck and bullets.

But then on Christmas Eve, the thunder of the guns is replaced by the sound of singing coming from the German trenches. The Tommies can hardly believe their ears… peace is about to break out.

Charting the progress of what would later become the most famous unofficial ceasefire in history is Second Lieutenant Bruce Bairnsfather, someone who today we might refer to as a ‘people person’. Not only that, but he’s also a fine cartoonist to boot.

Joseph Kloska reaches into the soul of the man with ease, exploring every emotional nuance of a sensitive individual who finds himself plucked from sun-dappled lanes and cast into the fires of Hell.

His character ‘Old Bill’ – the reluctant hero of the countless cartoons that would later guarantee their creator undying fame – is played with glorious resignation by Gerard Horan.

He is the epitome of the ‘old sweat’, the walrus-whiskered veteran who has seen and done all there is to soldiering apart from being killed.

Porter thankfully avoids the pitfalls of Blackadder-isation, now unfortunately a major hazard for all serious playwrights. Erica Whyman’s flawless direction and Mark Warby’s expert historical guidance also ensure that the merest hint of a cliché is soon lost in no man’s land.

Interestingly, Nick Haverson’s Leutnant Kohler eloquently argues the case for Germany’s prosecution of the war, which even leaves the usually highly vocal Bairnsfather spellbound for once.

Meanwhile, another Christmas truce drama is being played out at a clearing station behind the lines as nurse Phoebe (Frances McNamee) and Matron (Leah Whitaker) fight less violent but no less heartfelt battles of conscience.

Sam Kenyon’s music is as interesting as it is diverse. Whether it’s a traditional fiddle tune such as Miss McLeod’s Reel or a cheery slice of music hall hokum back at the estaminet, he always has something to suit the occasion.

Nevertheless, the main battle honours most surely go to Worcester’s Phil Porter, who has taken an incredible moment in history and bestowed it with immortality.

The Christmas Truce runs at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, until January 31, 2015. Absolutely unmissable.