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Hogan
"Com'on Uncle Robbie, it's Christmas, ge' up!"
Colonel Robert E. Hogan pulled the comforter from his head and opened one eye peeking at the over-eager, tousled haired, seven-year-old boy. "Go away. It's not Christmas yet."
"Uh HUH! It is, and you're goin' to miss it. You've been here a whooooole week and done nothing but sleep. Com'on Uncle Robbie, it's time to get up!" the boy replied in a screaming whisper.
Hogan smiled and let out a false sigh. Slowly, he lifted up the comforter and covers, knowing he was tormenting the kid, and leisurely sat up in bed. He was in a mid-languid-stretch when a dark-haired young woman, dressed in a smart red dress, came to the door.
"Stevie, you know we told you to let your uncle sleep in. The presents can wait. You can go and play quietly with Lucy until we're all up. Now scoot." The last part was delivered with a soft pat on the boy's pajama'd bottom directing him out of the room.
"Presents? Stevie, why didn't you tell me there would be presents," Hogan looked at the kid in mock surprise. "Gee, Susie, if it was up to you, you would have me miss Christmas" He got up and gave his sister, Susan a peck on the cheek. Stevie had stopped in the hall and waved behind his mother.
"Like you would miss anything exciting," Susie smiled then turned to include Stevie who had stopped in the hall. "Both of you get dressed. Gram's cooking breakfast. We eat first and then the presents." As she turned back to her brother, Stevie grimaced until his mother again turned to look at him. He quickly ran down the hallway and disappeared in a room at the end.
Hogan copied Stevie's grimace. "Gee, Sis, you're no fun."
"And you are incorrigible." She retorted and quickly and lightly flicked his nose with her index finger then turned to go down the stairs. "Hurry up or you'll miss Christmas," she called up from the stairs.
Hogan quickly showered and shaved; trading off the luxury of hot water for the time with family. He then got dressed in denim dungarees and a flannel plaid shirt. It was a far change from the khaki's he was while in the service. He pulled on his warm, red, woolen socks then put on his brown boots. Yep, they were as far from his uniform as possible.
Downstairs, he passed the living room with filled with the scent of pine from the tall, gaily decorated Christmas tree in the corner. Framed in the big, picture window was a thick blanket of snow. Looking in the window, waving, was the snowman Hogan and his nieces and nephews had built the day before.
"He's the bestest snowman, Uncle Robbie!" cried 5-year-old Lucy yesterday. "Isn't he just the bestest?"
"Naw, he ain't," replied Tommy at 12-years-old, the eldest of the cousins.
"Isn't," corrected Hogan. He may be accused of corrupting his nieces and nephews in many ways, but it wasn't going to be in grammar!
"Isn't," repeated Tommy. "Tell us about the time you made a snowman to cover up the tunnel you were hiding from the Jerries, that was the bestest, I mean best!"
Smiling while reliving the past day, Hogan walked through the hallway following the smell of breakfast and fresh coffee, to the back of the house where the kitchen was. A older woman, his mother, was standing at the stove, wearing a festive green dress with a neatly starched white apron protecting it. Her silver hair was pulled loosely in a bun in back although the small curls that had escaped from the comb back were framing her face. After watching her for a few minutes, quietly Hogan snuck behind his mother. Reaching around her, while delivering a peck on the cheek, he quickly snatched one of the cooked sausages.
"Robert! Those are for breakfast!" She scolded while lightly slapping his hand. "Just for that, you can go and help your brother shovel the snow from the walk."
Just then a dark haired man entered the back door to the kitchen. "Too late. I just finished. If Rob knows anything, it's timing!" He laughed as he stomped snow from his boots on the woven rush mat near the door. This was Hogan's eldest brother, George.
"Well, then all of you can get out of the kitchen, and out of my way until breakfast. Shoo!" Hogan's mother then took her apron in both hands and started to shoo them both out of the kitchen as if she were shooing her hens into the coop.
"Okay, okay, we know where we're not wanted." Laughed Hogan. George and Hogan then retreated to the living room. Hogan wandered around the room taking it all in. He idly picked up the Christmas cards and reread them. The Joyeaux Noel of course came from LeBeau and Mayra. Even then, he couldn't keep back the involuntary shudder that happened every time he thought of her. Best of luck to LeBeau, a far braver man then anyone he knew.
The Happy Christmas was from Newkirk. He had given up any hope for a show business career after the war. He was too old and had been away too long. Newkirk was now working for a security firm as an advisor. He was recruited by companies and banks to show them where there were weak spots in their security. He was now picking locks and breaking into safes legitimately now.
Carter had sent a Christmas photo with a long letter telling Hogan about his family, he now had, what? Five kids now? He told about his small drugstore in Muncie, Indiana. About the many customers and foibles. His wife had written a cherry Merry Christmas at the bottom. Hogan looked at the photo again. Carter's wife was a sweet faced, brown-haired, pretty girl. Not beautiful, but sweetly pretty. His kids all looked like her but with dark blond hair like Carter's.
Then there was the "mysterious" Fröhliche Weihnachten. Hogan shook his head. You'd think if you wanted to stay hidden you wouldn't send Christmas cards or sign them with someone who knew your handwriting. Commandant Klink had a lot to learn. Hopefully he'd learn it and stay safe. "Und ein glückliches Neues Jahr to you, Klink." Hogan whispered. Hopefully, the fool would stay out of trouble for at least another year.
Schultz had sent a large parcel of gifts for Hogan's nieces and nephews. Apparently the Schotzie Toy Company was back in business and doing quite well.
Hogan frowned. Nothing from Kinchloe. He guessed he shouldn't expect anything after their release from camp, but still. A postcard or something. They had spent death fearing moments together didn't that count for something?
Before he got immersed into depression, Susie called out to her brothers that breakfast was ready. Hogan followed the shrill screams of the kids to the dining room.
"After Breakfast, Grams said we could open presents!" gleefully announced little Lucy.
"Really? I thought she said after church tonight." Hogan teased.
"Oh, so you will be going with us after all," his mother said sounding surprised.
"Uh, I was teasing. You really are going tonight?" Hogan tried to backpedal. After all, his family wasn't usually very religious. They rarely even made it to Easter and Christmas services.
His sister came up behind him with a dish loaded with sausages, "I wrote and told you she had been going to church every Sunday and holiday since you were captured. The least you can do is go to church and give thanks for your release."
His mother eyed his attire. "Are you going to wear your blue suit or uniform?" The meaning was obvious: he would be changing his clothes.
"I don't think my blue suit will fit me anymore, Mom." Hogan sighed. "I guess it'll be the uniform," he added reluctantly.
Breakfast was one of the most delicious he'd ever remembered. Maybe it was the company; the atmosphere. Corny as it sounded, nothing beat home cooking. Not even LeBeau's cooking.
After breakfast came the presents. Hogan got some shirts, new pajamas and neatly hemmed handkerchiefs (these were hand made from his nieces, Lucy and Maggie, with a little help from Mom, Susie confided.). But, Hogan was more interested in the train set that Tommy, Stevie, George and Jim, his brother-in-law, were playing with. "Show us how you blew up the tunnel, Uncle Robbie," cried Stevie.
"NO! There will be no exploding tunnels or anything in this house. Do. You. Hear. Me?" shouted Mom over the Christmas din of caroling, giggles, laughing, and various other noises from unidentified objects.
"Yes, Ma'am," all the males dutifully responded.
Later the day was spent playing in the snow, visiting with neighbors and after a large lunch, napping by the fireplace in the living room. Hogan was awakened by a nudge from his sister. "Time to get changed. We'll be going to church soon."
Hogan yawned, "Yeah, yeah. Any calls come in when I was sleeping?"
Susie looked at her brother perplexed, "Don't you think we'd wake you up if anything important came?"
Hogan nodded then made his way toward the stairs. His brother George stopped him. "It's a Sergeant Kinchloe for you." He was holding the phone receiver in his hand.
"Kinch? I knew he wouldn't forget!" Hogan excitedly taken the receiver from George's hand.
"Colonel? London has a job for us!" the familiar voice sounded urgent.
Hogan was confused. A job? It was Christmas! He'd stopped doing jobs for London a while ago. He was again nudged.
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Now he was being shaken by a very determined black sergeant. "Colonel, sorry to wake you, but London has a job for us. They say it's urgent."
Hogan sat up in the cold room he used as an office, bedroom and sitting room. Gone were the festive lights, the tree, and family. What remained were bare wooden walls, papered with pictures torn from magazines, from postcards and photos. His comfy bed was replaced by a crude wooden bunk with a mattress that could have been a comforter covered by a wool blanket for a sheet and another for well, a blanket. Hogan sighed, "it's like the song said: 'I'll be home for Christmas if only in my dreams.'"
Finis.