(Christmas Eve, 1917)
War never stopped, not even for a holiday. The Great War that everyone had expected to be over and done long before this point, was raging on fiercely with no end in sight. The two sides had dug in their heels in the trenches of the French countryside, neither truly gaining an inch for long.
Meanwhile, a type of war was being waged in the air. Both sides hadn't given much thought to the idea of airplanes as tools for fighting. Yet as the infamous Red Baron could attest, a plane in the firm control of a skilled pilot, was as deadly and efficient as any soldier.
And now, on Christmas Eve, word had reached the Allied high command, that the "Bloody Baron" as he was sometimes called, was at it once again even in spite of the chilling weather.
Many a brave pilot volunteered to fly off and confront the Red Baron (and hopefully shoot him down for good), but there was only one pilot the Allied commander was willing to trust, the Flying Ace, Snoopy.
It felt like forty degrees below freezing if not more, as Snoopy carefully de-iced his plane as best he could, then climbed into the cockpit of his sopwith camel. "Contact!" He shouted, and the propeller spun faster and faster! The plane skidded down the runway, building up speed, and then Snoopy pulled back on the trigger and the plane took off into the cold, night sky.
With it being the night before Christmas, churches in the villages below were ringing their bells. Upon hearing them, Snoopy couldn't help but feel a bit guilty. This was the holiest night of the year, and yet here he was, searching for the Red Baron in hopes of ending his career. An outcome that would only happen after several exchanges of gunfire, and perhaps even a trading of insults.
Yet Snoopy knew that this had to be done. The Red Baron had been to stopped in order for there to be any hope of peace in the French countryside. For without the aid of their ace pilot, the Germans would surely be demoralized and it was hoped that such would motivate them to settle for peace.
Half an hour passed and it was getting close to midnight, Snoopy was sure he'd patrolled every inch of the skies under Allied control, and even some parts that were home turf of the Red Baron and his "Flying Circus" as he called it. But there was no sign of the Baron anywhere. Was it possible that the reports of him flying on tonight of all nights had been exaggerated? Perhaps even a trick by the Central powers to lure out the Flying Ace and shoot him down?
Just as Snoopy was about to call it a night and head back to the airfield however, his ears picked up a faint but familiar sound. It was the sound of a propeller spinning madly, and the roar of plane engines drawing close. Could it be?
The answer to Snoopy's question soon presented itself in the form of gun fire! Fortunately, every shot missed, but there was no doubt in Snoopy's mind as to who had fired the rounds! "Red Baron!" He mumbled to himself.
Sure enough, the familiar red coat with the black cross on the sides presented itself to Snoopy. It was the Bloody Baron himself in all his glory, and yet here he was, all alone. How very foolish of him!
Snoopy pulled up and to the right a bit, hoping to get behind the Baron and quickly pepper him with gunfire before the Baron had a chance to react. But the icy conditions made turning difficult, the sopwith sputtered and groaned, struggling simply to stay aloft.
Taking full advantage of this opportunity, the Baron closed in from behind. Snoopy was dead in his sights, a few quick rounds from his turret would finish the Flying Ace off for good. He reached out for the trigger, ready to pull it up close and do what he'd come to do. But then, he hesitated. He could hear those Christmas Bells as clear as Snoopy could, and having grown up in Germany, the Baron himself was no stranger to Christmas celebrations. Was that he couldn't bring himself to shoot his turret?
All of a sudden, Snoopy was surprised when the Baron zoomed out in front of him and drew close enough so that Snoopy could see the Baron's face! It was now possible to see hand signals that pilots occasionally used to communicate in the heat of battle! And the Baron was giving off a signal that basically said "Fly to the East.", before he turned around and got behind Snoopy again, before Snoopy had a chance to do the same.
Dodging gunfire, Snoopy reluctantly obeyed. He kept on flying until he'd crossed the Rhine, at which point he realized what must be happening! The Baron was going to make him land behind enemy lands, and turn him over to the Germans, no doubt to be tortured for information about the Allied powers and their plans. But Snoopy wouldn't talk, they could torture him til kingdom come, and they wouldn't get a peep out of him. Plus, his sopwith was starting to run low on fuel. So reluctantly, he landed where the Baron directed him. Was this it? Was this the fate that was to befall the great Flying Ace?
Snoopy could only watch, as the Baron landed his plane beside Snoopy's sopwith and climbed out. Then he did something unexpected. He cried out in a jolly voice. "Merry Christmas, mein friend!"
Snoopy could hardly believe his ears! The Baron was wishing him a Merry Christmas?! What reason could he possibly have for doing so?! Had the Baron gone mad?!
The Baron just smiled and clapped his hands. "Mein comrades, have you prepared the holiday feast for our gracious guest?"
"Yes, your excellency, ze feast is ready." A german soldier saluted.
"Excellent," The Baron beamed, and made his way over to Snoopy. "Come, mein furry friend. Tis Christmas Eve, let us join the holiday feast prepared in your honor."
Snoopy reluctantly obeyed, all the while wondering what the Red Baron was up to. He had to have a motive behind making his sworn enemy fly all the way to the Rhine, and then invite him to a holiday feast. Was he hoping to maybe persuade Snoopy to defect?
Soon, Snoopy and the Baron were seated around a small wooden table, lined with all sorts of delicious holiday treats: Turkey, stuffing, pumpkin pie, you name it. And both their mugs were filled with root beer, foaming at the very top. Once seated, the Baron took up his mug and announced loudly for all to hear. "A toast, to mein worthy opponent, ze Flying Ace. May his Christmas be as merry as mine."
Snoopy was at a complete loss for words! This wasn't the Red Baron he knew! Who was this imposter, and what he had done with the ruthless, cold blooded Red Baron of old?
"I know what you are thinking, herr Beagle," The Red Baron commented, snapping Snoopy from his mental ponderings. "You are thinking: 'Why is the Baron being so nice to me tonight?'. The answer is simple, tis Christmas Eve, the holiest night of the year. Any other night, we would be up there, fighting and shooting until one of us would be forced to retreat. But tonight is holy and scared, a night that should not be sullied with senseless violence. Just for one night, we should put aside our differences. After all, we both want the same thing in the end, what this holiday stands for: Peace on Earth, and goodwill toward men. So, will you join me in this toast to the holiday?"
Very slowly and very reluctantly, Snoopy obeyed, lifting his glass and clanking it with the Baron's. They then sipped down the root beer, and helped themselves to the feast, while the Baron's fellow Germans refueled both planes.
When the feast was over, it was time for the Red Baron and Snoopy to depart. The Baron was quick to caution Snoopy. "Do not think zat this night changes anything between, for it does not. Next time we meet, we are sworn enemies once again, and so we shall remain until one of us defeats the other in battle, or this war comes to a close. Until then, I again wish you a Merry Christmas, and if I should not see you again in time, a happy New Year." And then with a roar, the Baron and Snoopy departed. If anyone were to ask them what had transpired on this night, they would simply say that the cold weather and icy conditions had made airplane combat too difficult. And since they wanted a fair fight, they were going to wait until better conditions presented themselves.
None would ever know of their secret holiday toast, for the Germans who had participated in it had sworn to secrecy.