Another nap time story.

Christmas Eve 1941

There was a blizzard outside, and everyone could hear the wind whistling past the windows and doors. Inside the house, the living room was tight and cozy. A healthy fire crackled in the fireplace, casting flickering shadows against the wall. A small decorated tree sat in the corner, its scent reaching out to those close by, competing with the smell of the recently finished meal which still hung in the air.

Dressed in flannel pajamas and with slippers on his feet, Andrew Carter sat on the floor with his legs crossed. His youngest sister, Mary, sat in his lap. He rested his chin on her head and crossed his arms over her waist. A very mature twelve-year-old, she would have usually protested sitting in her big brother's lap, but this time she let it slide and even snuggled in close. The whole Carter clan was gathered together, waiting patiently as their mother put on her glasses and pulled out the family Bible. She rested it on her lap, licked her fingers, and began to flip through its pages.

The matriarch soon cleared her throat and began to read. Slowly. Deliberately. At times she had to pause to clear her throat, getting caught up with emotion.

Andrew knew it wasn't just the story of Christmas that had her all choked up. No, there was something else behind it, and Andrew was to blame. And so every time his mother paused, Andrew looked away. She could barely get out "and on earth peace, goodwill toward men" before turning away and passing the book off to her husband.

There was not much peace in the world right now, that was for sure, Andrew thought. Just over two weeks earlier, America was rocked from its complacency, and thrust into a world war. It had come as a shock to everyone. Although perhaps it shouldn't have.

Back in September of 1940, the government had instituted a peace-time draft. They must have seen the writing in the wall and knew it was only a matter of time before something happened.

A year later, in a twist of fate that was typical of his luck, Andrew had enlisted only a few days before he had received a draft notice. He had come home to help on the farm, and instead of going back to Muncie, he got roped into enlisting instead. Of course, that was the danger one faced when one actually had an uncle named Sam.

It has caused all kinds of headaches for the people filling out his paperwork. And before it was all untangled, he'd gone through two very uncomfortable physicals, been given two different serial numbers, and was nearly demoted to a sergeant. Not that he would have minded. The idea of being a lieutenant- in charge of leading men into battle- terrified him. But unlike most of the recruits who hadn't even graduated high school, he had a college education. And apparently that, as well as his ability to speak German, meant he was leadership material.

His mother, of course, had been upset with him, but it would have happened whether he enlisted or not. And, at the time, war seemed far off- something happening in the other side of the world. So she gave him her blessing and hoped that he would only have to put in the minimum amount of time before being put into the reserves.

And then Pearl Harbor happened and going off to war was not a slight possibility, but an inevitable reality. He remembered his mother writing to him, asking, among other things, if they would see him again before he was shipped off to who knew where. He had assured her that his leave for Christmas was still approved, but it would be cut short. So, tomorrow, after the presents were opened, Andrew would be back in his new uniform, and heading out. If and when he ever returned, was anyone's guess.

The Bible closed with a thud, and Andrew pulled himself back to the present. His father set the book aside and stood up. "It's time for bed," he said gruffly.

"Do we have to?" Andrew's sister, Alice, asked. "This is Andy's last night before-" She cut herself off and looked down at her hands in despair.

"We can stay up for a little bit," mother said, trying to sound cheerful. "Why don't we sing a few carols?"

"Oh yes!" Rebecca cried, clapping her hands as she jumped to her feet. "We might as well while we can. We're going to miss having a male voice when you're gone, Andy!"

"Rebecca!" Julia admonished as she hit the back of her sister's head.

"Ow!"

"Ooo, you're on the naughty list now!" Alice teased.

"There will be no fighting on Christmas Eve!" mother said, exasperated.

"I was only saying that there'll just be us girls!" Rebecca insisted.

"Maybe Dad will sing with us," Mary said hopefully.

"That'll never happen!" Rebecca snorted before lowering her voice to imitate him. "I've got too much work to do to spend my time caterwauling with you girls."

In all the commotion, Andrew saw his father slip out of the room. A moment later he heard the back door open. He debated following him, but decided he better sing a bit if only to quiet the girls down.

Mother sat down at the old piano and, together, the family sang a few Christmas songs. The girls cajoled him into a solo and he sang a few more songs before he excused himself.

Grabbing a heavy jacket and putting on some boots, Andrew went out the back door. Through the blowing snow, he could barely make out the light coming from the barn.

He trudged through the snow and paused just outside the barn. The door was slightly ajar, and even over the wind, he could hear his father talking. As quietly as he could, he pushed the door open a little further and slipped in.

Illuminated by the light of a lantern that hung on the nearby post Dad was resting on a pitchfork that was stuck in a pile of hay. His head was slightly bowed and his eyes were closed. His hat was pressed against his chest with one hand.

Was he praying?

While spiritual, his father wasn't terribly religious. Mother managed to drag him to church every so often, but for him, God was found more in nature than in a building.

"He's smart, but he doesn't know much," Dad said quietly. "And, Lord, you know his luck."

Andrew squirmed. He was praying about him. That didn't surprise him, but he felt awkward eavesdropping. He debated making a noise, but decided against it. Who was he to interrupt a conversation with God?

"Give him the strength of our ancestors, of warriors past. Protect his tender heart. And guide him safely home."

Dad nodded and put his cap back on his head.

"Gee, dad, you didn't say amen," Andrew said after a moment. Dad looked up and Andrew gave him a lopsided grin.

"Do you think he still got the message?" Dad asked.

"Oh, sure. I don't think it much matters, but you know mother- everything's gotta be done by the book."

"Well with seven children and a farm to run, I suppose rules are the only thing between us a chaos. All right then: amen."

"Amen." Andrew grabbed a pitch fork from the corner and began throwing hay into the cattle stalls. His father went back to doing the same. They worked in silence until Andrew cleared his throat. "I'll be okay, Dad. They've put this Little Deer Who Trips and Falls Through Forest in the Air Force," he said with a little snort, adopting the more appropriate version of his Sioux name. "How much trouble can I get into?"

"Perhaps you will be more Swift and Sure in the air," Dad agreed. "But Andrew…"

When he failed to continue, Andrew stopped and stuck his fork into the hay. "Yeah?"

Dad sighed and dropped his own fork before pulling Andrew into a hug. It lasted for only a moment before he cleared his throat and pushed him away, ruffling Andrew's hair. "You just do what you can to end this war quickly and come home. It's not fair to leave me here alone with all these women!"

"Don't worry, Dad. I'll be home before you know it. In the meantime, how do you feel about filling in for me in the Carter Family Choir?"

"Oh, I don't know about that."

"Aw, come on. It's easy: Oh come all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant," Andrew sang as he went back to work. His father sighed but joined in after a few bars. Together the two men sang the familiar carols of Christmas, each trying hard not to think that it could be for the last time.

Few things here: first, Larry Hovis has a beautiful voice. It's a shame we never got to hear Carter really sing, but then again, Hogan's Heroes isn't exactly a musical, is it? If you have the chance though, go to YouTube and look up the Hogan's Heroes Best of WW2 album.

Second, in one episode, Carter said he enlisted because he wanted to get in the war before it got too crowded. In another, he said he was drafted. And, although I don't know if it would even be possible for this situation to happen, I had him do both. I mean, really, Carter does have terrible luck. I might use it in another story to explain how Lieutenant Carter became Sergeant Carter.

And third, this may just be a series of Christmas stories, but it may not be completed by Christmas. (I try to do productive, real life things during nap time. It's only when I'm trapped that I get a chance to write things like this on my phone.)