A/N: I don't own Hogan's Heroes and I don't get paid for this; it is truly a labor of love.

Sometimes a guy just needs a little boost of confidence...

December 24, 1943

The forest had never seemed so dark and deep, and although there was snow on the ground, a warm front moving through had caused a thick fog to rise, obscuring the outlines of the little clearing. Andrew shivered and reflected glumly that this was no place to be spending Christmas Eve, wartime or not.

Colonel Hogan looked around and sighed. "No help for it, men. The cache isn't here, and what's worse, I think we're lost."

"Lost?" LeBeau's voice rose to a squeak. "You cannot be serious!"

Kinch sighed too. "I'm afraid he's right, Louis. And now that I think about it, those map coordinates don't really make sense, considering the distance Karl and his group would have had to cover—carrying all that equipment too."

"Bloody 'ell!" Newkirk muttered. "And I know just the bloke who could manage to bollix up those coordinates."

All of the Heroes turned to look at Andrew, and he gulped.

Colonel Hogan said quietly, "Carter, did you happen to transpose the numbers of the coordinates when you wrote them down?"

Andrew gazed at his commander, a cold horror creeping over him that had nothing to do with the fog. "Oh, no, sir! I wrote them down exactly—I mean, I think I wrote them down exactly—I mean..."

Newkirk threw up his hands and turned away. "Blimey! It's bloody Leedingham all over again!"

The icy darkness of LeBeau's eyes was visible even through the swirling mist. "You have done it again, imbecile!"

Kinch just shook his head.

The Colonel said, as he always did on such occasions: "All right, all right, it could've happened to anyone." But you could tell his heart wasn't in it.

As the scope of the disaster became clear to Andrew, he could hear snippets of past conversations in his head, and they all had to do with the same subject: Carter's incompetence.

"Don't tell me. You forgot to put film in the camera."

"You lost the compass?"

"You didn't set the time fuse?"

"How stupid could one guy be?"

"Why don't you join the other side?"

It was the same story tonight, only much, much worse this time. They really needed the equipment in that cache, equipment which had been obtained with great difficulty by the Underground, and Andrew had blown it yet again. And the fog was getting heavier by the minute.

Finally Colonel Hogan made an executive decision. "We're just going around in circles in this fog; a few more steps and we might stumble into an enemy patrol. Everyone find a log or something and sit down. We might as well take a rest right now."

Andrew sank down onto a mossy hump, and he noted sadly that the others pointedly found places to sit as far away from him as possible. No wonder they didn't want to join him; he was such a screw-up. A loser. A misfit among professionals.

Andrew hung his head; he was dejected, and so very tired. He closed his eyes...

Two shimmering figures appeared out of the fog. One was a tall, slender black-haired lady whose aristocratic features proclaimed her Sioux ancestry, and the other was a plump little Hausfrau. Both were smiling at him.

Andrew sat up straight, stunned. It sort of takes a guy's breath away when his grandmothers show up in the middle of the night. In the middle of Germany. In the middle of World War Two.

"Oma! Kunsi!" he gasped.

"Hello, Little Deer," said Kunsi. Flower-of-the-Forest Carter was as strong and vibrant as ever, and she raised her hands slightly, as if conveying a blessing.

Klara Breitmeyer also looked just the same as ever, white-haired and rosy and clad with a crisp white apron over her calico dress. Andrew could almost smell the gingerbread baking.

"Guten Abend, mein Kind." Oma peered at him closely. "You look so thin! Are they not feeding you at that prison camp of yours?"

Andrew didn't respond to this because that was the way Oma had always greeted him, even when he had been a relatively well-fed child in North Dakota. And he had a more serious concern.

"Oma, Kunsi—why are you here? You're—you're not dead, are you?"

Kunsi looked offended. "My grandson the genius, and he can't tell the difference between a ghostly visitation and a dream?"

Oma clucked her tongue. "Such talk! Of course we are not dead, Andreas! Didn't you get the woolen stockings I knitted you for Hanukkah?"

"And the long underwear that I sent you for the Cold and Dark Moons?" Kunsi sighed and turned to her companion. "I expect the Red Cross is very busy this time of year, Klara. We must make allowances for the child."

Andrew sighed too, but with relief. "Gosh, I'm glad to hear you're not dead. I mean, I know you're both real old and all that, but it sure was a shock to think..."

"Little Deer!" Kunsi regarded him sternly. "We don't have much time, so you must listen."

Oma nodded. "Ja, Flower is correct. Andreas, you have been uselessly blaming yourself for a mistake. You must not allow mistakes to overshadow the great gift that you possess."

"A great gift? Me?" Andrew stared at the two women. "I don't have any gifts. I'm just me, Andrew Carter."

"Yes, you are indeed Andrew Carter," Kunsi nodded. "But you can be anyone you want, because not only are you able to speak many tongues, you understand what is in the heart of your fellow man." Her voice grew softer as she faded into the mists.

"I can be anyone I want? What do you mean?" Andrew strained to see, but Kunsi had vanished.

"Anyone, Andreas." Oma was fading away as well. "Remember Hans Wagner and Kompanie C? And the Doktor who examined Colonel Klink? And the Major who stopped that convoy? You can be anyone you need to be."

Both of his grandmothers had disappeared, but a chuckle emerged from the mists. "And, Little Deer: you made no mistake with the map coordinates tonight."

Andrew's eyes snapped open. A faint noise had roused him from the vision, or the dream, or whatever the heck it was, and he could see the noise had alerted Colonel Hogan and the others as well.

The Colonel lifted one hand, indicating the need for silence. And they could hear it more clearly now: stumbling footsteps crashing through the underbrush! The sounds grew ever closer, and Andrew got to his feet, not knowing what to expect.

All at once a young couple burst into the clearing, wild-eyed and gasping for breath, the woman clutching a bundle to her breast. And the reason for their terror was all too apparent: booted feet were rapidly approaching.

In the blink of an eye, Colonel Hogan swiftly guided the couple behind the only shelter available, a ragged-looking bush at the edge of the clearing. Meanwhile Kinch, Newkirk and LeBeau drew their weapons and took up defensive positions.

Andrew, on the other hand, did none of those things. He had no time to prepare, no facial disguise of mustache or eyeglasses, no official-looking uniform. He had none of the things that helped give him confidence when confronting the enemy.

But he did have two grandmothers who had faith in him. So he stepped to the edge of the clearing, and shouted: "HALT!"

The sounds approaching the clearing abruptly stopped somewhere in the distance. "Who is that?" a rough voice demanded.

"Major Lindenfelder, Gestapo," Andrew informed the unseen pursuers in a crisp, authoritative, and yet bored tone of voice. "I must give you warning, whoever you are."

There was a silence for two heartbeats, then the voice said sullenly, "Lieutenant Keisler, Third Division, SS. Warn us of what, Herr Major?"

"In the forest between us there lies a bog," said Andrew. "I do not know how deep it is, and I am sure you would not wish to find out for yourself. May I suggest that you carefully retrace your footsteps, rather than continue on your present course?"

A brief discussion ensued between the unseen owner of the voice and his companions. Finally Keisler said, "We are in pursuit of a dangerous enemy of the Reich, Herr Major. He and his wife must be nearby!"

"I have seen no one," said Andrew. "Perhaps the bog took care of that little problem for you, ja? In any case, it is far too foggy to safely pursue anyone. I really believe you should take my advice, Lieutenant; our little encounter tonight will be reported to headquarters, of course."

Another silence, then: "Jawohl, Herr Major."

The booted footsteps retreated and the occupants of the little clearing began to breathe again.

The Heroes put away their guns and turned their attention to the young couple, whose wild-eyed terror had been replaced by wide-eyed bewilderment. They were youthful indeed, no older than Andrew, and the shawl-wrapped bundle the woman was clutching turned out to be an infant, no more than a few weeks old.

Each of the Heroes had an opportunity to chuck the baby under the chin while the woman smiled shyly. "Thank you so much for helping us," she said. "Although I do not understand why you did."

"Well, it's because we're the good guys, ma'am," Andrew said earnestly. "At least, we try to be."

Colonel Hogan glanced at him with a half-smile and then turned to the young couple. "I can't tell you who we are," he told them quietly. "But I can tell you that we work with the Resistance effort here in Germany."

"That is what I wished to do," said the young man sadly. "But while we were at Heiligabend services tonight we were warned that the SS had found my printing press." He sighed. "And now there is a price on my head, and my family is in danger."

"Looks like you'll have to continue your work elsewhere," said Colonel Hogan briskly. "I'm thinking London would be a good place."

The young man and his wife looked at each other, and then at Hogan. "London?" stammered the young man.

"We'll do our best to get you there, mate," said Newkirk.

"Mais oui!" LeBeau agreed. "We must get them to a safe house tonight, though."

"Right," said Kinch. "Looks like the mist is clearing a bit. What do you say, Colonel?"

"Colonel Hogan grinned. "I say we'd better get moving, as soon as we can figure out where the hell we are."

The young woman chuckled as she cuddled her baby close. "At least we can help you with that. We're a few miles from Bettelheim, on the northwest side."

Kinch checked his compass and looked up with a smile. "Okay, I've got a pretty good fix on our position now. Say, we never thought to ask: what are your names?"

"I am Josef," the young man said, and looked with pride at his wife and child. "And this is Maria."

"What's the baby's name?" asked Andrew, as he tickled the infant's chin once more.

Josef looked at Maria, and she said, "We have not yet had him christened. So it depends on one thing." She smiled at Andrew. "What is your name?"

By the time the little family was deposited at the safe house it was dangerously close to roll call, and the Heroes had no opportunity to discuss the events of the night before. They had only time to exchange their civilian clothing for their customary uniforms before Schultz announced Appell.

Andrew was sleepily standing in the back row next to Kinch, waiting for Schultz to complete his laborious count of the residents of Barracks 2 when Colonel Hogan looked back over his shoulder.

"By the way, Carter, you did good last night," the Colonel said with a smile. "I think Major Lindenfelder might come in very handy in the future. And, Carter..."

"Yes, sir?"

"Merry Christmas."

A/N: In the episode "D-Day at Stalag 13", Carter takes on the persona of Major Lindenfelder, one of his most inspired German officer impersonations (and my personal favorite).