I wrote this on my phone while I was trapped under my napping toddler. It's just a silly little romp, but I hope you enjoy it.
The snow crunched under his heavy boot, breaking the silence of the cold winter's night. The air, crisp and clear and tinged with the smell of smoke, burned his lungs with every breath. He snuggled deeper into his scarf and glanced up. The full moon shone brightly, drowning out the stars, and the cold air seemed to create a halo around it, extending its reach. A bomber's moon.
Andrew J. Carter shivered as a wave of nostalgia washed over him. He readjusted the package under his arm and pressed onward. When he reached the door stoop, he fished his keys from his pocket and unlocked the door.
Inside, the cheery crackle of a fire greeted him. It cast its light about the room, battling a desk lamp and the Christmas tree lights for prominence. The warmth instantly made Carter's nose run, and he pulled out a handkerchief. Once clear, he could make out the smell of onions and butter, and a hint of cinnamon that wafted out from the kitchen.
Carter set his package down on the bench beside the door. He had just enough time to take off his winter gear before the patter of feet sounded off, coming closer at a manic pace.
"DADDDDDDYYY!"
Carter opened his arms as his six year old daughter, Ila May, came running into the room and practically tackled him. He held her in a hug and swung her from side to side. Then he kissed her head and set her down. "Hiya, kiddo."
His arms didn't stay empty for long, as his second daughter, Susan, replaced her older sister. She grabbed hold of his neck and snuggled in.
"Guess what! Suzy and I are making the dressing for tomorrow!" Ila announced as she grabbed the skirt of her apron and shook it a little.
"Mmmm boy, I bet it's going to be good."
"Of course it will be good. I made it. And I- what's that?" Ila titled to the side and pointed behind him to the package. "Is it a Christmas present? Who's it from? Is it from Gramma and Grampa?"
Carter plucked up the package just as Ila was about to grab it and held it away from Suzy who also tried to reach for it. "I don't know what it is," he confessed. The return address only served to confuse him more. He shook it carefully, as he had done several times before, but doing so provided no clues.
"Can we open it?" Susan asked hopefully.
"Well, I don't know." And he didn't. It was just too bizarre.
"Please!" Ila begged.
"Ila! Susan! Don't pester your father until he's had a chance to breathe!" his wife's voice called from the kitchen. "And you are not done in here, young ladies!"
The two little girls exchanged a look, and Susan wiggled out of her father's arms. Together, they scurried back into the kitchen. Carter followed. Ila and Susan stood on chairs at the table, and went back to their work of tearing bread into chunks.
Next to the table, his youngest sat in her high chair, munching on a sandwich. She squealed when she saw Carter and held up her sandwich, offering him a bite. He obliged, ignoring the urge to cringe at its soggy state, and nuzzled her head.
"What's that?" his wife, Lucy, asked, nodding at the package. "A Christmas present?"
Again, Carter held up the parcel and turned over in his hand. "I don't know."
"Well who's it from?" Lucy asked as she continued to chop at some onions.
"Hans Schultz."
Lucy stopped mid chop and set down her knife. She wiped her hands off on her apron, and then smoothed it back down over her swollen belly before waddling over. "Hans Schultz?" she repeated incredulously. "Sergeant Schultz?"
"Yeah."
"Who's that?" Ila May asked.
"Sergeant Schultz. He was a German prison guard back in the war."
"The bad guy," Lucy clarified.
Carter started in surprise. "Now hold on a minute. He may have been wearing the wrong uniform, but Schultz was one of the guys. A pal. Why without him, we-" Carter cut himself off. He had only told his wife the most very basic details of his time as a prisoner of war.
The actual details of the sabotage and rescue operation of Stalag 13 were more than top secret. After his liberation, he spent a solid month in debriefing, and was sworn several times to secrecy. Carter took his oath seriously, even though it was hard; secrets weren't exactly his forte.
The hardest thing was keeping his pride in check. To many he was just some dope who had spent the majority of the war in a prison camp. There were, of course, those who understood from their own experiences that being a prisoner was its own kind of battle. But for others, who had pictures in their heads of daring young men storming beaches and getting into dog fights, his service was dismissed. To them, he was as much a spectator in the war as those who stayed home.
It gnawed at Carter. Even if he had been a regular POW- and not a part of the most successful underground operation of the war- he had become so in the course of duty to his country. His prior service didn't count for less. His time as a prisoner had not been meaningless. But every time someone asked what he did during the war, he saw the interest die in their eyes when he said he'd been a prisoner for nearly three years.
Lucy, bless her, had taken it for what it was. He, like many others, had served bravely. Fate had simply caught up with him. As far as she was concerned, he was as much a hero as anyone. Carter had never felt the need to justify himself to her. It made keeping his secrets a lot easier. And, at the same time, a lot harder. Of all the people in the world that he wanted to tell, that deserved to know, it was her.
"What could he possibly be sending you?" Lucy's question broke him out of his thoughts.
"I don't know."
"Let's open it!" Ila suggested impatiently.
Carter peered at the package again, examining it one more time before he relented. "Yeah, all right."
Susan and Ila moved their bowl of bread out of the way to clear a place for him. Carter sat at the table, setting the box down. Lucy moved in behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders as she peered over him. The two girls climbed up onto the table, resting on their knees beside the package. Rose, in her high chair, was more interested in her sandwich than the package.
Carter dug a pocket knife out of his pocket and cut the twine off. When he opened the package, all eyes zeroed in on its contents. The only thing they could see was a note resting on top of a pile of tissue paper. Carter unfolded the note and skimmed it.
"What's it say?" Susan asked.
"Read it, Daddy," Ila demanded, then added a quick "please."
"Okay," he agreed and began reading aloud.
Dear Carter,
You are probably surprised to receive a package from me. Maybe I would be too. But, even though we were enemies, we were always friends.
"See, like I said," Carter interjected.
I ran into a mutual friend the other day. We talked about the old days over some schnapps. Of course, he could not stay long. I did not ask why. I do not want to know. I know nothing.
Hogan. Their mutual friend had to be Colonel Hogan. Who else? The Colonel was probably traipsing all over Germany, spying on the Russians, no doubt. Not that Carter would know. He hadn't spoken to the Colonel in, golly, four years at least. Come to think of it, he hadn't spoken to any of the guys in a long time.
It seemed odd that they hadn't stayed in touch. After all, they had spent three years together—eating, sleeping, blowing things up, being tortured, helping prisoners escape, stealing battle plans. They had been through it all, saving each other's lives more times than he could count.
But life was funny. It had a way of leaving the past behind. Time and distance had become their greatest enemies. The monthly phone calls became seasonal letters which became the occasional card, and then nothing. Maybe they would have a ten year reunion or something, get the gang back together. Or maybe-
"Daddy?"
Carter snapped himself out of his rambling thoughts and refocused on the letter.
We talked about all you boys and Stalag 13, and all the fun we had. I sometimes miss it- except the war, of course. I am glad that it is over. And I suppose you all could not stay at Stalag 13 during peace.
Our friend said that you had a little girl, and a baby on the way. That is nice. It is nice to hear that life goes on. I, myself, became a grandfather not two months ago. I am very proud. Being a father is fun. Being a grandfather is better.
My toy company is finally up and running. It was not easy after the war, but we managed it. And you will never guess, not in a million years, who is working for me.
"Klink."
You guessed. Didn't you? Yes, Colonel Klink. You want to know what is crazy? He is not half bad as an bookkeeper. If only he kept track of his prisoners as well as his books!
But I cannot say anything of that. Even though I know nothing- nothing - I was sworn to secrecy. We will both be dead long before anyone ever hears of it.
Oops. Perhaps he shouldn't have read that part. He felt his wife's hands tighten on his shoulder.
I thought of you, and your little family, and I had these made. Perhaps I will send them also to the others. I hope they will reach you in time for Christmas.
Please take care, and please write back. It would be so good to hear from you.
Your friend,
Hans Schultz.
"What did he send us?"
"Under the tissue!" Ila grabbed a handful of tissue and threw it over her shoulder. Nestled on top of more tissues were seven rag dolls. Carter grabbed one and inspected it. A grin broke out on his face. The cloth doll, dressed in blue with a blue side cap and green button eyes, looked suspiciously familiar.
"Hey, it's Newkirk!" He grabbed another. Smaller, and in red with a felt beret. "LeBeau! Hey! It's us!" He laughed as he pulled out the rest of the gang. They were all there. And Klink and Schultz too.
"I like this one," Ila said as she grabbed the doll in a brown leather coat. Of course.
"That's Colonel Hogan."
"This one is the best," Susan said shyly as she hugged the khaki clad Kinch doll.
"Personally, I'm partial to this one," Lucy said, reaching over his shoulder to point at a blue buttoned eyed doll wearing a worn black jacket and gloves.
"That's me," he said with a little smirk.
"Can we play with them?" Susan asked.
Lucy grunted. "Well-"
"I'll help with dinner prep," Carter offered.
"Well, all right then."
The two girls cheered and grabbed an armful of dolls before jumping off the table.
"Let's save the princess!" Susan suggested.
"No, let's be outlaws and rustle some cows! Or rob a bank!" Ila said as they disappeared around the corner.
"We robbed a bank once," Carter said absently.
"Excuse me?"
Carter sat up straight. "I mean…" He glanced at his wife and ducked his head sheepishly. "You know, if it's not too much trouble, maybe I'll go play with the girls too?"
Lucy sighed and cast a glance about the kitchen. "Take Rose," she finally said.
Carter kissed her, then grabbed Rose and joined his other daughters.
An hour later, Lucy came into the living room, wiping her hands off on her apron. Her husband was on the floor, a doll in his hands. Ila May and Susan were watching him intensely, hanging on every word. Rose was occupying herself with chewing on one of the dolls dressed in grey.
"All right men, we gotta find a way to blow up that bridge and fast. The underground is counting on us!"
He dropped the doll and grabbed the fat one. "Oh I see nothing! I hear nothing! I know nothing!" he said in a rumbly voice laced with a German accent.
"Blimey, how we gonna do it? It'll be crawling with Gestapo." This was in a poorly done accent, the blue doll in hand.
"Andy?" Lucy interrupted.
Andrew looked up at her and grinned. "Yeah?"
"What are you doing?"
"Oh, you know," he answered innocently enough. "Just playing."