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

Thanks to dust on the wind, whose lovely story "Lightly Falls the Snow" introduced me to the concept of Julfest.

December 24, 1942

Sergeant Hans Schultz settled himself into Helga's office chair and ignored the protesting—and somewhat alarming—creak. He was just glad to give his poor suffering feet a rest before he had to go out into the cold again.

Helga was not in the office because she had been allowed leave for Julfest, lucky girl! Schultz was pretty sure, though, that she and her family would not be celebrating the winter solstice in the approved Nazi fashion. Instead they would be observing a quiet family service at home for Heiligabend, trying to pretend that Christmas in Germany had not really changed at all. Just as Schultz and his family tried to do.

He sighed. He was on duty, of course, but he wouldn't have been able to travel home to Heidelberg anyway: over one hundred kilometers, and in this weather! Still, it would have been nice to see Gretchen and the children at Christmastime.

A sound of annoyance was heard from the inner office and Schultz sighed again. No doubt the big shot was struggling with paperwork as usual, and for what? Those piles of papers would still be there on his return, had the Kommandant decided to leave the Luftstalag to celebrate Julfest.

But Colonel Klink was reluctant to leave the camp for some reason, and he had given his adjutant Captain Grüber leave instead. Schultz shook his head over the incomprehensible behavior of officers, and then jumped as the telephone on Helga's desk jangled.

He picked up the receiver, straightened the collar of his tunic, and assumed a businesslike expression. "Hallo, this is Luftstalag 13, Sergeant Schultz speaking. It is? Das ist gut! We have been waiting for so long...what?" His eyes widened in consternation. "Ach, das ist schlecht!"

Schultz listened some more, and a relieved smile appeared. "Oh, das ist gut! Ja, ja...I shall try to arrange it with the Kommandant. Auf Wiederhören!"

He pushed the chair away from the desk and heaved himself to his feet. The telephone message meant a trip to Hammelburg—in the snow, no less!—but it would be worth it. He smiled as he lifted his hand to tap on the Kommandant's door.

Colonel Wilhelm Klink stared morosely at his cluttered desk. Paperwork! Endless, monotonous, repetitive paperwork. How on earth did Germans ever get a reputation for efficiency, when every little occurrence had to be recorded in triplicate? He gave an irritated flick to one of the papers and it took flight, lofting gently from the desktop to the floor. Klink didn't bother to pick it up, didn't even glance at it.

But the unending paperwork wasn't the real cause of his discontent. Tonight was Heiligabend, and it would be the third Christmas Eve he had spent in this dreary place. True, he could have gone home to Düsseldorf to spend it with his mother and his good-for-nothing brother Wolfgang, but Klink wasn't about to leave the camp and entrust his no-escape record to Grüber.

Not since Luftstalag 13 had acquired a Senior POW Officer, anyway. Klink had to admit that Colonel Hogan was unfailingly pleasant and polite to him, and often offered unasked-for advice, but it was Hogan's duty to escape, after all, and Klink knew he must be vigilant if he were to keep the valuable American prisoner in his charge.

Even if it meant spending Christmas at Luftstalag 13.

Not that Christmas in Germany was the same as Klink remembered from his youth. There was nothing religious about it anymore; certainly it had nothing to do with peace on earth, good will to men.

But Klink, of necessity, had adjusted over the years; he'd never been a particularly religious fellow anyway. And there was no sense rocking the boat, not under this regime.

At least, he thought he had adjusted. But there was a void, an emptiness about the season that engendered a similar emptiness in his heart: an emptiness that manifested itself in a restlessness and irritability that Klink couldn't understand, much less control.

All he knew was this: it was Christmas, he was unhappy, and the prisoners were somehow to blame. Especially Colonel Hogan.

So when the tap sounded on the door, Klink was in no mood to be pleasant. "Herein!" he barked, and the door opened with a timid squeak, to reveal the rotund figure of Luftstalag 13's Sergeant of the Guard.

Schultz's round blue eyes were anxious as he stuttered, "If you please, Herr Kommandant..."

Klink glowered at his hapless subordinate. "What is it now, Schultz? Can't you see that I'm busy?"

The Sergeant gulped but stood his ground. "It is a message from Hammelburg, Herr Kommandant. The truck carrying the Red Cross packages for the prisoners has broken down there. They are asking us to send one of our trucks to collect the packages."

Klink's frown was so forceful that it nearly shattered his monocle. "What presumption! It is not our business to do the work of the Red Cross!"

"But, Kommandant, the prisoners have waited so long! I still need to distribute the letters that arrived today, but I thought afterwards I could use one of the camp trucks to..."

"Schultz! You will do no such thing. Those packages will get here when they get here—we are not going to fetch and carry for those miserable prisoners!"

Schultz gasped. "But, Kommandant! It is Christmas Eve...it would mean so much to them."

"Silence! There is no Christmas in Germany...not for us, and certainly not for them." Klink rose from his desk and approached the Sergeant menacingly. "And you can forget about distributing those letters, too. There was an escape attempt last week, and those men do not deserve to get their mail the minute it arrives in camp. They will have to wait until I decide they have earned it!"

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," Schultz said. His voice was subdued and his face was noncommittal, but his eyes held just a hint of accusation, and Klink was enraged anew.

"Dismissed!"

Yes, his action—or rather, inaction—had been spiteful. And unnecessary. But depriving the prisoners (even temporarily) of something they wanted very much gave Klink a sense of control, a sense of power that was otherwise sadly lacking in his life.

On the other hand, it did nothing for the emptiness in his heart. To put it bluntly, ever since the Nazis had come to power his heart had begun to shrivel. And as of today his heart was two sizes too small.

That being so, it gave him perverse pleasure to visit Barracks 2 that afternoon, just to revel in the bleakness of it all. The dim interior was crowded and hazy with cigarette smoke, and he waved his hand irritably in front of his nose as his gaze searched out the Senior POW Officer.

Hogan was standing by the common room table, stringing a metallic chain on a pitiful-looking bush. The bush was already festooned with a collection of dog tags, paper stars, and strips of tinfoil apparently purloined from cigarette packages. It was pathetic.

Hogan looked up as Klink entered, with a question in his eyes. "Here to wish us a merry Christmas, Colonel?"

Klink smiled the only smile that his shriveled heart would allow: an unpleasant, sneering grimace that chilled to the bone. "Nothing very merry about it, is there, Colonel Hogan? But then you sentimental fools celebrate everything; no doubt you will celebrate your inevitable defeat at the hands of the glorious Third Reich!"

Hogan's jaw tightened but he said only, "I've been meaning to talk with you, sir: the men have had no mail for weeks. And we're due for a shipment of Red Cross packages, aren't we?"

"Bah!" said Klink. "You will get those items when they get here, and not before. The Luftwaffe pampers you far too much as it is!"

And he swaggered from the barracks with his head held high, impervious to the glares cast at him.

Back in his office, Klink put his feet up on the desk and leaned back with a satisfied smirk. The Allies were soft, no doubt about it. What a privilege it was to be German, and part of an all-conquering nation...

He dropped his feet to the floor with a thud as his mood plummeted. Was it a privilege, or a curse? Years of indoctrination gave way to an unbearable sense of shame and despair, and he could feel his heart shrivel even further.

Then he heard it...music wafting across the compound.

Klink got to his feet and swung his office window open. The tune was unfamiliar, but it was undoubtedly a Christmas carol. Then, over the hush of the falling snow, the words crystallized in the frosty air:

It came upon the midnight clear
That glorious song of old
From angels bending near the earth
To touch their harps of gold:
"Peace on the earth, good will to men
From heaven's all-gracious King."
The world in solemn stillness lay
To hear the angels sing.

Tears came to his eyes as he thought:

I'm afraid of the Nazis...and I hate them. Sometimes I hate myself. But...I really do want peace on earth, good will to men, just as those prisoners do. If only it could be!

And what happened next even Klink couldn't say; could it be his heart grew three sizes that day?

He turned away from the window. "Schultz!"

The Sergeant stuck his head cautiously into the office doorway. "Jawohl, Herr Kommandant?"

"Find Corporal Langenscheidt, at once!"

"But-but-but...why, Herr Kommandant?"

"He will need to take charge of the camp, Dummkopf! You and I are going into town!"

Schultz clutched the door handle as the truck careened around a curve, skidding dangerously in the snow. "Bitte, Herr Kommandant, I have a wife and five children—must you drive so fast?"

Colonel Klink squinted through his monocle at the flurries of snow and hunched his shoulders, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "Don't be silly, Schultz! How else can we get those Red Cross packages before Christmas?"

"But will we not need to be in one piece to collect the packages, Kommandant?"

"Oh, shut up!"

Klink put his foot down on the accelerator and poor Schultz just closed his eyes. The engine roared, the truck bounced and slithered and shook and rattled, and Schultz cautiously opened his eyes just in time to see it: they were at the crest of the only hill between Luftstalag 13 and Hammelburg!

His mouth opened in a silent scream of terror as the truck zoomed down the hill, just managing to keep between the ditches which were barely visible on either side. Fortunately no one else was insane enough to be out on this night, and no other vehicle loomed in their path.

Klink grimly drove on, finally coming to a shuddering, skidding stop outside the Hofbräu, right behind another truck which was blanketed with snow. "This is where that Red Cross driver said he would be, isn't it, Schultz?"

The traumatized Sergeant could only whisper, "Jawohl, Herr Kommandant."

The patrons of the nearly empty Hofbräu looked up in amazement as the door flew open, revealing a very snowy Colonel Klink. "Where is Herr Richter?" he demanded.

A man seated at the bar abandoned his mug of Bier and got to his feet. "I am Richter," he said with a strong Swiss accent, eyeing the newcomer with some surprise. "You came, after all? Even in this snow?"

"Yes, yes, yes," said the Kommandant brusquely. "Come with me! We have no time to waste."

The barkeeper looked up as well. "You're going to move the Red Cross packages into a stalag truck?" he asked, obviously having heard the whole story from his out-of-town customer.

"Of course!" said Klink, almost dancing now with impatience.

"Many hands make light work," observed the barkeeper as he set down the glass he had been polishing and reached for his overcoat. "I'll help you."

The other two occupants of the Hofbräu exchanged glances and reached for their own overcoats. "Why not?" said one of them. "We could use some fresh air."

Within minutes the Red Cross truck was emptied of its cargo and the packages were nestled in the back of the much-abused vehicle from Luftstalag 13. The barkeeper and his patrons wished them luck, and vanished back inside the cozy warmth of the Hofbräu.

Only Herr Richter lingered. "This is very good of you," he said. "God bless you."

Klink only nodded; he was still breathless from loading packages. Schultz stepped in, smiling at the Red Cross driver. "And you, too, mein Herr! Gesegnete Weihnachten!"

The Sergeant then turned to Klink and said, kindly but firmly: "You must be exhausted, Herr Kommandant. Shall I drive back to the camp?"

"Yes, yes," said Klink. "But hurry!"

The snow was falling ever more thickly as the truck approached the front gates. Corporal Langenscheidt had apparently been watching for their return, and he hurried to help Corporal Kohl open the gates.

As the truck rolled into the snowy compound, Klink stuck his head out of the passenger window, noting that the sound of singing was still wafting from the barracks. "Call an emergency assembly, at once!" he shouted.

"Jawohl, Herr Kommandant," Langenscheidt saluted, and he nodded to Kohl. Shortly all the guards on duty were rushing to the various barracks, and the caroling was replaced by grumbling as the prisoners inside put on whatever warm clothing was available.

Soon all the men of Luftstalag 13 were gathered in the compound and glaring at the Kommandant, who stood before them in his usual manner, with riding crop tucked firmly under his arm. Schultz was at his side, trying to smile reassuringly at the prisoners, but Hogan would have none of that.

"With all due respect, Kommandant, this assembly clearly violates the Geneva Convention! It's Christmas Eve, and..." Hogan would have said more, but he was cut off.

"I have called this assembly for one reason only," said Klink. "As you can see, this truck has just arrived, and I wish it to be emptied as quickly as possible."

"You're asking for a work detail tonight?" Hogan's voice was raised in a rare lapse into overt hostility, and Klink hastened to clarify the issue.

"Not exactly," he said. "The truck contains your Red Cross packages."

There was a moment of stunned silence, followed by a cheer from the assembled prisoners. Klink said briskly to the American colonel, who stood with jaw agape: "Well, what are you waiting for? Dismissed!"

Within minutes the truck was empty and the packages had been carried into the barracks. Meanwhile, Schultz emerged from the Kommandantur bearing a heavy sack, and he winked at Hogan as he went into Barracks 2. Another cheer erupted from the men inside, and a joyous shout was heard.

"Mail call!"

Out in the compound Hogan hefted one of the Red Cross packages in his hand, and he looked up at Klink with a lopsided smile. "Thanks, Kommandant."

"I was only doing my duty," Klink said gruffly, and would have turned away, but Hogan spoke again.

"Merry Christmas, Colonel Klink."

The Kommandant caught his breath. Maybe there was a way to keep Christmas in his heart...could he perhaps cooperate with the American, and work toward the much-desired goal of peace on earth? He would find a way, somehow, even if Hogan never realized it.

And he smiled. "A blessed Christmas to you, Colonel Hogan."