Christmas Eve, 1943

Hogan noticed two things as he regained consciousness. First, his head hurt. He chalked that up to falling flat on his back when he slipped on a patch of ice. The next, was that he wasn't alone.

He felt a hot breath on his face as something soft nuzzled him. For a second, he thought that maybe Tiger had found him and was nursing him back to health. But, he quickly dismissed the thought: whoever it was was far too close, had terrible breath, and was making some sort of grunting noise.

Hogan cracked open an eyelid and gasped at the sight that greeted him. Some sort of beast was above him, trying to eat his face.

Quickly, Hogan scrambled back in the snow until he was out from under the creature. Then, carefully, so as not to startle it any more, Hogan got to his feet. "Easy, easy now," he said, not sure if he was talking to himself or the animal.

It turned out his panic was somewhat unjustified. Instead of some horrible monster, his companion was nothing more than a deer. A reindeer, actually. It looked at Hogan calmly, making no move towards him. Hogan stood still, not sure what to do. While the animal didn't look aggressive at the moment, he had heard deer could kill a man if so inclined. He found himself wishing Carter were there with him—he'd know what to do. Aside from literally being named after a deer, Carter had experience in hunting all sorts of critters back home. As for Hogan, he'd spent all his life in one city or another and the closest he came to wildlife was the occasional raccoon that got into his trash.

Suddenly, the reindeer shook its head, sending snow flying off its back and causing all the bells on its harness to jingle. Hogan was momentarily caught off-guard by the magical quality of the tinkling. But he quickly regained his sense and took a step back, his hand going for his sidearm. The deer took a step forward, and Hogan's fight or flight instinct fired up. It was silly to be scared of such an animal, but it was big and unpredictable, which made it dangerous.

"Prancer! Prancer!"

Hogan's heart bucked in his chest. Someone was coming. And fast. Hogan took another step back and then turned to flee, only to run smack dab into someone. With a grunt, Hogan fell onto his rump.

"Oh, sorry, Robert. Let me help you."

Robert? Who on earth would be calling him Robert in the middle of Nazi Germany?

Hogan looked at the offered hand and followed it up to its owner. He didn't believe what he saw. A man with a long white beard, twinkling eyes, rosy cheeks and a long red cloak lined with rich brown fur.

"Uh," was the only intelligent thing Hogan could say.

"Go on, take my hand, Robert. That's a good boy now," the man laughed as he pulled Hogan to his feet. Hogan brushed himself off and just stared at the man, slack-jawed. "Oh, but you're surprised to see me, aren't you? Don't tell me you're too cynical to admit who I am. You always had quite the imagination, you know. Come on—use it—say my name."

No. He wasn't going to say it because it was crazy! He must have knocked his head harder than he thought.

"Oh well, some other time," the man said. "Thank you for keeping Prancer out of trouble. Now if you'll excuse me, it's a busy night and that flak isn't going to stop me!"

The man turned to leave and Hogan finally found his voice. "Now hold on a minute!" Hogan cried. "You're not seriously… you don't honestly expect me… you don't think I'm going to believe that you're… you're…"

"Santa Claus?" the man bellowed with a jolly laugh. "But that's who I am!"

Oh, Kinch was right. He needed a vacation. He was cracking! "Santa Claus?" Hogan repeated skeptically.

"Of course! Come, I'll show you the sleigh if you want."

He was dreaming. That was it. He was lying unconscious in the snow and dreaming. And there was no harm in following a dream.

"All right," Hogan said.

'Santa' grabbed hold of the reindeer's harness and Hogan followed him through the woods. They entered a little clearing where there was a sleigh and seven reindeer. Upon seeing the man in the cloak, the reindeer stomped their feet happily, sending a wave of magical jingling through the air.

"Yes, yes, I found him. You can stop worrying now, Vixen," Santa said. He gave one of the reindeer a pat and then set about adding Prancer to the lineup. "The Germans are getting better with their aim. They nearly got us this time. But no harm done, we'll be all right."

"Right," Hogan drawled. "They nearly hit you with flak because… you were flying… through the air…"

"That's right!" Santa exclaimed. His belly jiggled when he laughed. "We lost altitude, and we ran into the top of a tree and poor Prancer got knocked loose!"

"So…" Even though this was a dream, Hogan was having a hard time believing it. But the man in front of him looked so real and he could smell the reindeer and hear the jingling bells. If it were a dream, it was the most detailed one he had ever had. Hogan reached out and touched the sleigh, running his hand over the intricate carvings. "So, you're Santa Claus, huh?"

"As I said."

"So what are you doing here in the middle of Nazi Germany?" Hogan asked.

Santa's smile faltered a little. "Oh, Robert, don't tell me you think everyone here is on my naughty list. You know that's not true."

Hogan frowned. Yes, he knew that wasn't true. There were a lot of good people here—plenty of children who were still innocent and full of wonder even while the adults around them goose-stepped for a madman.

"Point taken." Hogan glanced into the sleigh and saw a velvety red sack lying in the back. "Hey, your bag is empty. Looks like you lost all your toys when the Krauts shot you down."

"Ho ho ho," Santa laughed. "Of course it's empty! The reindeer have a hard enough time trying to pull me! But I'll tell you what, you tell me what you want to give… say… Peter for Christmas."

"Newkirk? Well, I suppose I'd get him a nice warm blanket. He's had the same rag for three years now."

"Now reach into the bag."

Hogan arched an eyebrow. "But it's empty." Santa just shrugged. Hogan scoffed in annoyance, but grabbed the bag and reached in. Sure enough, the only thing in there was a soft, fuzzy blanket. "Oh. I see. It fills up when you need it to. Christmas magic, huh?"

"Just so!" Santa cried.

Hogan squinted at him, at this man of incredible power, looking so jolly and warm while, all around him, the world burned. Hogan felt anger well up inside him.

"In that case," Hogan said tightly, "I'm thinking Carter could use a little peace on earth. And Kinch a little good will towards men. I know LeBeau would love an end to the war." Hogan reached into the bag and swung his hand around. "Gosh darn it," he said sarcastically, "empty." He took the bag and shook it.

"You won't find those things in there, Robert," Santa said sadly.

Hogan pegged him with a hard look. "So you're telling me that you have eight reindeer who can fly, you travel the whole world in one night to deliver toys and presents to the good little girls and boys, and you have a magic sack that can conjure up all sorts of things, but you can't end the war?"

Santa sighed and shook his head. "If I could, I would," he said. "But that is beyond even my power."

"Well you must know someone who can," Hogan pressed, unimpressed with the man before him despite all the magical qualities he claimed to have.

"I do. I know someone. Many someones. You. I know you. And good men like you."

"Oh come on!" Hogan cried. "There are people dying out there. By the tens of thousands! Men, women, children, and you're just going to sit back and let us…. figure it out ourselves?"

"Yes. I'm afraid I am. You see, Robert, this war started in the hearts of man. And so it must be stopped by the hearts of man. All I can do is plant seeds of love and kindness into those hearts and hope they take root. And, until that happens, it would not matter how many times I intervene—man will always find a reason to fight and hate each other."

"That sounds like an awfully convenient excuse," Hogan said bitterly.

"I know. I know it's hard to hear. But I cannot stop the will of man. It is a gift—the first gift I ever gave. A gift to be used for good or for evil. Oh, you could accomplish so much if you just used it for good!" Santa lamented.

"All right, so until we figure that out, just… don't let us use it for evil," Hogan said.

"Failure is a powerful teacher, Robert," Santa said. "A sometimes cruel, but powerful teacher. And so man must be free to fail. Must be free to use their will for evil." Santa reached over and put his hand on Hogan's shoulder, but Hogan shook it off. "I know it's hard. But, believe me, one day man will finally learn. He will look at the destruction his hate has caused and it will cause a change of heart. A true change of heart and he will never again want to pursue evil."

"Yeah? And when will that happen?" Hogan asked with a dark tone.

"I don't know. But it will happen. The final victory will be ours, Robert. But you must keep fighting for good. And, when you can, you must help me plant seeds."

"How?"

"You know how. There is a sapling inside you already. Look to it, and it will tell you. But I will give you some advice: be patient, be honest, be forgiving, and show mercy." Santa again reached out and touched Hogan's shoulder and this time, Hogan didn't pull away. Santa squeezed it. But then he stepped back and hopped into his sleigh. "I wish I could stay and talk with you more, but I must be going."

"Sure, sure. Busy night," Hogan said.

Santa gave him a tender smile. "Be safe, little one." Then he grabbed his whip and cracked it in the air. "Now Dasher, now Dancer, now Prancer and Vixen! On Comet, on Cupid, on Donder and Blitzen!" The reindeer snorted and huffed and started running, kicking up snow around them, their bells jingling wildly. And then, they started to climb into the air. Hogan stood back and watched in amazement as they went up and up and up. And then, they were gone over the treetops and out of sight.

Hogan stood watching the sky for a long time, thinking about what Santa had said. He wasn't sure he could buy the jolly man's explanation. Was it for man to change their hearts? Was it the duty of a higher power to stop them from pursuing their own destruction? He didn't know. But he knew he had a lot to think about.

Eventually, Hogan turned and started back towards Stalag Thirteen. But, suddenly, his feet came out from under him and he fell backwards, knocking his head on a tree root.

Hogan opened bleary eyes with a groan. Slowly, he sat up and rubbed the back of his head. He must have hit it when he fell. He wondered how long he had been unconscious. Hogan looked at his watch. Just long enough to have a bizarro dream, he decided.

With another groan, Hogan got to his feet. Then his eyes went wide as he frantically searched his pockets for the film his underground contact had given him. He sighed in relief when he felt it in his pocket. He reached in and pulled it out, just in case. With a grin, he tossed it up in the air a little, caught it, and then put it back into his pocket.

Wait. There was something else in there.

Hogan let go of the film and pulled out the other object in his pocket. A small paper pouch. Curious, he opened it and poured the contents out into his hand.

A single seed.

Hogan closed a fist around it and looked up into the sky. He didn't see anything but he thought, maybe he heard the jingling of bells.

"It was a dream, wasn't it?" Hogan asked.

He didn't know. But suddenly all the questions he had posed to himself in the dream came back to him.

He slowly made his way back to camp, pondering questions that he didn't know the answer to. But, he hoped that one day, he would.