AN: This is the second in what may become an annual tradition. My first story was done last year and called "Hidden Chanukkah." The stories are not related, and the dates are not meant to be cohesive. I just simply see them as ways the holidays might be celebrated at Stalag 13. Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays to all!
Barracks Two
Christmas Eve
Chaplain Taffy Matthews pulled his journal out of his footlocker. He had been trying to keep it updated regularly ever since he had been assigned to Stalag 13 a few years ago, but there were a few gaps here and there. A couple of those reflected times he was just as glad not to look back on anyway, but he tried to be as faithful as he could. He never wrote "Dear Diary," or anything silly like that, but he figured that someday he might write a book about all the insanity happening all around him. On the other hand, who would ever believe the stuff Hogan and his men pulled off? Taffy shook his head and chuckled as he started his latest entry.
~HH~
24 Dec 43
TSgt. Andrew Carter has been unusually quiet over the past couple of weeks. That normally would be a cause for concern, but we have learned by now that this is not unusual for him at this time of year. Winter this year has been very hard on all of us, but Christmas is always the worst, especially the longer this war drags on. From conversations I have had with the lad, I know Andrew is from a very large loving family, and he misses them terribly. He has chosen to stay down in his lab and putter with his various experiments and work on his woodcarvings—a hobby he picked up in the past year or so. He made it clear he prefers to be left alone, so we are respecting his wishes as much as we can. Even Newkirk is curbing his naturally nosey-parker ways and staying out of his hair.
Andrew could be pretty gregarious when he chose to. And as he talks a mile a minute most of the time it had been noticeably quiet in in the barracks. Even LeBeau had commented on the silence more than once. Louis is baking Christmas cookies for a special dessert tonight… from some white flour and sugar Peter had found "lying around." Olsen had managed to bring them a few eggs he had scrounged from somewhere, though he refused to divulge his source in the same way as Newkirk.
Hogan has refused to let anyone see them, but I know he has been busy sketching. I believe that's what he's giving everyone for Christmas. He really is very talented. If circumstances were different, perhaps he could actually be a successful artist one day. I doubt that he'd be happy with that career though… not enough adrenaline for him.
Andrew did tell me he was making something for tonight for everyone in the barracks, but he wouldn't tell me what it was. He said he wasn't sure it would be ready in time. Foster knitted about fifty brand new pairs of socks, so everyone is going to hang one on their bunks. They aren't expecting anything in them, but I have an inside track. You see…
A jolly old elf named Schultz slipped me a case of peppermint sticks (nice sized ones too!) from him, and a case of cigarettes from Klink. I have no idea how they got those items, but I am not complaining. My sister sent me a large package of hard candies that blessedly made it through the censors. She is clever and marked it as "Bible Study Materials." (A mistruth that she assured me she repented from immediately after she posted it.) Those items will find their way into all the stockings along with a penny, just for old memories and luck. I have even persuaded Col. Hogan to place a stocking on the door to his quarters.
Also, I happen to know that the Red Cross is having packages and new blankets delivered to all the barracks mid-morning tomorrow. The meal from the mess hall probably won't be worth eating, as usual, but LeBeau is doing his best with what we have. Carter did snare a bunch of rabbits yesterday, and Langenscheidt contributed a few potatoes and carrots, so we won't be going hungry, at least.
Until Next Time
~HH~
Later that Night
The men had found a bedraggled pine tree and put it in one corner of the barracks. A few bits of ribbon and tinfoil decorated its rather meager branches, but they all agreed it was the thought that counted. Like the men themselves, the poor little tree couldn't help the fact it was doing its best in the middle of the war.
Andrew showed up for dinner and ate the stew he was served without much conversation. He smiled at his friends and promptly disappeared downstairs, telling them his gift for them was nearly finished and he would be back up before midnight, and to please wait for him. Most of the men had agreed to hold a midnight service there in the barrack to celebrate the coming of Christmas day. Taffy was going to recite the story of the Christ child's birth from Luke 2. Andrew promised he would be on time.
Kinch and Baker had found a short string of small light bulbs and put them up on the wall behind the tree. Most of the men were simply sitting around quietly. Olsen pulled out his guitar and was strumming a Christmas carol when Hogan came out and joined the men at the table. Dieter had bartered a couple of packs of cigarettes with one of the guards for the chance to go and cut down a tree for wood, so they had some extra logs. It was nice to have the extra warmth as the nights were really cold now. He smiled at LeBeau and watched as the Frenchman added another log to the stove. It came in handy to be one of the few men in Barracks 2 who didn't smoke.
~HH~
The men had pooled their few remaining bars of chocolate and bartered a couple of extra buckets of milk from the dairyman who came every few days from town. Keeping the milk fresh hadn't been a problem, as they simply kept it in their "ice box" down in one of the dead end tunnels. The ice box consisted of a large wooden crate the men had wedged into a corner of the tunnel surrounded by blocks of ice they had secretly chipped out of the nearby river and packed with snow as needed. Newkirk and Dieter were tasked with making sure the blocks of ice were kept in good condition. Olsen brought in loads of sawdust in his backpack every time he returned to camp and thus they were able to keep foods preserved downstairs they might not otherwise been able to have.
All this explained why Louis was standing in front of their stove gently stirring a pot of hot chocolate and humming to himself. He had brought the milk up from the tunnel an hour before. He was only sorry he could not make the treat from real cream and better chocolate than this rather poor grade of American stuff, but under the circumstances, he would not complain. It was getting close to midnight, and he knew Taffy was getting anxious to start his service. Louis was somewhat ambivalent about the religious side of Christmas, but he would begrudge no man their right to worship as they wished. After all, wasn't that why they were in this war to begin with? Some things were worth fighting for.
Louis glanced up as the tunnel bunk began to rise. Andrew stuck his head up, an oddly serene look on his face. That was one thing that LeBeau could never quite understand about his friend. No matter what was going on around him, or what circumstances befell him, Carter seemed at peace. Not resigned to his fate as so many others here seemed to be, but genuinely at peace with himself and those around him. Andre' would stand up and fight for others when necessary and he was smart and brave. Many who thought they knew Carter underestimated him, but Louis never made that mistake.
He had often wondered how Andre' managed to survive in this place. He had known the American was a religious man, but Louis had to admit his own memories of religion were somewhat tainted by the strict Catholicism of his childhood. The simple faith Carter displayed was nothing like the pomp and circumstance of LeBeau's youthful religious experience. Besides, he reflected with a smirk, he doubted Andre' had ever had to deal with an angry nun who hadn't appreciated his criticism of her cooking.
LeBeau's attention was drawn back to his friend as Andre' attempted to climb off the ladder. He was carrying a large box, holding it as if it were very fragile. Several of the men in the room stood as if they were unsure whether they wanted to help him or bolt from the demolitions expert's presence. Typically, Newkirk had no such qualms. He strode confidently over to his best mate's side and gently took the box from Carter so that the younger man was able to hop agilely into the room. His eyes began to sparkle, and he grinned as he glanced around at his barracks-mates. He also registered the concerned looks on the faces of some of the others.
"Don't worry, fellas I didn't build a bomb or anything. I just made a Christmas present for Taffy and for the rest of you."
Taffy turned from where he had begun to light the candles for their service. He raised his bushy copper eyebrows. "Me, Andrew? You have a gift for me?"
"Well, it's kind of for everyone, but I thought you might appreciate it the most. I've been working on it for a while now." With that, he picked up the box and carried it carefully to the makeshift table the men had built for the chaplain to place the candles and other items for the service. "The box is really too big, but it was the only one I had. I think it might fit on your table here."
Andrew placed the box on the floor next to Taffy, who knelt next to him, and carefully opened the lid, the men crowding closer as he drew out the first item. It was a wooden creche. It was intricately carved, and yet beautiful in its simplicity. Taffy placed it on the table, and soon all the other figures followed. Shepherds, wisemen, animals, Joseph, Mary, angels, and the manger. One figurine, significantly, was missing. Newkirk tilted a skeptical eye towards Andrew. "Hate ta tell ya mate, but you forgot the guest of honor!"
A few of the other men chuckled and Hogan smacked Peter on the back of the head affectionately. Andrew grinned. "Oh, I didn't forget Him! He'll be there tomorrow. That's how it works, Peter." His innocent smile combined with Peter's embarrassment made for a light moment in what had been a long and grim winter.
Taffy breathed a silent prayer of thanksgiving for the brave and unique personalities which made up the heroes of Barracks Two, and indeed of Stalag 13. He would never understand war, nor the need for it, but he was charged with nurturing the souls of these men… and he cared deeply for every one of them. He watched as Carter carefully arranged his masterpiece. As he opened his well-worn Bible to read the story of the birth of the Christ child, his mind flitted to one of his favorite passages. It reminded him of Carter and his Creche. It talked about how all good gifts came from Heaven. Maybe Carter was one of those gifts. Because this place would be so much darker without him.
~The End~