Day 4

It seemed the boxes of Christmas ornaments got heavier each year, Tully noticed while squatting to pick one of them up. Not many of them broke, and even fewer broke since his two daughters had gotten old enough to be gentler with the more fragile ones. He and his family were always buying new ones, getting some as gifts, or making them. That wouldn't be an issue if they could get a tree big enough to hold all of them, but there was only so tall and wide a tree could be before it wouldn't fit in the house. A week after Thanksgiving, the tree was up but undecorated. Mabel and the kids were out looking to see how many stores now had their displays up. They'd probably come home with more decorations.

"I hate to get rid of any of these," Tully grunted while setting one of the boxes down in the living room. "Everything's got a story behind it."

"Everything?" Dietrich asked from the kitchen.

"Well, I'm sure I'll find something that we're not sure the origins of if I dig around enough." Tully looked over at where Dietrich was placing a very generous dollop of homemade whipped cream on a slice of pumpkin pie. "I thought you were turning the leftover turkey into soup."

"I will turn it into soup in a moment."

"But you found the pie first."

"I did."

Tully shrugged. He personally didn't care what or how much Dietrich ate, as long as he cleared out as much of the Thanksgiving leftovers as possible. With the Christmas season upon them, there would be a lot more cooking to do. Tully and his wife, a former Army nurse named Mabel Parker, whom he met back in North Africa, considered making cookies to be a team effort, with how many people they always sent cookies to. They would give everyone a variety, but also send everyone a larger portion of their favorites. Aside from Dietrich, who seemed to like everything sweet, especially if it had honey. Tully had to make sure he hid the many honey jars Mabel bought for cookies when Dietrich came over the day before.

After bringing down another box of ornaments, Tully opened both, and pulled out a bundle of lights. He was the envy of the group with his patience for untangling Christmas lights. Troy was hopeless with lights. Hitch was a little better, but would let out a cuss or two dealing with them. Hanging Christmas lights was the only time Tully had ever heard Moffitt swear more than three times in a single sentence. Dietrich would swear like a German sailor when battling Christmas lights. Only Troy had been a tougher opponent for him.

Tully found being patient with the lights was the best way to get results, even if it took a while. He had time, though. When he was finished laying the strands of lights out, he glanced into the kitchen. "Hey, Dietrich, you wanna help me get these around the tree?"

He heard Dietrich setting his fork down before the skinny German came into the living room. "Where is your angel?" Dietrich asked.

"I think she's buried under some of the other boxes." Tully pulled out a few small cardboard boxes that jingled as he searched for the angel tree-topper. "Yep—there she is." Out of all the ornaments, this was the one he was most careful with. It was the first Christmas-related thing he bought when he moved into this house with Mabel after the war. They picked it out together when shopping. That would always be a special little moment.

"Tully, can I… can I say something?" Dietrich said in a small voice.

"What? You okay?"

"I…" Dietrich held up a little snowman ornament. A homemade one. Tully's oldest, Eleanor, had made it when she was five, and written her name under it. "No offense to your daughter, but… this is not exactly a pretty snowman."

Tully couldn't argue with that. The snowman's eyes were going in two different directions. It had a very big and very goofy smile. Its little stick arms were uneven, and it looked like it was made of melting marshmallows. The "backstory" he and Mabel gave that snowman was that it was in the process of melting in springtime. "It's the eyes, isn't it?" Tully said with a smirk.

"Yes. I feel like… it is staring into my soul. Well, as best it can, given the rather unfortunate state of its eyes."

"That little fella seems to have that effect on people. He makes somebody jump every year. Even got Sarge to jump." Tully laughed. "It's become a Christmas tradition. Eleanor told me last year that she wanted to get rid of it. She wanted to get rid of everything from when she was little. I said, 'That snowman's provided a lot of laughs over the years. Can we at least keep him?' She reluctantly agreed to let us keep it."

"I cannot say I blame her." Dietrich gave the snowman a wary expression before setting it back in the ornament box. "I never made Christmas ornaments as a child."

Tully's smile faded, and he gave Dietrich a sympathetic look. "I know your home life wasn't the best."

"Home, yes. It was… not fun. With my aunt and uncle, it was different."

"Did you ever wish they could take you in?"

"Several times. I… once said that to my mother, out of anger, and that did not end well."

"She was strict, I take it?"

"Very much so. Slightly worse than Troy's mother."

"Geez. I know it's taken a while for Sarge to open up about his home life. His mama sounds like a real cold, hard shell of a human being, all because she couldn't pull herself out of her own grief. Taking it out on Sarge, though…" Tully shook his head. "You can tell it's messed him up."

"And he did not deserve it." Dietrich sighed. "My mother was cold for my whole life. She did not take things out on me, but sometimes it felt like I… was not wanted. I was the youngest of three boys, and my brothers were very rough, while I was the quiet, gentle one. I was always told to 'toughen up' when dealing with my brothers' roughness. They could play with each other just fine. The moment I was involved, they never wanted me around." Dietrich shrugged. "That was fine. I was happy by myself."

"So, can I ask what Christmas was like for you?"

"When we moved to Munich, Christmas became wonderful, because I got to spend every Christmas with Aunt Miriam and Uncle Gerhardt. They loved Christmas."

"At least you got to spend time with them, even though your home wasn't all that good."

"I do consider myself very blessed to have that. I have told you that I was 'officially' removed from the family in Christmas of 1943, right?"

"You've mentioned it. That's awful."

"Right when my depression was becoming worse, too."

Tully was quiet while he and Dietrich draped the lights around the tree. "Have you ever tried talking to your family again? Just to see if things have changed?"

"I have thought about it. I am much happier where I am, and I worry that trying to make amends will just open old wounds. I am not even sure they are alive. Once I was kicked out, that was it. When I was in Pennsylvania, in a POW camp, I sent and received no mail. The American officers there in charge of records and the like always looked at me with this… palpable pity. I heard one of them say that they could not believe I had no family. I believe that was the same one who eventually asked if they were dead. I said, 'No. We had severe disagreements and I am no longer welcome in their presence.' He asked if it was at all related to the Nazis. I said, 'Yes. My parents were in full support of them. I was not. However, I ended up joining the army as an officer to protect myself, because I was living in constant fear of my own family turning me in as being disloyal.'"

"With that in mind, nobody's gonna blame you for not wanting to even try finding your folks," Tully said. "But, if you ever do decide you want to find out, you can always call one of us to be there with you."

"I doubt I would attempt this alone. The risk of something going wrong is far too high, and I would prefer to have one of you with me. Frankly, you or Troy would be my first choices."

"Me?"

"Of course. Why not? You have a brilliant means of diffusing situations."

"Hey, if you want me there, I'll make the time for you."

The tree was fully wrapped in lights. Tully knelt down by the nearest outlet with the plug in hand. "Alright, hopefully none of the bulbs explode," he muttered.

Dietrich stepped back as far as he could.

Tully plugged the lights in. A gentle glow enveloped him, and he turned to see the tree fully lit. Not a single bulb was out. "Nice," he said, nodding.

He kept thinking about what Dietrich told him while putting the ornaments on the tree, but his thoughts turned to when his daughters were little while he went through the two boxes packed with decorations. Dietrich had returned to the kitchen to finish his slice of pie and get started on creating a soup out of the leftover turkey, beginning with making a stock out of the bones.

"Smells good, Dietrich," Tully said. "You have no idea how much we appreciate you helping clean out the leftovers."

"It is no problem, Tully. I am happy to help." Dietrich went quiet for a moment. "You and the others have done a lot for me. It is the least I can do to give back."

"Don't worry about it. We may've not gotten off to a good start, but I'm glad things are better now. You're always welcome here."

"Thank you. I… appreciate your generosity."

"It is Christmastime, after all, but I try to be that way year-round." Tully came to the goofy-looking snowman. He grinned before hanging it in its usual place—where everyone could see it, and where it was most likely to spook someone. He hid his grin before looking over at Dietrich. "Would you mind helping me with the garland when I'm done hanging everything else up?"

"Sure."

It would be a little while before either of them were finished with what they were doing. Tully was getting the garland out right as Dietrich covered the turkey soup with a lid, and did his best to keep hiding his smirk. "Alright. I'll start on this side" He held out one end of the garland.

Dietrich took the garland. "I take it you want to start up—" His eyes widened upon seeing the snowman, and jumped nearly six feet in the air, swearing in German. "Why, that little—" He turned to Tully, who was laughing. "You set that up!"

"I did, and it got you. I'm proud of that."

"Honestly, I expected better of you, Tully."

"Hey, it's a Christmas tradition, and I appreciate you taking part in it."