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FanFic
The Richard Dawson Experience
Last UpDated: 22 October 2001.
Site Copyright © 2000-2001. Lisa Inc., All Rights Reserved.
Story Copyright © 2001. Rhonda "StuntChick36" Inc., All Rights Reserved.
A GERMAN/ENGLISH CHRISTMAS
OR
MERRY CHRISTMAS, PETER... FROHE WEIHNACHTEN, FREDDIE
23 December, 1943. The Christmas season blankets Europe.
At Stalag 13 in Hammelburg, the POW's find it hard to enjoy the upcoming holiday. Usually around this time, the men would go home and spend the holidays with family and friends. Instead, they're going to spend this Christmas behind a barbed wire fence in the unforgiving Bavarian cold with men that they had the unpleasant pleasure of being captured with.
To keep morale up, Kommandant Klink has allowed the prisoners to decorate their barracks however they like. Klink even suggested having a contest to see who could make their barracks the most festive.
Inside barracks #2, Colonel Hogan and his men are hanging popcorn strings around the hut. LeBeau, who got special permission to take the corn from the officers mess, starts popping more over the stove while Carter threads more needles.
"I haven't strung popcorn since I was a boy," says Carter with a childlike smile on his face.
"It's new for me," says the Frenchman. "At my house, we string up garlic over the door for luck."
Carter stops stringing and thinks out loud. "Isn't that how you ward off vampires?"
"In America, perhaps," says LeBeau, "but in France, it brings family together. After we string up the garlic, we all go to the kitchen and prepare a fantastic feast." He looks up at Newkirk, who's laying in his bunk staring at the ceiling. "Why don't you come down here and give us a hand?"
Without moving, Newkirk says, "I don't feel like it, Louis. I'm not in the mood."
"How can you not be in the mood?" asks Carter. "It's Christmas!"
"I'm not in the mood," Newkirk reiterates sharply. He sits up, grabs his hat and coat, and hops off his bunk.
"Where are you going?" asks Hogan, sipping his coffee.
Newkirk puts on his overcoat and opens the door. "Over to see Freddie. She can always find a way to cheer me up."
Freddie's laying on her bunk in her barracks, looking much like Newkirk did on his. The door opens and in walks her sweetheart.
"Hi, love," he says, trying to sound cheerful as he shuts the door behind him. He takes off his coat and goes over to the stove to warm his hands.
"Hello." Her voice doesn't hide any trace of her sadness. He notices this and slowly goes over to her and sits next to her.
"Are you alright?" he asks, running his hand tenderly over her leg.
"Yeah," she answers, "about as alright as I'm going to be, I guess." He motions her to move over and let him lay next to her.
He puts an arm around her and pulls her into his chest and says, "Come here and tell ol' Doctor Newkirk about it."
She smiles and sets her hand on his chest. "I don't know, doctor. I don't want to bother you with it." He smiles sweetly and brushes some of her hair from her forehead.
"You won't bother me, love. Your problems are my problems." He kisses her cheek. "Come on, tell me what's troublin' you."
She takes a big breath and sighs. "I hate Christmas. It's my least favorite time of year."
"It is for a lot of people, angel. Even me." She looks at him.
"You too? Why should you hate it?"
He's slow to tell her, but eventually shares. "Well," he starts, "I've never mentioned it to anyone before, but me grandmother died on Christmas. And while everyone else in the world celebrated, I was mournin'. I try every year to be cheerful, but I can't bring myself up to doin' it. Guess I miss her too much to be happy."
Freddie squeezes him. "Aw, I'm sorry, Peter." He smiles at her embrace.
"Ok. I shared my sad story. What's yours?" His fingers play with her hair and he watches the light bounce off of it as she speaks.
"Ever since my mother died, my father and I have never celebrated any major holiday quite the same again. I used to love Christmas when I was a child. All my cousins would come over and we'd gather around the tree and sing carols as we'd decorate it. My mother and grandmothers would spend all day in the kitchen cooking all kinds of wonderful things. My father and grandfathers would play chess and discuss the news of the day."
Newkirk couldn't help but become sucked into her tale. He listened intently with an honest concern for her.
"I remember sitting on my grandfather's lap as he played chess," she continues. "Every time it was his turn to move, he would tell me which piece to move and he'd let me move it for him." The fondness of the memories fade from Freddie's eyes and succumbs to the sadness in her heart. "But that all changed the day my mother died. I realized that the world around me wasn't goin' to be the same again."
He watched as her emotions wrote the sad story on her face. "You really miss your mum, don't you."
Slowly she answers, "Yeah."
Newkirk's heart sank as he watched tears fill Freddie's blue eyes. For an instant, he felt lost and helpless for her, not sure of how to comfort her but knowing that he desperately wanted to. He holds her a little tighter and kisses the top of her head. "Freddie, I... oh, darlin', I'm sorry."
Noticing the tears sliding out of the corners of her eyes, she wipes them. "Don't be, Peter. Don't be." She laughs a little and says, "Maybe if it wasn't so cold out, we'd both feel better."
"I know how to make it a little warmer," he says with an almost evil smirk on his face. Freddie rolls onto him, her lips kissing him with an almost insatiable desire. "And I see you know how to do it, too," he says with a smile.
She smiles back at him and runs her fingers through his wavy hair. "Unfortunately, Peter, I don't think I could make love right now. I'd enjoy it more if I was happy."
"So let me make you happy," he says as he leans forward and kisses her neck.
She backs off of him, still smiling. "I'm serious, Peter." She stands next to the stove as Newkirk climbs out of bed and joins her, rubbing his hands together over the stove for warmth.
"Freddie, I've got an idea. Let's celebrate Christmas this year. Just the two of us."
"What do you mean?"
"Start our own traditions. You know, lay the groundwork for how our children will celebrate with us." He takes her by the shoulders and looks deep into her eyes. "Look, I don't know how long we'll be stuck here and I wanna make everyday with you count. I wanna start thinkin' of the future instead of fearin' that it won't come." She looks at his chest, then back up to his eyes.
"You're right. We shouldn't be afraid of tomorrow. We should prepare for it." He smiles and pulls her closer. "Yeah. Oh, I almost forgot. What are you doin' tomorrow night?"
"Same thing I always do on Thursday nights, read and sleep. Why?"
He reaches into his breast pocket and pulls out a fancy looking envelope. "I wanted to ask you if you'd like to go to a party with me at the-" he looks at the envelope "-Hiltmann-Graf Hotel." Her eyes get big as she grabs the invitation.
"Where did you get this?" she asks.
He beams with pride. "I found it in a mailbag on the mail truck. Addressed to Count von Hoffenschmidt, Waffen-SS."
"Das glaube ich nicht (I don't believe you)! You stole this?"
"I didn't steal it, I barrowed it." He looks at her and holds her again. "Come on, Freddie. Tell me you'll go on the town with me tomorrow night. Be my countess."
"And spend someone else's deutchmark?"
"Yeah."
She smiles wide. "Sounds like fun." They laugh and she hugs him again.
The following day, just after mid-day mess, Newkirk rushes down into the tunnel and goes through LeBeau's makeup kit, looking for some white makeup for his hair.
Hogan, who's coming down to try and make radio contact with London, catches him in the act. "Newkirk, what are you doing?"
Startled, Newkirk turns around and practically falls down. "Nothin'!"
"Makeup?" asks Hogan. The he looks at the Englishman with one eyebrow raised and jokes with him. "Have you been spending too much time with Freddie?"
Newkirk looks at the comb and the jar of white goop in his hands. "Uh... no, sir. She was goin' to show me how to age my hair properly. You know, incase I've gotta portray an old man."
"Oh," says Hogan, dismissing him. "Carry on."
Newkirk waits for Hogan to go into the radio room before he darts up the ladder.
Freddie waits for Newkirk to return, so in the meantime, she reads London's description of von Hoffenschmidt. Newkirk comes in and immediately dumps the makeup out of his coat pockets.
"I don't know if I can make you look like Hoffenschmidt," she says, still reading and looking doubtful.
"Why not?" he asks. "Is he taller than me?"
"No. He's about 50 years old and in the neighborhood of 210 lbs., with two scars on his face, one on either side, and he's graying slightly."
Newkirk looks at himself. "210 lbs.? I'm 5'9'', how the hell am I gonna fit 210 lbs. of fat on me? I'm barely 163 now."
"You could say you went on a diet."
He looks at her. "Well, if it's any consolation, you don't look a thing like his wife."
Freddie reads on, her face souring as she reads aloud. "Oh, God. She's about the same age, but she's built like the Hindenburg!"
Newkirk laughs. "Go ahead and try to duplicate that."
She shakes her head. "I don't wanna."
"Looks like ol' Hoffenschmidt is goin' to have an affair with a young, beautiful fraulein, huh?"
"Unless I go to the motorpool and blow myself up with the air compressor."
"No," Newkirk says as he puts his arms around her. "I'd hate to squeeze you later and have you sound like an accordion... or worse." Both of them laugh loudly at the implied meaning. "Come on, love, let's get-"
LeBeau barges into the hut. "Forgive the intrusion, mon amis, but Colonel Hogan wants to see all of us in his quarters right now. Sounds very important."
"Here's the deal," starts Hogan. "The Underground told us that there's a man they want to get a hold of by the name of Fritz Stempel. He's a bio-physicist who's willing to come over to our side and London wants us to grab him before he's caught by the Gestapo. Evidently, he's got information about the Nazis evil genetics experiments."
"What's the plan, sir?" asks Newkirk.
"Rumor is that he's staying at the Hiltmann-Graf Hotel. All we got to do is find him, pick him up, and send him through to London."
Freddie looks at Newkirk, only to find him looking back at her with a 'we can do this' expression on his face. "Sir, I volunteer to apprehend Stempel."
"Me too, sir," says Newkirk.
"I knew I could count on you two," answers Hogan. "We'll spring into action tomorrow night."
"'We', sir?" asks Newkirk. "I thought Freddie and I could maybe take care of this alone-"
"You will. Both of you will capture him and send him out to LeBeau and Carter, who'll be waiting outside. They'll bring him back to camp and we'll ship him out."
"Couldn't Peter and I bring him back for you?" presses Freddie. "The fewer agents outside the gates will make it a lot easier. And Stempel won't get nervous and run."
Hogan thinks about this for a moment. "Maybe you're right. He may get suspicious and turn on you if there's too many of us around. Alright, you two bring him back."
The relieved pair answer, "Yes sir."
Newkirk sits still as Freddie combs some of the white makeup through his hair. It's hard to tell how much makeup is in his hair because of the poor lighting in the tunnel.
"How long will this stuff stay in?" he asks.
"Until you wash it out," she explains. "At least, I think it'll wash out. May have to scrub you like a rug, but I'm sure it'll come out."
He waits for her to come around in front of him again so he can pull on her waist, causing her to fall forward and straddle him as she sits on his lap. "So, little girl," he says, "do you think you could love this old man for the rest of your life?"
She smiles. "Ask me in about 80 years, when my hair's gray." She leans forward and kisses him, then goes back to coloring his hair as she continues sitting on his lap.
Rubbing his hands over her waist, he says, "You know, I hope we can pull this off and still have some time to enjoy ourselves. After all, this was supposed to be a night of firsts for us."
"I think everything will go fine, so I wouldn't waste time worrying about it." She smiles and says, "Besides, there's always New Year's."
"Mmmm...," he says, closing his eyes and smiling. She sets down the comb on the table and picks up a small jar of spirit gum.
"Ok, my lovely. Time to give you a couple of scars." Freddie opens the jar and dabs a small amount of the gum on Newkirk's cheek just below his cheekbones. She blows on it, then taps it with her finger to tack it up. She pinches his skin together and creases it, sticking the skin to itself. As that side dries, she sets the other side, doing the same thing.
Once his scars dry, Newkirk tries on a monocle as Freddie fits him with a moustache, completing the finishing touches of his makeup.
She looks at the new man before her. "There you are, Count von Hoffenschmidt," she says in her native cadence.
He smiles at her and takes her hands as he says in a German accent, "My countess. You are... most beautiful." He raises her hand to his lips and kisses it, his eyes never leaving hers.
"Stop it, Peter," she laughs, "I might fall for this guy and leave you."
"I'm not worried," he says in his familiar English tongue, gently pulling her into him. "I know how to make you come back." He kisses her neck softly and sweetly.
"You're right," she sighs. "I could never leave you. You're the first man who could ever love me completely." They look into each others eyes. "I better go get changed." She disappears behind the curtain and proceeds to slip into the first dress she's worn since her mother's funeral.
"Do you need any help?" he asks.
"No," she answers, "because I know you'll try to sneak a peek, you dirty old man."
Both of them start laughing. "Aw, but liebchen," he says in his German accent, "I'm so lonely and have no von to shnuggle vis at night." She comes out from behind the curtain wearing a beautiful white one piece gown with sequins sown on the bodice, carrying her small matching white clutch and gloves. He stands in complete awe, his eyes fixed upon her.
"Well," she asks as she fixes her straps, "what do you think? LeBeau made this for me out of old sheets from the guards barracks." She watches him as he slowly comes over to her. He takes her hands in his and looks her over again.
"This is the first time," he says slowly, "I've ever seen you look like a woman. I mean, I've only seen you in pants since we met. You've been down an' dirty with all of us men, but..." He touches her bare arms. "My God, I'm goin' to marry a beautiful, gorgeous woman in Europe after the war."
She puts her arms around his waist and says very simply, "Thank you, Peter."
Later that night, at the hotel, Newkirk and Freddie keep an eye out for Stempel while at the party. Many of the area's top Nazi officials are in attendance.
Freddie goes over to Newkirk, who's standing by the punchbowl getting them some drinks. "When do you think we should leave to look for Stempel?" she asks.
The small band in the corner begins playing a slow song, calling all the couples to the dance floor. "After this song." He sets down their glasses and holds out his arm to her. "Shall we?" She smiles and takes his arm, letting him escort her out to the dance floor. Newkirk takes her hand in his and brings his other hand around her waist. Freddie sets a hand on his shoulder and steps close to him. This is the first time the two of them have danced together.
"So," Newkirk begins in his false German accent, "are you enjoying yourself, my dear?"
"Ja, mein liebe (Yes, my love). I am," Freddie answers with a smile. He leans in and kisses her on the lips ever so softly, then touches her cheek to his. "I am having a wonderful time."
As they turn, Newkirk watches as four men dressed in SS black walk swiftly out of the ballroom. "You may have to put that wonderful time on hold, love. I think the real party's about to begin."
"What?" she asks as she turns her head towards the door.
"Four men in black just left and they didn't look happy."
Freddie looks him in the eyes. "Maybe we better check it out." With that, the two leave the dance floor and head out the door.
Outside, they look around for the men. "Alright," says Freddie. "Go to the desk and ask which room Stempel's in, I'll head upstairs."
"Right." Newkirk goes to the desk as Freddie, trying to look innocent, heads upstairs.
The last of the four men head into a room in the middle of the hall. As she gets closer to see a room number, Newkirk catches up to her.
"Room 114. The clerk says he's been there all evening. Hasn't seen him come or go."
"Good. Then hopefully we can get him and leave without incident." They quietly slink down the hall, passed the room where all the men entered, and knock on Stempel's door.
The door opens. "Yes?" asks a little old man. He eyes flash fear when he sees Newkirk in his SS uniform.
"Herr Stempel?" asks Freddie.
He's more hesitant to answer. "Yes? What do you want?"
"We're with Papa Bear in Hammelburg," says Newkirk. "We've come to get you and send you to London." The old man's face relaxes.
"Oh, thank God. I thought you were with them."
"Who, Herr Stempel?" Freddie inquires.
"The gentlemen next door. They've been watching me since I got here." Freddie walks passed Stempel and gets his hat and coat.
"Come with us now. We don't have much time," she says. They escort Stempel down the hall, out of the hotel, and to their car outside without any interference.
In the damp tunnel, Freddie changes out of her Cinderella-like gown and back into her army fatigues. She carefully puts the dress back on the hanger and hangs it on the rack with the other costumes.
As she rounds the corner, she sees Newkirk bent over a barrel full of water, scrubbing his hair.
"Would you like some help?" she asks.
"I could use it, thanks." She steps next to him and soaps up her hands before scrubbing along. "When you're 70, if you look half as good as you did tonight, then I'm going to be a very happy old lady."
He laughs as she washes his hair. "Thanks."
"I mean it. I think you'll be a very handsome older man." She pours a small bucket of water over his head, rinsing some of the white makeup out of his brown hair.
"Looks like you'll have to spend the rest of your life with me to find out then, huh?" he says.
"Yes, I'm afraid so. But I think I'll manage."
In the other room, Hogan gives Kinchloe and Carter their instructions and explains the situation to Stempel.
"Thank you, Colonel," says Stempel, shaking Hogan's hand. "Thank you for my second chance at life."
Hogan smiles. "You're welcome. You're in good hands. Carter and Kinchloe have done this several times, and they've never lost a customer." Stempel smiles as Carter and Kinchloe walk him down to the other end of the emergency tunnel. Newkirk comes in from the other room, drying his hair. Freddie follows him in.
"Louis," asks Freddie, "do you think it's possible to save the dress you made?"
"Of course," he says. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, I was thinkin' maybe I could use it as my wedding dress."
LeBeau smiles proudly. "Absolutment, mon cheri. I will box it up and keep it safe for you." He takes the dress from the rack and goes into the storage room.
Hogan approaches Freddie and Newkirk. "Nice job out there tonight. It was a close call, but you did it."
"How close, sir?" asks Newkirk.
"Stempel told me about the goons down the hall from him, and it sounds like they were trailing him. You guys got him out of there in the nick of time."
"I had no idea, Colonel," says Freddie, a little surprised at what could have transpired. "At least now he's safe and on his way to England."
24 December. Barracks #4 is dark except for the flicker of a candles on the table. Newkirk lays on Freddie's bunk with her in his arms. "So," he asks, "d'you still hate Christmas?"
She laughs a little. "Yeah."
The room falls silent again as he closes his eyes and holds her.
"What's your favorite Christmas carol?" he asks, stroking her hair.
"I don't have a favorite," she says, trying not to answer the question.
"Everyone's got one," he coaxes. "Even me. I loved it as a kid when we'd all sing 'Come all ye faithful' while m'grandfather played the piano." He cuddles her a little closer. "Come on, love. What was the song that you and your cousins sang as you decorated your tree?"
She can't avoid his prodding anymore. She looks up at him and answers, "We used to sing 'Stille Nacht' because it was the only one we all knew. Even my Jewish relatives knew it."
"How's it go?"
"It's 'Silent Night' in German. It goes the same way the English one does."
He nuzzles her and whispers, "Sing it for me." She looks at him like he's grown a third eye. "Please sing it. I've never heard a German Christmas carol before." Freddie sighs, then smiles a little.
"Oh, very well." She takes moment to remember the words, then she begins.
"Stille Nacht, heilige nacht.
She looks at Newkirk, who's smiling back at her. "That was beautiful," he says.
"Well," she says, "it's lost it's meaning, but maybe our kids will be happy when they sing it."
"I don't have a doubt in my mind," he says, smiling. He sits up as he remembers something. "You know what?"
"Huh?"
He stands up and holds a hand out to her. "We never finished that dance from the other night." She smiles and takes his hand as he leads her over to the middle of her bunkroom.
"Peter, we can't finish it."
"Why not?"
"There's no music." He slowly and gracefully holds her like he did on the dance floor.
"So we'll dance to the music in our hearts, Freddie." She smiles, leans in, and kisses him.
"You're right." Slowly, they started moving around the floor. Not even the sound of the creaky floorboards or their boots scuffing the floor disturbed the vibe that their hearts made.
"Whatdya want Santa Claus to bring you this year?" he asks, making her smile.
"A pair of bolt cutters, some C4 explosives, and a machine gun." He responds with a laugh of his own. "Seriously, I don't think I could ask for anything that I don't already have."
"No?"
"No." Freddie looks Newkirk in the eyes and says, "Because you were the greatest present I ever got. Everything I need is behind your smile, in your eyes, or in your arms. And I didn't have to wait until Christmas or my birthday for you."
Newkirk's touched by her words. "I only hope I can make you as happy tomorrow as I have made you in the past."
"I have no doubts, Peter." He lets go of her hand and embraces her tightly, causing her to do the same.
"Merry Christmas, Fredricha my love."
"Frohe Wiehnachten, Peter. Mein liebe." And in the strong embrace of each other's arms they danced, until sleep peppered their eyes and the fond memories of past holidays filled their dreams.