Dear Mom,
 
    Today was hard. It is almost Christmas now, and the weather is very cold over here. Even though I don't want to admit
it, frostbite, hunger, and combat fatigue is slowly destroying my men. Three of our newest replacements came up missing
yesterday. This morning we found the kids, now just frozen corpses in the snow. I don't know how much longer we can hold
out here without more winter supplies. On top of all this, we can't find Lt. Hanley, our platoon leader. We got separated
during a patrol, and he never made it back. For all I know he could be dead or a German prisoner by now. I always thought
that Hanley would survive this war...
 
    That just shows you how wrong you can be. The men are hoping that the Lieutenant will show up soon. I don?t know, maybe
he will. I?m just not sure about anything anymore. All I want is to have the whole platoon back together again. You always
told me that Christmas is a time miracles, for angels, but I don?t believe in angels now. And even if there were angels,
they wouldn?t be here.
 
    Chip Saunders looked down at the piece of paper that lay before him; the letter he knew that he could never send. The
deep depression and anger reflected in those words frightened even the battle weary sergeant who had written them. What
would his gentle mother think if she read them? No, he would write a long letter of lies to send home to a family that
would never know how much he had suffered. The pain of war seemed to be stacking up all at once. All of those dead
replacements and now Lt. Hanley...that hurt a lot. Saunders just did not want to face the fact that his affable officer
with the easy smile and deep knowing eyes had been lost to him forever. The two had been through so much together that Chip
doubted if any other officer could ever quite fill Hanley's shoes.
 
    Pushing away the pain and the face of his former friend from his mind, Saunders stood up from the spot that he had been
resting in and coldly eyed his shivering men. It was time to move out. Company wanted a patrol to locate a good spot for an
OP and Christmas angels were not going to do it for them. The soldiers were starting to drift off to sleep, and once they
did it would be a near impossible task to get them moving again.
 
****
 
    Lt. Gil Hanley lay bleeding in the deep snow. He knew that he would bleed to death without help soon, but no one was in
sight. Hanley had long ago lost the strength to try to make it back to his men alone. As the light snow began to turn into
a raging blizzard, Gil realized he would soon be completely buried. It did not make any difference now, the officer noted
with a hint of sarcasm. The snow would only save the burial detail the job of having to dispose of his body. Fear of death
dimmed as it drew mercifully closer. Hanley's last thought before he passed out was that Christmas is a strange time for a
man to die.
 
****
 
    The howling wind grew stronger by the minute, and the snow fell forcefully upon the Americans. Private William G. Kirby
let it be known to all that he wanted to turn back, but one look from Saunders shut him up quickly. They had a patrol to
finish and Saunders never turned back until his mission was completed. It was a reputation that had earned the tough noncom
great respect among officers and green recruits alike. But even the tenacious sergeant felt a strange urgency to get back
to headquarters before they all were either frozen or killed by their own carelessness. That was about the time that the
tank arrived.
 
    A German panzer loomed ahead, silhouetted by the storm in the middle of the "no man's land." None of the GIs could have
determined where it came from, and the howling of the blizzard had covered the sound of the approaching death machine. The
tank opened fire on the small group and chaos reigned. Without thought of orders, Saunders' organized patrol of soldiers
melted away into a multitude of frightened men. Saunders let is legs carry him deep into the woods and far, far away from
the deadly shells. Slowly the sounds of war were replaced by the violent storm. It was then that Chip Saunders first
discovered that he was lost. He was completely lost and entirely alone.
 
****
 
    With an exclamation of surprise, Saunders fell face down into the deep snow. He had been wandering aimlessly through
the blinding snow for hours, with no success in finding any trace of the others. Something in the snow had tripped the
exhausted GI and had sent him sprawling. Saunders gritted his teeth and looked over to see what had been the cause of his
fall. His eyes straining to see through the endless wall of white, the soldier caught a glimpse of a GI boot sticking out
of a deep snowdrift. He crept silently over to the body of the American and gave a sharp cry of astonishment when he saw
the officer's insignia on the "corpse's " shirt collar. Wiping the snow from the officer's pale face, Saunders found
himself looking into the deep green eyes that he had never expected to see on earth again.
 
    Lt. Hanley was oblivious to the cold, the snow, and even his shivering sergeant. He looked up took notice of Saunders
with a weary smile.
 
    "Surprise." Hanley smiled grimly at his joke until he noticed the concern on his friend's face. "Saunders, where is the
rest of the patrol?" His noncom remained silent as he began to pull Hanley through the fallen snow. "What are you trying to
do, Sergeant?" the lieutenant asked with his eyes full of disbelief.
 
    " I'm going to try to find us some shelter, Lieutenant. We can't make it back to our lines
 
    in this blizzard." Saunders' face settled into cold, hard lines of determination. The two men slowly advanced forward,
deeper and deeper into nowhere. After some time of fruitless searching, Hanley pulled free of Saunders' grasp.
 
    "No, Saunders. I've had it. No more guns, green privates, or lousy missions for this weary foot soldier." Hanley knew
that he sounded like a bad movie script, but the dying man just wanted his friend to go ahead and leave him alone to die in
peace. "I can't..." Gil struggled to continue but passed out before he was able to finish.
 
    Ignoring his officer's dismal speech, Saunders stubbornly pushed on. A dim light from a short distance caught his
concentration. Still bone tired but now filled with a sense of hope, the sergeant moved toward that glow. As he reached the
top of the snow covered rise, a small cottage came into the soldier's view. Although the light only burned from a feeble
lantern, Chip Saunders felt like he was seeing a small piece of heaven in the midst of a raging hell.
 
****
 
    The face of a young girl peeked cautiously out the small cottage entrance at the rough looking man who had come
knocking at her door. Without a word, the small child held the door open wide in a silent invitation. Saunders looked down
at the unconscious officer that he held tightly in his worn hands. Giving an unsuccessful nudge to revive Hanley, he
accepted the invitation as he struggled to bring his lieutenant past the small doorway.
 
    "Thank you" Saunders tried to get out, but his voice was parched from the bitter cold. He turned toward the girl, who
was now getting blankets for the freezing men who had been placed under her tender care. "I need-uh-bandages...you know?"
Saunders put his hands to his right shoulder and pretended to wrap an invisible bandage around it. The child's face showed
pleasure at the prospect of playing nurse to the wounded man. Saunders continued to question the busy girl. "Uh, where is
your papa? Your mama? Your family? Uh..." an approaching vehicle abruptly interrupted his questions. A German staff car
came into view and the sergeant jumped into action. He grabbed an armful of blankets and bandages while pulling Hanley down
the cellar stairs of the small house at the same time.
 
    All of the sudden movement brought Hanley back from his oblivious state, and the lieutenant cried out in pain as his
noncom awkwardly carried him down to the dank cellar. Saunders shoved the officer behind the staircase and covered Hanley's
bleeding, unattended body with a blanket. As Sergeant Saunders started for the stairs, he heard the sound of a deep German
voice, not unlike Hanley's own, in the house. No time now to rescue the girl. Chip could only hope that somehow the German
would leave the child unharmed and not ask her too many questions. His prayers were answered.
 
****
 
    The voices from above droned on in deep conversation. The girl's sweet, happy chatter mingled with the man's low
laughter. Both voices were in German and the intimate communication between the man and child made it quite obvious that he
was her father. Saunders wanted to scream with frustration. A cunning child who would now turn them both over to her
father?s mercy had led him into a trap. Saunders longed for his Thomson, but knew it had been lost to him in the storm.
When he first had laid his eyes upon her, Saunders had been certain she was an angel. Had he instead placed his sick
lieutenant into the hands of a hardened enemy? Judging integrity quickly had always been one of his stronger points. Was
that consolation gone like everything else that had been taken from him during the past few months? Hidden in the darkness
beside of him, Hanley let out a soft, anguish-filled groan. Saunders felt that the officer's moan reflected the wound that
Chip carried in his own heart. The two cries of the soldiers, one audible and one silent, only added to the dark misery of
the night, and it contrasted sharply with the happy chatter above.
 
****
 
    Saunders' racing heart had almost slowed back down to its normal rate. So much had happened since the miserable night
when Saunders had first entered into the cottage. The snow continued to fall outside, but the two Americans were warm and
comfortable inside. For some unknown reason the child had decided to shelter the two GIs. She brought them food, feeding
Hanley when he had been too weak to feed himself. Along with the food, the little nurse had tended the lieutenant almost
expertly, Saunders noted. Already much of the color had returned to Hanley's unshaven face. The girl had formed a strange
bond with the weary, helpless officer. She spent every spare moment entertaining Gil, much to his amusement. Hanley
thoroughly enjoyed her company, but Saunders only held a cold apprehension for his young rescuer. Children were unreliable
and often fickle. Who could say when she might decide to inform her father of there presence? The minute she chose to do
so, it would all be over. These thoughts were trapped in the solitude of Chip's mind as he watched her curled up in the
center of Hanley's lap. The girl's sweet whispering made the officer chuckle as the two looked at an old picture book. As
he turned the page of the story, Hanley glanced up into the accusing eyes of Sergeant Saunders as if he were seeing him for
the very first time.
 
    The sound of a familiar approaching staff car cut the little child's laughter short. She quickly closed the book and
raced up the stairway to greet her father.
 
****
 
    Noel was a child who was easily pleased, and her father delighted her. True, he was often away, but what soldier was
not during this war? She was very fortunate that he had been stationed so close to their old farmhouse. It would not have
mattered anyway, Noel decided. Her father would have taken her anywhere with him if she asked. The two had shared a common
loss after the invading American shells had killed her mother. To her dismay, Noel discovered that the bond had started to
fade away like an old garment as the war continued to rage on. Noel say things that were far beyond her tender years.
Nothing ever escaped her clear, blue eyes. She noticed the cold, distant glance from her father that now all too often
replaced his loving smile. The war was affecting him. Changing him from a young father devoted to his daughter to a
brilliant soldier totally pledged to victory at all costs. No, she would not tell him about them. At this present time her
father just would not understand about the two Americans. How could she expect him to if she did not even understand her
own feelings of conviction? That she only wanted to hold and comfort the wounded soldier with the deep voice and clear
green eyes; to make him whole again so that he could escape to kill more families with his army's horrible shells? How
could she ever possibly explain in words that only the thoughts of the dark American in any pain whatsoever made her sick
with sadness? It could not be that the stranger reminded her of a past friend because he did not. In fact, Noel had never
laid eyes upon any man quite like him before. She only knew that she loved him desperately deep down inside her heart. Noel
cared for him almost as much as she had adored her mother and that feeling frightened her more than nay bullet ever could.
 
****
 
    Now left alone, Hanley shifted his gaze from where the child had once been back to his seething sergeant. The silence
between them had grown long and uncomfortable, very different from the friendly quiet that had so often existed between the
two men. Unable to bear the hostile solitude for another minute, the officer decided to speak up.
 
    "Well, Saunders, what's on your mind?" Hanley whispered softly into the darkness, trying to get through to his noncom
and to somehow magically tear down that formidable wall Chip always held firmly in place.
 
    "You're too weak to stand through a fight, Lieutenant. How do you know that she will be there to catch you when you
fall? Saunders' fierce answer startled the unsuspecting Hanley. It reflected the hours of anxiety that his friend had
endured, worrying for them both when the lieutenant had been too sick to worry about himself.
 
    "A good soldier has to take any aid or comfort he can get from whatever source he can find. He takes chances every day
he lives and has to hope for the best." Hanley's cold answer was filled with contempt for Saunders' unbelief.
 
    The two men fell silent and each tried to get some sleep. Hanley fell into a deep slumber after only a few short
minutes. Saunders smiled grimly to himself in the night, realizing how different he was from his superior officer. Two
different views, he pondered. I see the cup half empty, but no matter how close the drink is to the bottom of the glass
Hanley will always see it as half full. The lieutenant trusts people too much; it's too easy for people to hurt him. Maybe
that's the reason why he can be older than I am and still have a boy's smile. As Chip Saunders lay in the cold cellar he
wondered how a man like Lt. Gil Hanley would ever manage to survive the war with both mind and body intact.
 

****
 
    A soft creak intruded the blissful silence as Noel's dainty feet glided from step to step. She carefully made her way
down the dark, narrow staircase that led to the damp room below. Noel reached the bottom of the stairway and drifted
gracefully to the familiar corner. She stood for s long moment, her eyes fixed lovingly upon the two dozing men. Crouching
down to the floor, the child ran a soft finger across the sleeping officer's kind face. He had improved a noticeable amount
since that winter night, and as much as she had learned to hate the idea, the soldier would soon have to rejoin his men.
How Noel longed to keep the young American! He had almost become the older brother Noel had never known. Giving him up
would hurt very much, but she understood that a leader must be among his men. The tenderness in her heart reached out to
the soul of the officer and, sensing the girl's presence, the resting man stirred.
 
    Lt. Hanley's eyes opened to gaze directly into the child's face. She gave him a short smile and, with a sweet giggle,
whispered something in German. Acknowledging the fact that the young lieutenant could not understand, Noel rose her hands
in the motion of sleeping to show Hanley how alert he had been. The lieutenant rewarded her with one of his unique grins as
he comprehended the meaning of her hand motions, and then turned to Saunders.
 
    The sergeant woke up abruptly. Struggling to wipe the sleep from his eyes, he raised his head to find his officer and
the child sitting together smiling broadly at him.
 
    "Good morning, Saunders. Sleep well?" Hanley joked.
 
    Chip Saunders turned, his eyes penetrating the amused lieutenant. What was he talking about? Had he really fallen
asleep after that endless night? How could this man just sit there smiling, Saunders wondered, when just the week before he
had been ready to die from pain? Oh well, the noncom decided; he could never figure Hanley out anyway. Why should he start
now? Whatever the reasons, Hanley's wounds were healing fast. It was time to move on.
 
    Saunders made his way to the single window that allowed a small portion of sunlight to enter their shelter. A golden
beam poured through the opening, revealing a calm glistening-white world. The blizzard was only nightmare of the past. Yes,
if they were going to leave this place forever, it would have to be today.
 
    Saunders let his gaze drift from the dirty glass back to the two friends. They sat whispering secrets like a couple of
school children talking behind their teacher's back. It did not matter that they spoke different languages; the man and
child simply took enjoyment in the pleasure of the other. All signs of Second-Lieutenant Hanley of King Company were gone
like a fading vapor while Gil and Noel chatted as brother would with his sister. The sergeant could not conceal his smile
and he wondered if Lt. Hanley had a family back in the States. His officer was not the type to offer a lot of personal
information so Saunders had never asked. It was strange, the Sarge reflected, how you could eat, sleep, fight, and possibly
die beside a man without even knowing if he had loving arms waiting for him at the end of the long road to Berlin. Saunders
wanted to know more about the lieutenant very badly, but he also knew that he would never have the courage to ask. Such
questions might even be considered rude. No, it would be better to just turn back to the business at hand.
 
    "Lieutenant," Saunders studied Hanley as he spake, hoping that hearing his rank spoken would turn Gil back into a
soldier again. "Lieutenant, the snow has stopped." The silent message in the blue eyes was clear: Alright Lieutenant, I've
done all I can do alone. Now the rest is up to you. Tell me what I should do and I will do it. You are my leader, my
lieutenant, so please command me! Please, please don't let me down because I trust you with my life. I always have and I
always will.
 
The dark man looked from Noel to Saunders, his happy reverie broken by the few words spoken with so much feeling. The inner
soldier inside of the man, that fierce, quiet warrior, slowly came back to life and prepared again for battle after so many
hours of rest. Before Hanley spoke a word to her, Noel knew that he was leaving. She had known that he must for some time.
Noel longed to communicate with him in her language and to tell him that she understood why he was going away. Finding that
the motions to convey her feelings just would not come, the small girl wrapped her loving arms around his neck in an open
show of affection and grief. One small tear trickled down her rosy cheek as the lieutenant returned the hug and planted a
tender kiss on her face. That single tear sealed the unspoken farewell between the two hearts, and Gil was ready to move
on.
 
    "Let's go, Saunders." Hanley's deep voice held authority and brought relief to the noncom's mind. The shorter but
stronger of the two soldiers pulled his friend to his feet and together they ascended the wooden steps. Reaching the main
room, Noel opened the front door. Her sweet smile betrayed her ignorance of what stood on the other side.
 
****
 
    Horror beyond his wildest dreams filled Sergeant Saunders and held him captive until he could not move an inch. His
eyes looked straight into the cold grey eyes of Colonel Kurt Kleiber, one of the most infamous German officers in occupied
France. Kleiber was a member of the SS and his cruelty in the midst of battle remained a legend among Allied troops. Any
American GI in his right mind would have chosen to die fighting rather than to be taken prisoner by this monster. Saunders
knew that they could not expect any mercy from the colonel, but it would be useless to resist with his dark officer leaning
completely on him for support. So, the girl had deceived the after all! Saunders had known it from the very start; it was
beyond him how Hanley could always be so wrong about judging the intentions of others. The wounded Hanley raised his hands
to let the colonel know that he would not be a threat, but the German refused to honor his surrender.
 
    Kleiber felt angrier than he had ever been in his entire life. Angry with his daughter for betraying him and angry with
the Americans for driving the wedge between them. A subtle form of defiance peeked out from under Noel's dark eyelashes and
Kurt Kleiber despised it. But even more than this, Colonel Kleiber detested the way in which his child clutched the
American officer's waist. She embraced him in a manner that would only be fitting for an intimate friend; she resembled a
sentry guarding a priceless treasure that was about to be lost. The bond of trust that had been lost to Kleiber now existed
between his daughter and an American. The realization brought pain and untold rage.
 
    Uttering a scream of torment mixed with shame, SS Colonel Kleiber shoved Gil Hanley from the shoulder of his comrade to
the cottage floor. The officer fell hard, wincing as the fall brought new agony to his healing bullet wound.
 
    "Get away from him! He is the enemy and I am your father. I shall kill him and end this once and for all!" the hurting
father bellowed in German, aiming his pistol carefully on Hanley's chest.
 
    The two Americans looked up at the furious German in surprise. They both were well aware of the fact that Colonel
Kleiber intended to kill them, but there was absolutely nothing they could do. Had they lived through all the fury of this
war just to perish now because of some German father? He was obviously jealous of all the attention Hanley was getting from
his daughter and wanted the lieutenant to suffer as he was suffering. As he witnessed the scene, Saunders was acutely aware
that Hanley, or even the war itself, was not really the cause of the trauma unfolding before them. The Americans were
simply outward manifestations of the inner conflict between Noel and her father. Colonel Kleiber's eyes were not filled
with hatred for the poor GIs Noel had saved but for the dissention that had torn them apart.
 
    "You cannot stop what I feel for the American with a bullet, Father. He is my brother and I will protect him." Noel's
adult words were spoken coldly and with a finality that could be understood in any language.
 
    "You have no brother! No family in the world except for me!"
 
    "Oh, but that's where you are wrong, Father. This lieutenant loves me more than you do. He is my family now."
 
    " How can he be your brother when he is dead?" Kleiber shouted the word "dead" with all of his heart and pulled the
trigger of his sidearm.
 
    A shot shattered the silence and Colonel Kleiber screamed. He screamed from the very depths of his tortured and dying
soul for his sweet Noel lay bleeding where the American should have been. She had taken the shell for her brother before
the German could stop her; Kurt stood paralyzed at what he had done. Tears rolled down his rough cheeks, as Kurt looked off
into space, seeing nothing but his despair own despair. The indignant German soldier was gone; a grief-stricken man who had
committed the ultimate atrocity against the one he had once loved had replaced him.
 
    For a brief space of time all three of the men had forgotten about the war, or even the other's existence. Hanley
crawled over to Noel's lifeless body, checking her pulse for any sign of life. Finding her dead, the officer's haggard face
lost any trace of emotion as his mind absorbed the shock.
 
    The American NCO reacted not with sorrow but with passion. Chip Saunders tore the German's pistol from his trembling
fingers and rapidly pulled the trigger several times, stitching three bloody holes across the Colonel's tailored uniform
jacket. Kurt Kleiber sank to his knees without a sound, his desperate arms stretched out toward his lost daughter; his eyes
still focused upon her broken body in a final appeal for forgiveness from both God and man.
 
****
 
    Fresh dirt covered the man and mingled with his sweat as Chip Saunders mechanically dug the shallow hole. He had found
an old shovel outside of the cottage; the tool was very rusty from years of hard use, but it was sufficient for only one
grave. The pit that the sergeant was preparing would have to be spacious enough to accommodate two bodies, a once-powerful
man and a small child. Constructing such a resting-place all alone was not an easy task to perform, but the hurt inside of
the man drove him on with super-human strength. Warm tears stung his eyes and dripped down his unshaven cheeks with each
pile of earth removed from the ground. The blue eyes saw nothing; they were as dead as the corpses in the farmhouse
awaiting burial.
 
    "Saunders," the lieutenant's voice rang out soft and filled with uncertainty. The first word attempted since her death.
"Saunders..." Hanley hesitated once more. He did not want to say what he felt he should voice as an officer. "Sergeant,"
(there, that sounded more professional), "You don't have the time to finish digging the grave. WE can send the burial
detail out here later to take care of it. I'll make sure that her body is buried decently."
 
    The blond soldier would not even look up from his job.
 
    "Sergeant, it's not safe to stay here." The growing roar of an approaching barrage added an exclamation point to
Hanley's statement.
 
    Still the laboring noncom refused to respond.
 
    Hanley gave up after his second try. He had known his friend long enough to understand that he could do nothing to
change Saunders' mind once the sergeant had set out to do something. All further orders and threats would go unheeded.
 
    Once the grave was totally finished, Saunders walked solemnly into the house to retrieve the former family from within
while Hanley waited at the tomb's edge. A moment later he returned, dragging the form of Kurt Kleiber behind him. A look of
complete disbelief covered Chip's face, turning it a ghostly white.
 
    "Lieutenant," the sergeant choked out from a parched throat, "She isn't there."
 
    "What?" Hanley's reaction was sudden, his voice incredulous. The darkness of the crisp evening added mystery to the
incident. Light from the distant shelling invaded the night; the men stood, two lonely silhouettes, the war's glow playing
upon their faces like firelight from a campfire.
 
    "She's gone. I went in after her and Noel just isn't there."
 
    "Maybe angels came and took her away." Hanley's answer was strange but seemed to posses all the truth in the world. The
officer's voice held a sweet
reverence that Saunders had only heard once before in his lifetime.
    Many days before, in the midst of a quaint French village, Lt. Gil Hanley had used that same hushed voice, so filled
with child-like faith. Saunders had found a young and incredibly beautiful woman in a secluded garden, protected from the
horrors of war by a kind Supreme Being. Where she had come from or how she had survived was beyond any mortal explanation.
It had been night then too, Saunders recalled the memory like it was yesterday. "Put it this way, Lieutenant," he had said
into the friendly quiet of the night, Those shells were coming in all over. That girl must have had something working for
her these last couple of days."
 
    "Maybe we all have." Hanley's trusting reply echoed inside of the NCO through multiple terrifying battles. Now it was
his turn to speak what lay hidden inside the deep portals of his heart.
 
    "No, Lieutenant, " Saunders breathed a soft prayer of gratitude for hope and innocence in an earth that rarely offered
anything gentle. "She was an angel. Noel was the perfect Christmas angel. We both owe her so much."
 
    And somewhere, above the raging storm of hatred and destruction, the two soldiers could hear the distinctive laughter
of a child at play.

****