Schultz entered the barracks with a broad smile on his face, and performed a verse with dignity and passion. The man knew how to work an audience.

Bald ist heilige Nacht, Chor der Engel erwacht, Hört nur wie lieblich es schallt:Freue dich, Christkind kommt bald!

Newkirk sat up on his bunk, looking sleepy and sweaty but smiling softly, as Schultz sang the beautiful melody. Hogan appeared at his door, his face light, his eyes merry.

As Schultz concluded and took a small bow, Hogan stepped toward the table and translated the lyrics, reciting in a croaky and nasal voice:

Soon his journey he'll take, choir of angels awake, hear how sublime it does ring, the Christ Child's birth we will sing.

"Lovely, that," Newkirk said from his perch on his bunk. "It's, it's called 'Softly Falls the Snow' in English, LeBeau. We used to sssing it in S-Sunday School."

All eyes turned up to him in shock.

"What? I had a proper upbringing, I did. Mavis and mmy mum saw to that," Newkirk said indignantly. Then he grinned. "I was on my w-way to altar boy until they caught me looking fffunny at the collection plate." He jumped down to the floor and stretched, then took a seat at the table beside Kinch, who greeted him with a warm smile and an arm around his shoulder.

Hogan slid into his place at the table too, sitting beside Carter and clapping his forearm warmly. "Whew, that was a good rest," Hogan said. "Thanks for making sure we got some peace and quiet, LeBeau. What's in that pot? And is there enough for Schultzie?"

"Of course, Schultz can have a bite to eat," LeBeau said. Standing at the stove and stirring the broth, he looked at Hogan apologetically. "But peace and quiet, mon colonel? I couldn't get anyone to shut up." He consulted his watch. "We've been bombarded by Christmas carols for the past six hours!"

"Well, if you're going to be b-b-bombarded on Christmas Day, that's the stuff to be b-bombarded with, innit?" Newkirk said. "Come on, now. W-what have you cooked up?"

"Chicken broth," LeBeau said simply. "I've got some boiled potatoes and carrots to go with it. And I think there's still some plum pudding for dessert."

"Perfect," Hogan said. "Bring it on. I could eat a horse."

"You don't sound like a toddler anymore, Sir," LeBeau said. Oops. He hadn't meant to say that out loud. "I mean to say, your enunciation is better."

"I've been g-giving him lessons," Newkirk said. Everyone laughed at that.

While his friends sat at the table and ate, LeBeau hovered at the stove, picking at a dish he'd prepared for himself, but not quite ready to eat yet. There were some things one shouldn't do on a full stomach.

He climbed on a chair and cleared his throat. "Attention, mes potes. Joyeux noël aux meilleurs amis qu'un homme ait jamais eus. C'est mon cadeau à vous tous."

"What'd he say?" Carter asked. "It sounded nice, but what was it?"

"Wait for it, Carter," Newkirk whispered. "He said something about 'best friends.' And cadeau is a present. That's all you need to know."

LeBeau drew himself up to his full height, closed his eyes, then sang in his glorious tenor:

Douce nuit, sainte nuit, dans les cieux! L'astre luit. Le mystère annoncé s'accomplit, cet enfant sur la paille endormi, c'est l'amour infini! C'est l'amour infini!

Carter's silky voice joined in as LeBeau sang the second verse, making it a round:

Silent night, holy night, shepherds quake at the sight. Glories stream from Heaven afar, heavenly hosts sing Hallelujah. Christ the Saviour is born, Christ the Saviour is born.

Then Schultz added his rich baritone to the round. The three voices soared, as each man held his own part. The blending of languages deepened the emotional impact of perhaps the most beautiful Christmas carol.

Stille Nacht! Heilige Nacht! Die der Welt Heil gebracht, aus des Himmels goldenen Höhn, uns der Gnaden Fülle läßt seh'n, Jesum in Menschengestalt, Jesum in Menschengestalt.

By the sixth verse, Newkirk had taken the song title to heart and slumped into Kinch's shoulder, snoring once again. But when the voices stilled, he started in with a tuneless squall:

Sleep in heavenly pe-eace, sle-ep in heavenly peace

"You sound very nice, Pierre," LeBeau said without a hint of sarcasm. "Now go back to sleep."

And all was silence.