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- My name is Fritz Vincken,

and I was 12 years old in 1944 when, on Christmas Eve,

I suddenly found myself in the middle

of what would become the famous Battle of the Bulge.

War does not stop for holidays.

Fighting raged everywhere...

The countryside was littered with bodies and equipment,

- Fritz!

- But my mother was not the kind of person

to let events control her.

- It was the season of goodwill to all mankind...

yet there seemed no end to the war,

no end to the fighting and suffering...

With food and basic supplies almost impossible to find,

and our home destroyed in a bombing raid,

my mother made a momentous decision.

She decided that we must seek refuge

in our family's old hunting cabin.

- As I entered the lonely empty space, I had no idea

it would be the most memorable Christmas of my life.

- Kindly go and get your book.

- In English, Fritz. English.

- I don't see why I must learn English.

Franz Ulmer says that one day soon we will conquer the world

and everyone will have to speak German.

- Really?

And how does he know that?

- His father says so, and he works for the Fuhrer.

- Franz Ulmer's father is a minor official,

and he knows nothing.

- But the Fuhrer knows everything.

- He does not know everything.

He simply forces our people to believe that he does.

- Momma, you mustn't speak like that.

- Your book, Fritz.

- "'Well,' says Buck, 'a feud is this way.'"

"'A man has a quarrel with another man and kills him.'"

Have you ever seen any Americans, Momma?

- Ja, before the war.

Many American tourists would come to visit.

- What were they like?

- Just like us, I suppose, only different.

- I saw an American once...

who had jumped from his burning airplane.

The shoemaker shot him.

He said it was his duty.

- Ah, that was not his duty.

That was murder. Did no one try to stop him?

- Why? The American had been trying to kill us.

Do not worry, Momma.

After Christmas, when I'm called to do my duty,

I will not shoot them.

I will take them prisoner.

- Fritz...

you are not becoming a soldier.

- Oh yes! Willi Ernst has already been called up

and he's only 2 months older than me.

- Listen to me, Fritz. We are not going back to town.

And you're not joining the Hitler Youth and carrying guns.

- But, Momma, it is my duty to--

Poppa?

Poppa!

- Please don't hurt us.

W--We are alone.

- All clear, Sarge.

Bed back here.

Hey, stay where I can see you. Understand?

Not a sound.

- Easy, soldier. Easy.

We've got to clean this thing out.

Get me some hot water...

and the field dressing from my pack.

And keep your eye on those 2 out there.

- Check.

Hey, hey, hey, hey!

Where you going?

- Uh... I... have hot water on the stove.

I'll get it.

- AH, DON'T!! AHHH!

- You speak English too?

- Ja.

- You like Huck Finn?

- Ja.

- What about Tom Sawyer?

- Ja. I like that book very much.

I like Tom. He's a smart boy.

- Hmm. Smart. That's right.

Tom's always on the move.

What else you read?

- Moby Dick. The Last of the Mohicans.

- No kidding?

Those are good books.

What about Mein Kampf?

- No.

- Ah, it's a lousy read anyway.

Here you go.

The lady's taking care of the hot water. It's on its way.

- What do you mean she's taking care of it?

- She's heating it up. - You let her heat it up?

- It's just hot water.

- Are you forgetting something here, Private?

We're at war with these people.

- I know, but it's just-- - But what?

Haven't you seen enough by now to know

they are not to be trusted?

You want them to do something for you,

you keep an eye on them at all times.

Did you?

Huh? Did you keep an eye on them at all times?

- No!

- Then how do you know what she put in it?

- It is hot water.

Just... hot water...

with a clean cloth to... clean the wound.

- We won't be needing you anymore.

Let me give you a piece of advice, Rassy.

You want to make it through this war alive,

the only person you trust is wearing the same uniform as you.

Now, get outta here and dig up some sulpha packs.

We need to disinfect this thing.

- Soldier...

may I ask how long you intend to stay here?

- I don't know, ma'am.

That's something you'll have to take up with the sergeant.

- I take it you are lost.

- Yeah, that's right.

Herbie took a hit,

we carried him from the line

then the snow came in and... well, here we are, huh?

There's no sulpha packs!

- There's gotta be! You keep looking!

- Then... your unit is not very far?

- No, ma'am, it can't be more than...

Those are the kinds of questions you shouldn't be asking.

- Behind the wall... Sarge!

The Krauts are behind the wall! They're behind the wall!

NO! NO!

- Rassy, get in here and give me a hand!

- There's no sulpha packs, Sarge.

- Damn it! Hold him down while I clean this thing out, would you?

- Herbie! Herbie!

Herbie! Herbie! It's OK! It's me! It's Jimmy!

- Jimmy! Jimmy!

What happened? What are we doing here?

- We were hiding behind the wall, remember? OK?

Then the Krauts started shelling and you got hit.

- Hit?

Lemme see!

- No, no! - Lemme see!

- You're gonna be fine, Herbie!

Herbie, you're gonna be fine. It's OK.

The Sarge is taking care of you.

- Sarge? Sarge, am I, am I hit bad?

- It's all right, Herbie. Everything's gonna be all right.

Just relax while I clean this thing out, all right?

- You see? See? It's good. It's good.

Is there any shrapnel in there?

- I don't think so.

I'm no medic, but it looks like this thing went clean through.

Lucky it didn't sever an artery.

You're sure there's no sulpha packets?

- I told you, we're out.

- Perhaps this will help.

It is disinfectant.

- It's OK.

It's all right. It's OK. I know, I know.

- The wound will have to be closed soon

or infection will set in.

- What are you, a nurse or something?

- No. Only a schoolteacher.

- Only?

There's nothing wrong with that.

- Think again, Rassy.

In this country they teach things

that don't belong in any schools.

The little tyke out there has probably

already been fitted for his jackboots.

Where is that kid anyway?

- He is... just outside... bringing in more firewood.

- Get outside and find that kid.

And bring me my carbine.

- Right, it's OK.

- Don't leave me!

- I won't, I won't! It's OK. It's all right.

Sarge!

You better come out here!

- What is it?

- They were right there.

- Lady, I'm not even gonna count to 3.

Unless you tell me right now what you've done--

- I will not tolerate... weapons into my house.

You can have them back when you leave.

- What?

In case you haven't noticed, lady, there's a war on

and your house is right in the middle of it.

That makes it a shelter for my men,

a base of operations, a hospital, a barracks, a bunker,

or whatever the hell else I say it is, until I say it isn't.

Do you understand me?

Rassy, get outside and find out what the kid did with the guns.

Beat it out of him if you have to.

- No!

No!

- You stay here with me!

- No!

- Hey! What's up, buddy?

Getting more firewood, are you? Huh?

That's a... That's a good man!

Where'd you put the guns?

Look, you know this is not gonna work,

so don't make me get angry at you.

Just tell me where you put the guns and we can stay friends.

Damn it, kid, no games.

WHERE'D YOU PUT THE FRIGGIN' GUNS?

Heh...

Of course, some place safe.

Thanks, pal.

- We are not friends. We will never be friends.

- I'm sorry to hear that. Why not then?

- You are an American.

You wish to destroy our country and the Fuhrer.

- Really? And where'd you hear that?

- On the radio.

- No kidding?

Well, you're right about the last part.

If I could get these hands around the Fuhrer's neck,

I'd ring it like a chicken.

Feel good about it too.

But I'm not your enemy, he is.

But his day of reckoning is coming soon.

And that'll be a great day for all of us...

including you, even if you don't know it yet.

Come on!

And don't believe everything you hear on the radio.

Some of the things they say just ain't so.

Come on. Gimme that.

All right?

Get inside, come on!

Get inside, get inside!

OK. Come on. Come on.

Not a word unless I say so, all right?

Halt! Halt!

Don't move!

- Damn!

- Put your weapons down or I'll shoot!

- You stay here and keep quiet.

- Let me go!

- You hear me?

- So you can tell them we're unarmed? I don't think so!

- I could have shouted it out already!

Oh please, he's my son.

- Put your weapons down or I'll shoot!

Tell them to put their guns down or I'll shoot.

Tell them, damn it!

You hear me? Put the weapons down!

- I understood perfectly well what was said Frau.

American soldier, let us talk.

You are alone and there are 3 of us.

- Think again, Herman!

I've got them covered from in here, Rassy!

- Gotcha, Sarge!

Put the guns down before this gets ugly.

- So, my friend, it seems you have an innocent young boy

back there with you.

Surely you do not want him to get hurt.

- What do I care? He's one of yours anyway!

- No! Nein! No!

Stop this all of you! Stop this madness!

- You heard her!

Put your guns down!

- All right then.

- Good! That's real good.

Good. Don't move! Don't move!

- Fritz, stay there!

- Get the gun out here, Sarge!

- All right! Get in the house! Get your men in the house, NOW!

- Go on!

Go on!

- Very clever!

Very clever indeed!

And very clever of you, Frau.

- I said no guns inside the house, Sergeant.

- Are you crazy? Get out of the way!

- No.

No guns.

- I said move aside, lady!

- You might be dead right now if it were not for me.

- She's got a point, Sarge.

- Shut up, Rassy!

Now, move out of the way!

We're going in.

- If you want the comfort of my home,

it will be on my conditions.

The guns remain outside.

- Let's get something straight.

This lady has offered us all shelter for the night.

Her only condition is that we leave the weapons outside

and consider this neutral territory.

You OK with that?

- Ja. Very well.

- I guess we have a deal.

- Thank you.

Fritz!

Take these and put them with the others.

Good boy!

- Merry Christmas, everyone.

- Huh!

- Well... since you are all guests in my house,

let us introduce yourselves.

I am Elisabeth Vincken

and this is my son, Fritz.

Well...

- Sergeant Ralph Blank.

This is Private Jimmy Rassy.

- Leutnant Hans Klosterman.

This is Sergeant Marcus Muller.

Private Peter Heinrich.

- What was that? You got something to say?

- He says that you are trouble.

- Well, he's got that right.

- Not in my house!

Do your men speak any English, Herr Leutnant?

- Ja, the Sergeant. But not Private Heinrich.

- Then may I suggest that we all do so

in order to avoid any possible confusion.

- Very well then.

- Sarge!

- That's another one of my men.

He's been hit.

I guess it's time we put that deal to the test, huh?

- Sarge!

- You stay here, Rassy, all right?

- Perhaps one of you has some medical knowledge...

The soldier is very badly wounded.

- Well, let us see.

Shall we, Sergeant?

- It's all right, Herbie.

It's all right. Everything's gonna be OK.

- It is a serious wound!

- Yeah, that's right!

- 88s! 88--

- Stay with me, Herbie.

- Damn it, Sarge!

- Listen, I'd love to sit around and chat with you all,

but unless you've got something usef--

I see...

- So...

- Would you kindly heat this up, Frau Vincken?

- Ja.

- The cold spared him infection.

We must cauterize the wound or he may slowly bleed to death.

- No... No!

- Huh! It went right through.

- Are you a medic?

- Wounded. The walking wounded assists the doctors.

- Eastern Front?

- The Eastern Front, Caucasus. Now here.

You...?

- North Africa, Italy, now here.

Join the Army, see the world.

- Ja.

- It seems you have changed sides, Frau Vincken.

Are you aware of the consequences of such an act?

- I am not siding with anyone.

- On the contrary, you have helped the enemy.

And that is an act of treason.

- They forced their way in with guns.

I then agreed to let them stay,

on condition that they leave their weapons outside.

That hardly seems treasonous to me, Herr Leutnant.

- No...

But you could have warned us that they were unarmed.

Yet you did not.

- No I did not.

Because I was afraid that you would start shooting.

Afraid for my son.

- Well...

I hardly think the president of the Peoples' Tribunal...

would consider those mitigating circumstances.

And we know how Herr Freisler deals with traitors.

- Herr Freisler's court is a perversion of justice!

All its judgements are foregone conclusions.

If one can be deemed a traitor

for refusing to renounce one's moral obligations,

then I am indeed guilty.

Now, if you will excuse me...

- Careful, Frau Vincken.

The Americans have not won the war yet.

- Thank you, Frau Vincken.

Kindly go on the other side and help to hold him.

OK, Sergeant?

- Herr Leutnant.

- Yeah, let's do it.

- It's OK. Just relax.

- Easy, Herbie, easy!

Now, everything's gonna be fine, all right?

- You must hold him! Hold him down hard!

HOLD HIM!

Ready?

- Yeah! Go! Go!

Come on, Herbie. Come on, Herbie!

It's good, Herbie!

Shhh...

Come on!

- OH GOD!

- You can do it!

- NO MORE!

- One last time!

- Be tough for me!

- NO! NO!

- One last time! Ready?

- Let's go! Let's go!

- Be tough for me, Herbie. Be tough!

Be tough!

Come on...

- Yeah... yeah... yeah.

- That's right, Herbie. That's right...

It's done. It's done, buddy.

That's it, buddy.

- He will probably be unconscious for a while.

- I'll be damned! The bleeding's stopped.

- Ja, but we need to disinfect and dress the wound properly.

- We will take care of that.

Thank you, Sergeant Muller.

- What are you doing here?

- I am... just trying to do

what I think is right.

My eldest son, Paul,

died at Stalingrad.

He was shot and bled to death

because there was no one there to help him.

No one should have to die like that.

- I--I'm sorry to hear that...

but what I meant was,

why would you bring your boy here at a time like this?

- Our town is under constant bombardment.

It is much safer here.

- Closer to the front lines.

You know they're gonna come right by you in a day or two.

- The war will soon be over.

The sooner the better.

- Is he gonna be all right?

- Ja.

- Thanks.

- It was a noble initiative, Sergeant Muller.

Let us hope your efforts will be rewarded.

The patient is better I hear.

- He'll survive.

- Das ist gut!

One of our units will be here shortly

and then he will receive excellent medical attention.

- I wouldn't count on your boys getting here first.

- But you are already behind our lines.

- Not for long.

- Wishful thinking, Sergeant,

but we shall soon resume the offensive

and have you running back to the English Channel

just like we did to the French and British at Dunkirk.

Only this time we won't make the same mistake,

I assure you.

- I don't think so.

This offensive was your last gasp.

Now the war's almost over and you know it.

We'll be running all right...

running as we kick your sorry butt--

- Gentlemen!

Gentlemen!

I remind you of our agreement.

You will kindly leave your war outside.

- Yes... of course.

Do forgive me, Frau.

I should have realized the Sergeant and I

would have a difference of opinion on such matters.

- I think you and I would have a difference of opinion

about a lot of things.

- May I suggest...

that on this holiest of nights

we try instead to discover what we have in common?

- Hmm...

A night off sounds good to me.

The war'll still be waiting out there for us tomorrow.

- Then it is agreed, hm.

- Yeah.

- Good!

Well, if you will all be patient,

I will prepare us something to eat.

- Ma'am, ma'am, you don't have to do that.

- Yeah, we can take care of ourselves.

- Oh, it is nothing. Only a little potato soup.

But we have learned to be grateful for small things.

Fritz, the dishes, please.

- Well then, I guess it's gonna have to be potluck.

Hey! Come on, you guys, ante up!

- What?

- What's the matter, Lieutenant?

Your momma never tell you:

"Never go to a dinner party empty-handed."

- Ah yes! Of course.

Heinrich! Muller!

Your rations please. Everything on the table.

- What is all this?

- The least we could do is make a little contribution.

- A little?

Danke.

Now we really can have a Christmas dinner.

- That's the idea!

So, let's see what we got here.

Lieutenant Klosterman's generous contribution, huh?

Four slices of rye bread, a piece of bratwurst,

and, uh... a jar of pickled onions.

Hmm! Kind of Spartan, Lieutenant.

- Prussian actually.

I do apologize. This is all I have to offer.

- Well, it's a start!

Let's see what Sergeant Muller's got.

OK, four slices of rye bread, a piece of sausage,

and-- Hello!

What's this?

- Cookies!

- Cookies?

The mighty Wehrmacht marches on cookies?

- My wife made them.

She sends them with every letter.

- That's very generous of you, Sergeant.

Please offer your wife our thanks and, uh...

while you're at it, put in another order for me, huh?

- Ja.

- OK!

Private Heinrich, you're up next.

Let's see what we've got here.

Six slices of bread, a piece of sausage,

and, uh... nothing!

No wife to send you any cookies, Private Heinrich?

How about your momma?

- He says both of his parents--

- I think I understood.

Tell him I'm sorry.

- Ja.

- Well... what about you Americans?

You seem to have come well prepared.

- Always! Boy scouts' motto!

So, let's see what our Sergeant has to offer here.

- Don't lay it on too thick. Just get on with it, huh.

- Righto, Sarge.

Just the menu du jour? No extras?

- That's your department, Rassy.

- Well, here you got a fine example

of American military cuisine.

Your Standard Issue K rations.

Hmm?

One can mystery meat.

One can baked beans, hmm?

Some wheat crackers, peanut butter,

and...

a pineapple pudding.

- This is exactly why the Wehrmacht will prevail.

Hm, what will your poor soldiers do

should your army ever run out of pineapple pudding?

- Ask for banana!

Besides, you haven't tasted it yet.

- Sounds to me like you just might have to get used to

our catering, Lieutenant.

- I think not!

- What about you, Private Rassy, it's your turn.

What have you brought? You seem to have a lot of supplies.

- Must be my, uh, Italian origins, ma'am.

If I'm gonna die, it ain't gonna be of hunger.

- He's also an A-1 scrounger.

- "Negotiator" if you don't mind, Sarge.

- Well, thank you all for your contributions...

Fritz, finish setting the table

and then come and help me in the kitchen.

- Allow me to help you also, Frau Vincken.

- Twelve, sir. I'm sorry sir but...

my mother insists that I speak to you in English.

- Ja, of course.

We mustn't let our friends think we are conspiring against them.

So, tell me Fritz, where is your father, in the Wehrmacht?

- Yes sir, he's in the army.

- Any brothers, sisters?

- My older brother, sir.

He was killed at Stalingrad.

- He died for his country. There is no greater honor.

- No, sir.

- And what about you?

Are you ready to serve in defense of the Fatherland, hm?

- Yes, sir.

I shall join the Hitler Youth as soon as my papers arrive.

- Ah, that is good.

So, you have not been called yet?

- No, sir.

- I see.

Well, I should let you continue.

- Perfect... I think it's ready.

- Liebchen, we need help in here.

- Don't get too cosy here, we're still at war. Remember that.

- I'm sure you wouldn't let me forget that.

- That's right. They might act friendly,

but let's not get careless, all right?

- No, but they did make a deal.

- What? Like the one they made with Stalin?

- Oh, this really is a feast.

And what is this?

Truffes du Perigord. Oh, dear...

This is a luxury!

- What I would give to be out in the forest

on a cool October morning, looking for truffles.

Will we ever do things like that again?

- Ja.

One day. When this cursed war ends.

All this insanity.

How did we ever get fooled into going along with all this?

- I don't know.

- But we were all guilty, I suppose.

I kick myself for not having done something sooner

while there was still time.

- Ja...

Now it is too late.

- Speak out now and they simply take you outside and shoot you.

I know this from personal experience.

- Not your husband?

- A friend. Another schoolteacher.

My husband is with the army.

He's a baker.

- He is well then, I hope.

- I do not know.

I have not heard from him in over 2 months.

- Ja, well cooks are usually far behind the lines, you know.

We never let anything happen to them...

Our forces are retreating so fast now,

I'm sure he just hasn't had time to sit and write you.

- Ja.

Ja, that must be it.

- Are you late for something, Private?

- Late? Yeah I'm late.

I had a whole life planned until you guys invaded Poland.

- Sorry for the inconvenience.

But the threat of a Polish attack

left us with little choice.

- What a load of malarky.

A bunch of yokels on horseback

must have been a real threat to your panzers.

- What about you?

Isn't there some place else you'd rather be?

- I do not think of this.

I am where it is my duty to be.

- And if you die?

- It would be an honor for me to die in such circumstances.

Death... is no great matter.

- Well, it is to me. I prefer the alternative.

- I would not expect you to understand such things,

Private Rassy.

- Sounds like you're getting personal, Lieutenant.

- Well...

let's just say that it is unfortunate

that our former Italian allies

do not have the same iron resolve as we Germans.

- Out of respect for Frau Vincken,

I'm gonna let that one slide.

But be careful.

Don't get me steamed.

- At least they had the moxie to get rid of the megalomaniac

that was destroying their country.

Too bad you don't have the resolve

to think for yourselves and do the same.

- Supper is served.

Hurry, gentlemen,

and bring something to sit on.

Danke.

Before we begin

I would ask you all to join me in a short prayer.

- Lord, we give thanks for this food

and we ask in His name

to put an end to this war

and to bring comfort and peace

to all its many victims. Amen.

- Amen.

- Pass your bowls.

- Wait a minute! Wait a minute!

- It smells delicious.

- Ja.

- Voilà! Uh?! - Ach!

- Two of Bordeaux's finest!

- Well, you are certainly full or surprises, Private Rassy.

- Jimmy. You can call me Jimmy.

- Jimmy. Or perhaps I should say

- What?

- Oh, what is that, um... sa-- sa--

- Santa Claus.

- Santa Claus!

I wonder what else you have in there?!

- Oh, the night is young, ma'am!

- No. Elisabeth. You can call me Elisabeth.

- How long you been luggin' these bottles around with you?

Since D-Day?

- Yeah, just about, Sarge.

Ah, they're Herbie's but I don't think he'll mind.

Hey! To our hostess, uh?!

... Whose common sense, decency

and stubborness have made this evening possible.

May she soon live in the peaceful world she deserves.

- To Elisabeth. - Thank you.

- Now may we eat!

- Please, sit. I will check him for you.

- That's all right, Lieutenant.

He's my man, I can take care of him.

Let him sleep. He'll be fine.

- Good. Then everyone, you may begin.

- Oh, you don't have to tell me twice, Elisabeth.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

- Merry Christmas.

- I never understood

the American fascination with baseball.

- That is when it struck me what my mother had done...

Somehow these soldiers were not so fearsome anymore.

They could have been family or friends.

And it appeared as though my mother's wish was coming true:

as if the end of the war was beginning right there,

at the dinner table of Elisabeth Vincken.

But the meal was only the beginning.

Christmas is the season of surprises.

And the evening certainly had a few surprises left in store.

- Elisabeth, this is the best meal I've ever had. Mmm!

- Ha, ha, surely you exaggerate a little. No?

- Oo-oh, not at all. Nah-ah. As they say,

everything is relative, well, relatively speaking,

this meal was delicious.

Right guys?

- Ja!

- Thanks Elisabeth, it tasted great.

- How about you, Lieutenant? Don't agree?

- What?

Ah yes, of course...

Thank you, Frau Vincken, it's, uh...

it's very good.

- You have been very quiet down there, Leutnant.

Is something bothering you?

- No...

Thinking. That is all.

- There's no law against that in the Third Reich I suppose.

- Not yet!

- And what were you thinking about? Your family?

- Actually, I was.

- Hm.

When was the last time that you were home?

- December 1942.

- Ah, for Christmas?

- For my older brother's funeral.

He was a panzer company commandant... killed in Russia.

Oh, we were all very proud of Gunter.

He brought great honor to our family.

Only 2 months before he had won the Iron Cross.

Like my father and uncle in the Great War...

And now... well, I am the only son, so...

I must continue the family tradition.

- That's quite a responsibility to bear.

Makes me kind of glad my old man was just a stonemason.

- Oh, my father was also in the Great War.

Oh, he was a handsome man,

until he marched off to the Somme

and had half of his face blown off.

What was left was a horrifying sight.

From that point on my mother would not allow

any mirrors or any shiny surfaces into our home.

But our pain was nothing compared to his.

He would drink constantly, until he drank himself unconscious.

Ah, and then he would have nightmares

and scream as if being tortured.

He finally shot himself in our parlor.

I was 12... and it was his 32nd birthday.

Do not talk to me about the honor of war.

- Well, uh...

Let's see what we have for dessert, uh?

Let's see, we got, uh, we got 8 cookies,

courtesy of Frau Muller...

and...

pineapple pudding, ah?!

Private Heinrich...

Would you like some pineapple pudding?

- Danke!

- Private citizen Vincken?

- Danke. - All right.

Elisabeth, would you like a cookie?

- Not yet, thank you.

- Anybody else?

- Are you kidding me? C'mon, c'mon.

- Ja. Me too. Believe me they are delicious.

- Mmm... Mmm.

- Santa?

Well, I think we should, uh, probably give Elisabeth a hand.

- Oh no. No, no, no, everyone relax.

- No, no. Really. - No, no, I will take care of everything.

- It's not a problem. OK.

Hey Sarge, I'll take that. - OK.

- Thanks.

- Well, if you'll excuse me.

- Going somewhere, Sergeant?

- You guys might be able to hold it in all night,

but I gotta go to the latrine.

- Ja, I too must relieve myself.

- Fritz darling,

when you are done, you and Peter can bring in the dishes. Ja?

- Nein, auf Deutsche bitte, hm?

O Tannenbaum

- Well, I'm glad they are relieving themselves.

- Too bad it's gotta be at our expense.

Let me see if there's anything left.

I'm gonna go give them a hand.

Come on, you guys.

The sooner we get this done the sooner Santa shows.

- I suspect I know your secret, Frau Vincken.

- I have no secrets, Leutnant.

- Are you sure?

This is a unique situation...

but temporary, I assure you.

Tomorrow we soldiers must go back to war.

Back to our opposing sides.

Whose side will you be on, Frau Vincken?

Or more precisely,

whose side would you like to be on?

- What are you trying to say?

- Just that...

I know now why you are here.

It bothered me why a mother

would bring her son up through our lines whilst a great battle is raging.

Usually civilians go the other way.

But not you.

Why?

Because you hope to get through our lines to the American side,

Hm?

- And why would I wish to do such a thing?

- For Fritz!

You see...

it occurred to me that through every town we went through

boys much younger than he were already bearing arms.

But not he. Why not?

How is it that he is the only boy his age

who has not received his call-up papers yet?

Or has he?

- I make no excuses.

I have already lost one son and possibly a husband.

I will not see my only remaining son give his life

for a cause I no longer believe in.

- Well I think this is the last of it...

Excuse me, Lieutenant.

So guys, what are we going to do

about dressing up that naked Christmas tree, huh?

- We don't have any decorations.

- Not yet!

- Let me see what I can find.

- Well, come on. Let's go.

Come on, let's get to the tree.

Come on, Peter.

- Danke.

Cigars and pineapple pudding.

We are kilometres from home

yet we barely have enough rations,

and America is an ocean away

and you have everything.

- And we haven't even started breathing heavy yet.

That kid in there... Heinrich...

how old is he?

- Turns fifteen next spring,

if he survives that long.

We now feed children to the meat grinder.

- What about the ones that do survive...

How are you gonna make them kids again when this is all over?

- I don't know.

And your boy in there, the wounded one...

how old is he?

- Twenty one.

An old man in this game.

He might even get to be a bit older, thanks to you.

- It is difficult, hm...

not to get close to the good one.

- Herbie?

Heh, worst soldier I've ever seen.

Can't clear his weapon, bunches up with the other guys,

can't put him on the point 'cause he's always daydreaming.

- And you never daydream, Sergeant?

Sometimes...

it is what keeps me alive.

- Well, Herbie daydreams all the time

and that can get you killed.

Been with me since day one.

Him, Meatball Prestianni,

Winkie Kahler, Johnny Simone.

A great bunch of guys. Came over together in '42,

off a troopship, onto a landing craft,

into North Africa, Italy...

now here.

Along the way I lost every one of them, except Herbie.

Worst damn soldier I've ever seen.

What is it, son?

- My mother wanted me to tell you

that we are decorating the Christmas tree.

- Wow! We better go inside then, huh.

- Hey, check it out. What do you think, Sarge?

- It's not bad.

- Heh, heh.

Ah, let's see what else we got here.

Ah yeah, a little more snow, uh?

All right.

Here you go.

- Ja.

- I see you are not a traditionalist, Frau Vincken.

- Oh no? How's that?

- The Leutnant is referring to the fact that in our country

the children are not present for the decorating of the tree.

- That's a bum deal.

They miss half the fun.

- Yes.

But as we all know our hostess

prefers to do things her own way.

- Nothing wrong with that. If there were more of you like her,

not one of us would be here right now.

- Heh... I'd be back in Brooklyn in my mother's kitchen,

sippin' vino...

getting my hand slapped for mooching her spaghetti sauce.

Yeah... What do you think?

It looks pretty good!

There's something missing though, huh?

- Something for the top of the tree.

- Yeah, that's right Lieutenant, something shiny, uh?

- Rassy, what are you doing?

- Just for tonight, Sarge?

Ah, there we go.

- Oh, well, it looks wonderful.

Merry Christmas, everyone.

- Merry Christmas.

- He was in the choir... at Cologne Cathedral.

- Hm. No kidding...

With a voice like that he could make a statue cry.

Well, I think it's time to hand out the gifts, huh?

- Gifts? Really?

- Didn't I tell you Santa was going to be here, hm?

- Peter...

chocolate? Huh?

- Danke!

- There you go, that's for you. Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas, Elisabeth!

- Now, what's this?

- French soap...

Oh...

it's beautiful. Thank you, Jimmy.

- My pleasure.

Sorry guys...

Nothing for you. I'm all--I'm all out.

- I think maybe, ah...

I've got a little something for all of us.

Huh?

- You son of a gun!

How long you been hoarding that?

- I was saving it for the end of the war

but I guess Christmas came first.

- What's wrong, Leutnant?

- Where did you get that?

- I traded for it...

2 zippos and a carton of cigarettes.

- Liar!

- I told you... I traded for it.

- Liar.

You took it from the body of a German soldier!

- Easy Lieutenant. - To take cigarettes,

a watch or money... that is one thing.

But to take a soldier's medals...

his highest honor, is the most dishonorable thing imaginable!

- Back off, Lieutenant. Back off!

- You have no decency?

- Decency!? I don't need any sermons from the likes of you!

- KRAUTS! Watch out, Sarge! I got him!

Move away from him Sarge! I got him!

- Herbie, take it easy...

Herbie... gimme the gun.

- Sarge...?

- Here... that's right, Herbie.

It's me. Now give me... the gun.

- What's happening to you, Sarge? What's happening?

- For Christ sake, Herbie, would you give me the gun?

- But Sarg--

- You OK? Herbie? Herbie? - Sarge...

- I will take that, Leutnant.

- Now, you gave me your word.

Now give me the gun.

- When...

they found my brother's body...

it was stripped naked and...

thrown to the ground...

like the carcass of an animal!

They took everything...

including his medals.

- Hans.

- Peter!

He's lucky. It's just a graze. It's not too serious.

- I will take care of this. Come. Come.

- All right, soldier, come on.

- Lieutenant...

I'm sorry I can't tell you the name of the soldier it came from.

Like I said...

I traded for it.

Hey, Fritz...

Is Peter gonna be all right?

- Ja.

- You and I still friends?

- We're friends.

- Forever? - Forever!

- Forever's a long time, you know.

- Forever!

- That's a good man!

Hey, see that bright star up there?

- Ja, Sirius... the brightest star in the sky.

- How'd you know that?

- My father...

he loves to study the stars.

- Me, it was my uncle Ennio. Heh...

We used to spend all night on his roof with his telescope.

Bet you didn't know it's not one but two?

- Ja, I did.

So close together, it looks like one from down here.

- You're a pretty smart guy, huh?

- Ja... Do you know how far it is?

- Not exactly but, uh, I know it's one of the closest.

- 8.7 light years.

- Makes you feel kinda small, huh?

- Ja...

- Well...

that's good.

A little humility is a good thing...

Well, guess it's time for a little shut eye, huh?

- Ja.

- Are you in charge here, Sergeant?

- Yes, sir. Well, yes sir and no sir...

- Well which is it?

Are you or are you not the senior man here, Sergeant?

What the...

What the hell's going on here?

Are these men your prisoners?

- Well, not exactly sir.

- Not exactly? What then?

- Uh...

Well... no, sir.

I suppose you could say that we're all guests here.

Guests of this lady.

- Guests?

- Yes, sir. Private Rassy and I got lost in the storm,

trying to evacuate one of our wounded...

He's in the next room.

We stumbled on this cabin in the woods...

Frau Vicken here was good enough to invite us in

and share food with us.

- And the Krauts?

- They showed up lost a short while later.

- I suppose Frau Vincken fed them too, right?

- Yes, sir.

- Heh...

Well, we got one here for the books, Sergeant.

In the middle of a decisive battle, you take out time

for Christmas dinner with the enemy.

Not sure how that's gonna sit with your battalion commander.

Unless of course he's around here too somewhere.

- No, sir!

- No!

Well, I hate to break up the party Sergeant,

but there's a war to be won.

Where are your weapons?

- Outside, sir.

Frau Vincken made us all leave them outside.

It was her condition for letting us in to take shelter.

- Outside...?

- Yes, sir.

- Leutnant...

- Leutnant?

- S S Captain Walter Dietrich at your service, Sergeant...

- Blank. Sergeant Ralph Blank.

- Well, Sergeant Blank,

looks like you and your friends

had quite the celebration last night.

What's wrong, Sergeant?

Cat got your tongue?

- I heard all about you guys...

brought up in the States, perfect accents...

All you need is a set of fatigues

you can be dropped behind our lines

to destroy and sabotage at will.

- That's right.

Clever isn't it?

- You guys never play on a level field, huh.

- Heh. Ah, come on Sergeant...

Don't give me that crap about rules and fair play.

This is war not a ball game.

Maybe the gods of baseball prefer a level field...

but the gods of war...?

They prefer the side that's more daring and resourceful.

I always thought we'd be on the same side in this.

Too bad President Roosevelt

doesn't think like Mr. Lindbergh.

- Yeah! Too bad for you guys.

The day's soon coming when you're gonna get yours.

- Well...

you'll never see that day, Sergeant.

- What was that, Sarge?

- It sure as hell wasn't "Merry Christmas."

- Can it, Blank!

- Momma!

- Hey...

Herbie.

- Hey.

- How you feeling, soldier?

- I... I dreamt I heard shouting, Sarge.

- Everything's gonna be fine...

We gotta get going now,

but you're at a friend's house.

Her name's Elisabeth... She's really nice.

She's gonna take care of you til our guys get here.

Now, you just stay here and you relax...

That's an order, all right?

- Whatever you say, Sarge.

- Hey Herb.

- Jimmy.

- No muss...

- No fuss.

- You got it.

I'll catch you back in Brooklyn, all right?

- All right, pal...

- OK.

- You sure you don't want to come with us?

It's gonna be over soon anyway...

How about you, Sergeant?

- Go with them! Go!

Save your own lives. It is nearly over!

- Lieutenant...

all the pineapple pudding you could eat.

- Thank you, but it is not possible.

- It's one crazy world, huh?

- Ja...

Here...

you might need this...

- Heh. Thanks.

What about the kid?

- Ja, Herr Leutnant.

- Gut.

He will do what you tell him.

Well... good luck to you.

- Good luck, Lieutenant.

- Private Rassy...

Frau.

- I guess this is it. Thank you, Elisabeth!

- You keep your head up... and your eyes on the stars.

- Ja.

- Take care, buddy!

Elisabeth, thank you. Take care of yourself.

- Jimmy.

- All right you... Let's move out.

- Come on, Peter...

Maybe you could teach me some German, uh?

- It was a Christmas miracle I shall never forget.

How, because of one woman...

a group of men came together as bitter enemies,

and parted again as friends.

Later that day, an American patrol came by

and the war for us was finally over.

Closed Vision Globale