It's set in the style of 'Twas the Night Before Christmas-- even if some of the guys weren't around in Bastogne, I tried to include them anyway. Hopefully almost everyone has a cameo. Dedicated, as always, to Leigh, as well as the girls at camp_toccoa. I need serious help.
(Also, Amber-- I just read your entry on communal living. I can only offer my sympathies and hope this cheers you up a little. ^_^)
Here we go...
TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS
(or 'Clement Clark Moore is Spinning in His Grave')
by Meredith Bronwen Mallory
'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through Bastogne,
No a soldier was stirring, there was no drop zone.
The Krauts were all singing in drunken Yuletide,
Luz was passing out smokes-- he's a really great guy.
Easy's boys were all snuggled up in their tench,
Even if it'd been shat* it, they ignored the stench.
Lipton was watching the line with great care,
In hopes that no Kraut would enter their lair.
Babe and Doc Roe were snuggled up close for sleep,
With Bull for a pillow, Guarnere made not a peep.
Malarkey and Muck, our dear Irish boys,
Were dreaming of warm beaches, as was Joe Toye.
Perconte was snoring right next to Talbert,
While good ol' Penkala was still on alert.
Buck stared up, off up into the trees,
And wondered why no fic writer his depression did ease.
Harry Welsh was dozing, his teeth still a mess,
Speirs dreamed of... well, no one really can guess.*
Liebgott was dreaming his own pleasant dreams,
Of Hanukkah lights, and Webster coming clean.
Hoob's lust for a war memento played through his mind,
While Popeye and Shifty were making some time.
All through the forest, the snow lay quite still,
At least for tonight, there would be no kill.
Then through the still night there arose such a clatter,
That Lipton stood up, to see what was the matter.
"Settle down, Lip," said Luz, looking up from his hole,
"If you really think about it-- you won't need to be told."
Then upon Lipton's face dawned the light of understanding,
For it was rumor in Easy that Nix was demanding.*
Off in the officer's trench, as it were,
Winters and Nixon, for the cold, had found a cure.
Yes, serene and mild mannered as our Winters is,
He just couldn't resist his friend Nixon's kiss.
With longing looks and raunchy come on lines,
Nix had encouraged Dick to respond in kind.
Those still waking in Easy just rolled their eyes,
They were used to the antics of their upper-ranking guys.
And hey, after all, it was Christmas Eve--
They all knew what it was to have an itch be relieved.
Slowly the sounds faded into the darkness thick,
Harry Welsh commented, "Nixon's stolen my Dick."
And yes, Lewis Nixon did smirk, his eyes had a shine,
He said, "Merry Christmas to all, but Dick Winters is mine!"
*I am aware that shat is not a real word. Humor me-- it's like 'shit-ed', only it sounds better.
*Actually, he was dreaming of Lipton. God, I need help.
*The man only drinks the best liquor. He's all about quality. ^^
I swear to God, someone's going to get me a straight-jacket for Christmas, at this rate.