From firstname.lastname@example.org Sun Jan 04 07:36:03 1998
Subject: A belated XistMas Tale (1 of 2)
From: email@example.com (Christopher Lee)
Date: Sun, 04 Jan 1998 15:36:03 GMT
Santa Claus Vs the Nazis!!!
Part 1 of 2
by Rev. Dr. Christopher Lee
Snow fell in long lazy looping paths. Already the city was
blanketed in the whiteness. Anne felt peace, a brief respite from the
nightmare her family was living. She felt insulated, like the city.
Anne flipped idly through the pages of her diary. She knew all too
well how long her family had been concealed in this attic, hidden by
sympathizers. In the distance, she could hear a tank rumble through
the narrow streets. Most of her family slept, but Anne couldn't. The
emptiness of the city, the snow... she felt as though the city had
frozen in time, a time of calmness and peace.
Far above, an object cruised through the sky at a speed which
would have been thought impossible at that time.
"Approaching the next major population center, Santa." said
Floyd, one of three Elves chosen for this year's run.
Santa put down his paperback. "Great. What's the stop, boys?"
"Amsterdam, Netherlands" replied Smitty.
"Amsterdam! Great! Great town." enthused Santa. "Alright
boys we're going to try a water landing here, probably in the main
canal. Floyd, get up front and brief the reindeer. Smitty,
double-check the hydro refittings. Sanchez, hand me that spyglass, and
find me the Amsterdam data."
The Elves burst into action. Floyd cautiously walked down a
narrow gangplank which ran between the two rows of reindeer, to which
he whispered instructions. Smitty strapped on a harness and hopped
over the side of the sleigh, grasping various handholds as he worked
his way to the underside of the vessel. Sanchez handed the spyglass
to Santa and took the reins as Santa peered ahead. Santa frowned.
"Hm. There's a lot of action in the sky tonight. I count one
blimp and two- no... three biplanes. Sanchez, what's our ETA?"
"About four minutes, Santa." answered Sanchez.
"Boys, finish up, and haul yourselves back in here. I've got
an odd feeling about this." Santa leaned back into the oversized seat
as the Elves moved back into the sleigh. As the sleigh approached the
city, Santa caught sight of the symbol emblazoned on the blimp.
"Nazis. What a way to spend Christmas. Alright, we're going
to continue with procedure, but with a couple of minor alterations.
We're going in low, under their radar. We'll continue with the water
landing, but you'll stay with the sleigh. I'll go this one alone- we
get in and we get out. Is that understood?"
The Elves nodded. They had never seen Santa so grim. Several
of his aspects were somewhat serious, but this was worrisome.
However, they had unswerving confidence in Santa. Whatever the
circumstances were, he would lead them through it.
The reindeer guided the sleigh in low, coasting over rooftops,
until Santa found an ideal place to land. The reindeer and the sleigh
glided gracefully downwards until they were floating on the water of
the canal. Santa stepped over the side of the sleigh and walked on
the water to the street.
"Sit tight boys, I won't be long." He dashed off down a side
street. Snow continued to fall, covering the streets and rooftops.
Brief moments later, Santa reappeared, laden with items.
"Merry Christmas, fellas!" Santa handed each of the Elves a
9 mm pistol. "Only use in an emergency, but don't hesitate to use
them if you need to."
Santa handed Sanchez a walkie-talkie. "Contact me if you need
me, but keep it quiet otherwise, ok? Well boys, let me in get into
costume, and then we'll get moving."
The Elves were always fascinated by Santa's various aspects.
Before their eyes he grew taller and stood more erect. He appeared to
age, and his beard grew several inches. He seemed to lose quite a few
pounds. His red coat grew into a cloak, with ornate lettering along
the fringe. He leaned on a staff. The only things that were unchanged
were his eyes, which shone with the wisdom of ages. Santa vanished
before the Elves' eyes. He had set off on his Christmas mission.
Anne was startled to hear a noise from below. The Van
Klempers, the family that was hiding them, never stayed awake late,
fearful of attracting attention. Anne froze, her fears resurfacing.
From outside, Anne heard the distinct bark of a dog. Was it a patrol?
Was it approaching?
Anne shrunk into a corner. Out of the corner of her eye, she
noticed movement. A tall thin figure glided out of the shadows and
bumped into a table, knocking it over. Anne's father began to stir.
The figure moved towards a wall, bumping and groping for its way.
Anne was terrified. She could recognize that it was not a family
member, and she knew that the hidden apartment was difficult to
access, especially in the dark.
The lights blazed on, blinding Anne. She could hear her
family stir, and her father's complaints, and then his gasp of horror.
Anne's vision cleared and she saw the tall lean bearded man. He was
dressed in red and carried a bag slung carelessly over one shoulder.
Outside, the barking was closer.
"Hmmph. No tree. Oh well." declared the old man as he began
to place small wooden toys in one corner. "I suppose these people
have enough problems as it is."
By now, Anne's father was fully awake. He stood up quickly,
brandishing a small glass. "My god! Who are you? How did you get
"Why, I'm Kris Kringle! Now settle down or you'll wake the
Outside, the barking resumed, closer. Anne realized that the
secret rooms stood out, with the lights on at night. "Father! The
"My god! You've killed us old man, do you realize that? We're
dead!" Anne's father rushed to the lights and switched them off.
Santa switched them on just as quickly. Anne's father choked back a
scream, and switched them off again, and swung at Santa with the
Santa easily blocked the swing, and calmly turned the lights
back on. He gave Anne's father a gentle push that sent him stumbling
back several feet. Outside, Anne heard the dog just below the window.
Someone shouted, in German. Now someone was beating on the front
door. Tears began to roll down Anne's face. She wasn't sure what
would happen, but she knew it would be terrible.
The old man... Kris Kringle... resumed placing toys in the
corner. "Let's see... Anne's been good... Frank's been good..."
Someone was shouting downstairs. Anne strained to hear the
voices of the Van Klempers, in feeble protest. A loud crash startled
Anne... they had found the bookcase, knocked it over. More shouts,
in German, at the Van Klempers. Anne looked at her father. He was
rapidly, uselessly searching for an escape route for his family, which
was now huddled in the far corner. He looked like an animal caught in
a cage... which is exactly how he would now be treated. The patrol
was coming up the stairs now, their heavy bootsteps resounding through
the room. Anne caught a glimpse of the old man glide smoothly into
the shadows of a corner.
The German patrol stepped into the room. There were three of
them, and a German Shepherd, which was barking frantically. The first
of the men pulled out his .9mm automatic and stepped to Anne's father.
"Stand up!" Anne's father complied. "How many are hiding
here?" The Nazi demanded.
Anne's father was pale, stricken. He tried to answer, but
nothing but a stutter came out. A second Nazi grabbed Anne.
"Tell us or we'll turn the dog on the girl!" He threatened.
"Rolf. I never thought you would turn out like this." said a
sad voice from the corner. "How'd you get mixed up with these
The third Nazi, Rolf, spun to face the corner. He removed his
pistol and pointed in that direction. "Show yourself!"
Kris Kringle stepped lightly from the corner. The dog was
straining at its leash to get at the man. He glanced calmly around
the room, taking stock of the situation, sizing up his enemies.
"You are enemies of good will and the spirit of Christmas."
Santa spoke, in fluent German. "I'm placing you under arrest for
crimes against my domain."
The Nazis burst out laughing. "Get in the corner with the
others, you senile fool." commanded Rolf.
The dog began barking wildly. Santa gave it a glance and it
fell silent and sat on the floor. Santa stepped up to Rolf, whose
weapon was pointed directly at Santa's face.
"How did this happen Rolf? Why did you turn out this way?
Those two, Uwe and Conrad, they were always bad boys... but you? You
were a good boy Rolf." Santa's voice was thick and sugary, lulling.
"Do you remember what you wanted for Christmas when you were nine?
The year your grandfather died? You didn't want toys, or candy... you
just wanted your mother to be happy again... you wanted no more
death... no more death."
Rolf was amazed, and fearful. The old man's words rang
through his ears. How could he know any of that, unless...
"It's not too late for you, Rolf... you can redeem yourself...
you can still celebrate Christmas Rolf..." Santa's voice had tightened
to an intense whisper. "Help us Rolf!"
Rolf was thoroughly mesmerized. His commanding officer held
his pistol on Anne. "Shoot him Rolf!"
Rolf turned and fired on his commander, hitting him in the
shoulder, near the neck. Santa sprung forward as the other Nazi
fired. Santa punched him in the throat and then kneed him in the face
as the Nazi fell. Santa hurried to Rolf, who was shot in the leg, and
examined the wound. Santa rummaged through Rolf's pack, found a first
aid kit, and began to treat the gunshot. He then pulled a thin vial
from inside his belt and poured the liquid contents onto the bandages.
"That will help it heal Rolf. Merry Christmas." Santa's
gentle eyes shone. "It's alright everyone. Show's over. You can get
Anne and her family cautiously moved from the corners. They
were pale and fearful. Anne's father trembled with rage. "Why have
you done this?!? What are we supposed to do now? My God! We don't
even celebrate Christmas!"
A frown crossed Santa's face. "You don't celebrate Christmas.
You don't celebrate Christmas. Why don't you celebrate Christmas?"
"We're Jewish! That's why we were hiding, fool."
Santa took a deep breath. He slowly counted to ten, in Greek,
and then as an afterthought, in Hebrew. "Listen, and listen good-
this is Christmas and I'm Kris Kringle, Santa Claus, Father Christmas,
Big Red, Saint Nicklaus, Sanity Clause... I've got a thousand names
and a thousand forms. I've existed for a long time- longer than most
religions. I stand outside religion-I do not require it to operate.
This is my holiday, Christmas, and it is meant for everyone-
Christians, Jewish, Hindu, pagans, even atheists like Anne."
Anne's father shot a glance at Anne, but before he could
protest, Santa had continued.
"Truth be known, the only religions that could make any claim
on this day are the pagans. Happy Yule Day! Everyone else moved in
to steal the thunder from the pagan festivals of the time. Jesus
wasn't even born until February.
They always mention the gold, myrrh and frankincense, but they
fail to mention the fourth wise man, with the toys, and apples, and
candies, and the baby clothes. Practical things for the child. But I
Let me put this another way... you have to believe in me,
because right now, I'm the only one who can help you... well me and
As Anne's father gaped at this, they heard a noise behind
them- the squelch of a walkie talkie. Rolf's commander was dying,
slumped against a corner, but he had managed to get to his walkie
talkie and was speaking into it. Santa took three quick steps and then
leapt at him, crashing into him with a sumo manoeuver. Three quick
punches and the Nazi was done.
"So much for that master race. He didn't have the holiday
spirit." Santa picked up the walkie-talkie and spoke into it, in
"That'll confuse them. I wished them all a Merry Christmas.
Now listen- Anne's father, this is for you." Santa handed Anne's
father a manila envelope. "Inside, you'll find passports, travel
visas, enough money to get the family a fair distance. Don't thank
me. Rolf will help you. I expect another patrol is heading in this
direction, so we don't have much time.
Rolf and Anne's father- start to clean up, the rest of you-
begin packing, take only what is essential, leave the rest behind.
Don't worry, you might get something nice next Christmas! Get moving!
Now I'm going to go distract them. Merry Christmas everybody."
Anne watched Santa walk down the stairs and exchange a few
words with the Van Klempers, who had been too afraid to come upstairs.
He handed them a package, wished them happy holidays, and left.
Impulsively, Anne ran downstairs after him. She could hear her
father's shout in the background, but didn't care. She had to see
(To be concluded...)
From firstname.lastname@example.org Sun Jan 04 07:42:49 1998
Subject: A XistMas Tale, The Conclusion
From: email@example.com (Christopher Lee)
Date: Sun, 04 Jan 1998 15:42:49 GMT
Santa Claus Vs the Nazis (Part 2 of 2)
by Rev. Christopher Lee
Santa rounded a corner only to find himself facing a Panzer tank
and fifteen to twenty infantry following it. Santa was cut off from
his sleigh, but it all seemed worthwhile. After all, he hadn't
attracted the attention of that patrol for nothing. He began to weigh
his options when the walkie-talkie squawked at him.
"Santa- this is Sanchez- we've encountered the enemy, but I think
we can hold them off- do you have any instructions?"
"Hold your position for five more minute, if you can, and then
get the sleigh in the air." Santa scanned the area's buildings and
described his location to Sanchez. "I'll be done here soon, and I'll
Santa heard the shouts from the Nazi patrol. They had spotted
him. He glanced back around the corner. Half of the infantry was
closing in on his position, and the tank's cannon was taking aim.
Santa took off across the street. He had to get a little distance for
what he had planned. He heard the cannon fire.
Santa began to leap as the shell exploded where he had been
standing. Santa was thrown forty feet and slammed into a wall. He
crawled around the corner.
Santa began to take short rapid breaths. He had not assumed this
particular form since the day of Attila. In brief moments, Santa had
changed into a far older Aspect. He stood taller, and his beard was
speckled grey, and unkempt. His cane had became a battle axe, and his
cloak was now armor, tinged red, held together by red-dyed leather.
He was still an old man, but he was muscled and experienced. He was a
The first five Nazis turned the corner. Santa cut down two of
them before they could realize their situation. He charged two more,
hoisting them into the air and slamming them into the alley's wall.
They fell to the ground, gasping for breath. Santa turned toward the
remaining soldier as he fired, wounding Santa just below his shoulder.
Santa glanced at the blood issuing from the wound, and then bit
himself in the tongue. The taste of hot blood filled Santa's mouth.
Slowly the berserker rage set in. Santa's eyes glazed over as he
turned his attentions back to the attacker who was carefully aiming
for a head wound. Santa hurled his ax with such force that it cleaved
the soldier in two.
Santa retrieved his weapon, and glanced around the corner.
Already the second wave was moving in, and the tank was manoeuvring to
block Santa in the alley. Santa returned to the two living soldiers.
He clubbed them unconscious and claimed their weapons. He threw the
first grenade as the first troops rounded the corner.
Santa charged into the street, moving through four of the
enemy. He threw the second grenade as the first exploded. Several
Nazis moved in on Santa while the rest scattered. Santa swung his axe
wide, clearing a path to the tank, which was moving clumsily towards
Just before the tank rolled over Santa, he sank his axe into it,
and pulled himself up. He yanked the axe from the tank's shell and
prepared to climb atop it. He heard a bullet whistle past his ear,
and he turned to face the Nazis who were attempting to gather ranks.
Santa pulled out his remaining grenade, pulled the pin with his teeth
and threw it into their midst. He climbed to the hatch of the tank
and began to attack it with a frenzy with his axe.
Santa cut several gashes into the tank and then began to tear the
hole wide with his bare hands. Santa tore the tank open as though it
were made of gift wrapping. From inside a fearful gunner fired a
pistol, missing by several inches. Santa dropped into the tank, and
effortlessly knocked out the two occupants.
Anne watched from a distance. Santa had just disappeared intotank.
Most of the Nazis had ran, but six or seven stood
there, confused. The tank lurched forward, awkwardly. The turret rotated
until it was aimed at the remaining Nazis, who ran. Anne heard the
rumble of a second tank down the street. Santa's tank began rolling
rapidly towards the canal that ran in front of the Van Klempers home.
The turret swivelled around to face the tank that had appeared at the
end of the street.
Santa's cannon fired and its shell exploded in front of the enemy
tank. Anne saw Santa pull himself out of the tank as it neared the icy
canal. Santa grabbed onto an overhead fire escape and pulled himself
up. With incredible speed, Santa ran up the metal steps. He began to
dash down the street, atop the buildings. Anne's eye could barely
keep up with him. He jumped from one building to the next with
uncanny ease and agility. Anne's eyes scarcely registered the sleigh
that swooped down or Santa's seven foot leap to grasp the hydroski
refittings. By that moment Santa had become a blur of light, and then
he was gone. Anne hurried back to her home. Soon she would have a
new, safe home. Santa cautiously pulled himself into the
sleigh. Santa shook violently... and slowly he transformed into a
more traditional Aspect. He checked the Elves' conditions. Floyd had
the reins, Sanchez was scanning the horizon with the spyglass, and
Smitty held a rifle alertly. They had the look of Elves who had just
been in a hell of a fight. Floyd started to hand the reins to Santa.
"That's alright, you keep them. I don't think I've nearly done
my part here. Are those biplanes still in the area?"
"Yes sir" piped Sanchez. "In fact, two are closing on us."
"Christ Santa! Haven't we had enough?" shrieked Floyd, whose
nerves were shot.
Santa looked at Floyd angrily, but just as quickly changed his
mood. "Actually no. I just went through my first berserker rage
since the Crusades, and my adrenaline is pumping!"
Santa eased a flask out of his pocket and took a swig, and then
handed the flask to Floyd. "Help yourself. Now listen: Floyd- you
man the rifle, shoot to kill. Smitty- take the reins. Sanchez- you've
got a good idea how I work in situations- direct these two as best you
can. As soon as I make my move, I'm going to need a decoy. Lead
those bastards on a wild goose chase!"
The sleigh neared the third biplane. Santa perched himself on
the edge of the sleigh, which passed no more than ten feet over the
biplane. and dropped down onto the biplane and desperately grasped
the wing's edge. He pulled himself up and plotted his move into thecockpit. Overhead the sleigh sharply turned right. Santa looked
behind to see the two pursuers follow. Santa felt this biplane begin
to turn also.
Good, he thought, I'll be behind them. Santa started to peer
over the wing's edge when a bullet tore through the wing on his left.
Santa began to roll to the right as several bullets pierced the wing
from below, in the cockpit. Santa reached the wing's edge and let
himself fall, catching himself at the last moment.
Santa, hanging from the wing, looked towards the cockpit. The
pilot was concentrating on the pursuit of the sleigh, but his gunner
was foolishly standing, half- turned, in his seat. The machine gun in
his hands smoked. He saw Santa just as Santa dropped to the lower
wing. Santa charged as the gunner swung the machine gun around.
Santa barrelled into the gunner, knocking him into snowy space. Santa
listened with pleasure as the machine gun fired and chattered
during the Nazi's plunge.
"You've been naughty!" snapped Santa.
Santa slammed the pilot into the control panel and then threw
his unconscious form into the rear seat. Santa settled into the pilot
seat and scanned the sky for the other two biplanes. It appeared that
Smitty was leading them on a merry chase, but it wouldn't last
forever, as Smitty had little experience as a combat pilot. Santa
closed rapidly with the rear biplane and opened fire. Bullets
shredded the small plane which began to spin out of control.
Santa tore the machine gun from its clamps and moved in on the
final biplane. Santa flew alongside the biplane and pulled himself
out of the cockpit. He ran along the wing and jumped to the other
wing as his biplane began to dip and wobble out of control. Santa and
the occupants of the biplane stared at the biplane which Santa had
just abandoned. Suddenly it spun, and it's top wing collided with the
wing of this plane, knocking everyone asunder.
Santa grimaced and began to walk carefully towards the cockpit of
the shaking plane. The snowy wind blew in his face. He felt more
alive, more dangerous than he had in years. Behind him, the plane
began to plummet. Ahead of him, the pilot was adjusting his
parachute, preparing to leap from the plane. The gunner was
struggling with his, but couldn't get it on properly. He stared at
the approaching heavy set, machine gun toting vengeful Santa. As the
pilot jumped, the gunner grabbed hold of him and together they fell.
Santa fell into the pilot's seat and allowed himself a moment to
relax. He had cleared the menace from the Amsterdam sky, for the
moment. Santa was preparing to rendezvous with the sleigh when he
noticed the zeppelin, the zeppelin with the huge swastika on its side.
Santa thought back to his humble beginnings. Just as religious
elements had changed his Christmas festivals and lessened the pagan
elements, so had these Nazis perverted this ancient pagan sun symbol.
Santa should not allow it to continue. Santa reached for his
"Sleigh? Santa here. I'm going to take out that blimp. Attempt
pick-up about 50 feet underneath it." Santa threw the walkie-talkie
overboard before the Elves could protest. He then set his sights on
the blimp and accelerated to the biplane's limit.
The Elves watched in horror as Santa's plane hurtled towards the
zeppelin. Sanchez urged the reindeer to greater speeds, as they moved
to rescue Santa from his doomed mission. They closed the gap between
themselves and Santa's target quickly, but not quickly enough. Santa
flew his plane directly into the blimp, the propellor blades chopping
and slicing through the material. The blimp began to collapse, and
then exploded as the helium ignited. The fireball was stupendous, and
released a heat wave that scalded the Elves. The fiery carcass of the
blimp fell slowly, lighting up the night sky.
The Elves were stunned into silence. It was inconceivable that
Santa could be dead. They searched the sky anxiously for some sign.
Smitty spotted Santa first. Santa's cloak had billowed out, and Santa
was using it to gently glide towards the sleigh.
The Elves directed the sleigh towards Santa and he fell into
place in the pilot's seat. He took the reins and turned the sleigh
out towards the countryside.
"Exciting, wasn't it?" Santa exclaimed. "We've got to make up
some time, but it was all worth it, I think. I do want to add a stop
on the list in Berlin though."
He woke with a start. He could have sworn that he had heard a
noise... that someone had been in the room. Cautiously, he turned over
in bed, and was startled to find a knife buried in the pillow next to
him. Heart pounding, he sat upright in the bed and glanced quickly
around the room. It appeared empty. He slowly reached to where a
pistol was concealed, only to find the hiding place empty.
Now he was quite fearful. He had been assured that this place
was secure, by both his security forces and by the Thules. He
suddenly noticed how cold the room was. Was something present? He
removed the knife from the pillow and carefully slid from the bed
towards the corner, which would allow him a better vantage point. The
floor was frigid and chilled him to the bone. From the corner, he
noticed a window which stood partially open. He was partially
relieved. At least the intruder was human. He searched the foot of
the bed for his slippers and began to pull them on. His foot suddenly
struck something cold, gritty, hard. He threw it across the room and
angrily switched on a light.
Adolf Hitler was quite surprised to find each slipper packed with