"Christmas Day..." Cynthia Patterson thought. Another lonely Christmas for me, she thought with a sigh as she lay down on the grass and looked up to the clouds. Above her, a group of Dep Rogs were flying to the north, heading for the Zeon's main Philippines base at Subic Bay. If there was anything left there, that is. It had been under constant air attack as far back as October, hence the tranfer of the submarine squadron to the less conspicous base here in Palawan. She sighed, she wondered what John and Dad were doing. It was getting really annoying to be stuck here on the ground...
-----------------------------

December 25, UC 0079 -
Side 2, EFSF Battleship Amerigo

"Alright, what do we know so far?" Brigadier General Dolvich inquired as his staff gathered around him. High command had given them the go order to destroy or capture the base, and he wanted a workable assault plan drawn up as quickly as possible. If it was feasible.

"It's a small base, Sir," John Paul Recto, who had spent the last eight hours scouting the base out, explained, "Far smaller than Malta, and has a lot less fixed defenses. They seem to be relying more on mobile suits and ships to defend the base, Sir."

"Yes, and they're new models, Sir," Yang added, "Improved Zakus and the large black ones. Very bad news."

"As well as a Tibe, three Musais, and that bad-*** mini-Gwajin. And Sir, don't forget we've also spotted at least two of the new beam-capable prototype MS, Sir," Recto added, "And they look quite a bit different from the ones we've encountered."

"Explain," the General ordered sternly. He wanted to know as much as he could.

"The Zaks and the black mono-eyes seem to have better thrusters and weapons. And for once they're sensibly sharing some weaponry like the new machine gun they carry," John explained as he produced several photographs, "But the problem are the beam-carriers. One seems to carry a cannon on its backpack like our GM Cannon, probably for heavy duty anti-MS use. The second... well, fair guess is it's piloted by the High Mobility Zaku pilot that's giving us so much trouble..."

"How are you sure?" Miles demanded. That pilot was good, he knew. And if he got one of the beam capable ones...

"The unit's painted in the same color scheme, Sir," John explained, "And it's probably the same custom model as the Grey Phantom encountered a few days ago. VERY bad news..." he concluded as he produced a report from the Libo's base commander.

"Ouch," Colonel Patterson muttered quietly as he read the report. Even the new GM Commands were no match against it...

"Thank you, Lieutenant," General Dolvich finished with a nod, "Now, what about our own force, Major Grunther?"

"We have seven Salamis, two Magellans, twenty mobile suits, sixteen Balls and twelve Publics," Karl reported quickly, "We just barely outnumber them, Sir."

"So, do you think we can do it?" the General asked to everybody in the room. He personally believed it was feasible, but he wanted other's opinions first.

"We might want to wait, Sir. They're hurting worse than we are sir, and it's probable that we can get more reinforcements than they can," the Actium's CO answered. The Saratoga and the Brandywine's COs both nodded in agreement.

"But what if they launch an attack against Side 6 again?" Miles countered. Unlike most of his comrades, he was from Side 6. And the Libo's base commander had kindly forwarded reports on the 'contraband' they had captured.

"The Granada fleet is also still out there," Yang reminded, "Intelligence says they're still in port, and they can be here in three days."

"And Sirs, excuse me..." John started.

"Yes Lieutenant?" General Dolvich asked sternly. Got any new tricks up your sleeve?

"I forgot to add this, but Sir, most of their pilots seem... green," John added, "They look REAL sloppy except for the ace."

"There are reports on Zeon manpower shortages and they're sending high school boys to fight..." the Actium's CO conceded. He still didn't like this, but what if that fleet did come? "Alright, I agree, let's give the attack a try."

"Any further objections?" the General inquired. There were none, "Alright, let's draw up an assault plan. We attack tomorrow."
-----------------------------

"What a cargo for Christmas, eh XO?" Colonel Jefferson noted grimly as he watched the dock crews load their main 'cargo.' Tactical nuclear weapons destined for Side 6.

"You still have problems with the mission, Sir?" the XO replied coldly. He was a new one, assigned by Killing himself.

"No," he replied, the lie rolling off his lips. I'm going to make sure they're never used... he promised himself. This was not a war to kill women and children like that idiot Giren had made it into. This was about freeing their oppressed neighbors from the grasp of those politicians on Earth. He hadn't approved nor participated in the bloody mess that was the One Week War and the Ruum, having only recieved his command just after the Antarctic Treaty. That was fortunate, he knew some friends who blew their brains out after realizing what they had done. He wouldn't make that same mistake.

The XO simply nodded. Don't cross Killing's orders, Jefferson, he thought, or your brains may soon be splattered all over the floor.
-----------------------------

"Mmmm..." John remarked as he entered the wardroom, "Wow, looks like we've got some good chow," he observed as he saw the food being served. It was Christmas, after all, and despite all the technological advancements in the past hundred years they still hadn't managed to get rid of that tradition. That was just perfect for him, as two straight hours helping with the attack plan had left him starving...

"Yeah, here's yours," Juan said as he handed John a plate, "Not exactly a feast, but at least it's not the damn synthetic MRE stuff that they usually serve us."

"All we need now is a tree and decorations..." John added with a smile. Christmas was an especially important holiday in his homeland, after all it had been a predominantly Christian country...

"Well," Major Karl suddenly interjected as he joined his men, "I'm not exactly Santa Claus, but I do have a gift for the two of you, Recto and Ignacio..."

"Us, Sir?" the two responded together. Karl Grunther didn't seem to be the type...

"You've just made Sergeant, Ignacio," he expained, "They're thinking of a new policy to allow only officers to pilot, so you're being promoted to make sure we don't lose you. And Recto, you also just made 1st Lieutenant at the recommendation of General Dolvich. Congratulations men," he finished with a grin.

"Well... I'm not so sure about that sir..." John objected. Wasn't I just a damn Sergeant a month ago? Sheesh, and Sylvie's been only promoted once since the start of the war...

"You deserve it, John," Sylvie approved as she joined the party, "Your gut feelings have saved us a couple of times," she admitted.

John frowned at that remark. Yeah, he thought, but I just helped the brass plan a BIG attack tomorrow. One that could prove to be fatal to some of them. After the way she had reacted after his 'suggestion' had put Max in danger...

"Oh, and Lieutenant Gressier, you're also up for a decoration," the Major told her with a smile.

Sylvie looked stunned, "Sir, what..."

"For taking down that prototype. They're still thinking of the right commendation for you," Karl explained.

It was Sylvie's turn to frown. She was getting commended for killing somebody. She didn't believe in that. She believed in commending those who saved lives, not those who took them.

"Somehow, I believe that this unit simply hates recognition," Karl observed almost with a laugh, "Maybe my disease is contagious after all... Anyway, enough long faces! Let's just have a nice informal party for today..." Because there certainly won't be time for it tomorrow, he didn't add.
-----------------------------

"I swear, if I ever find out who trained this guys..." Ming muttered angrily as he pulled his Gelgoog Jaeger (right) into the dock after yet ANOTHER disastrous exercise. This time he had finally lost his temper and single handedly wiped out three fourths of the whole MS force before the commander stopped him. "Damn it!" he thought, "Can't those kids even maneuver a little to save their own lives?!"

"Maybe we have to send these guys into a serious fight to get them going," Mike suggested, "Come on, don't let it ruin your day. It's Christmas, after all..."

"Yeah, but this is not World War One," Ming countered, "We don't stop the fighting for a friendly game of football with the other side anymore.**"

"Yeah, but at least the one's back..." Mike started before stopping, "Oh, sorry Ming."

"Don't worry. I understand, you still have a family back home," he replied with a touch of envy.

"Yeah, and boy do I want to be with them," he replied, "But you know, I wonder. Why did we stop having a friendly game of football with the other side anyway?" he contemplated, "What's the reason we can't now?"

"They're our enemy, that's reason enough," Ming replied simply.

"But back then, they were enemies too, weren't they?" Mike pondered. It was something he had never considered before. Something that had been buried under all the rhetoric and supposed patriotism, but still haunting his conscience. What is so different between "them" and "us" anyway?
-----------------------------

As the Major had ordered, everybody was in their "informal" mood today. No pulling rank, no stupid military hierarchy, though higher ups were still addressed as "Sir" as a point of respect. And it had seemed like ages since the crew had any rest like this.

"You know, I'm beginning to wish that the brass, just once, would let us have some alchoholic beverages onboard," Juan commented as he swallowed that last of his meal and wished for more, "Some nice beer would help wash down the food..."

"The brass has good reasons to keep us from drinking," Karl explained, "But some vodka would be nice..."

"Vodka, Sir?!" Fred asked, surprised, "Aren't you German, Sir?"

"Yeah, but my first command was all-Russian, and I've grown to like the taste," Karl explained further.

"Hey, John," Juan asked, "What about you?"

"Mango juice is my favorite," John answered, "I don't drink alchoholic stuff. Makes me see three or four more contacts on the radar screen..."

"Mango juice?" Sylvie asked, "Never tried it before. In fact I've never seen a mango. My colony doesn't seem to grow any."

"I'll try to send you some when I get back home," he offered, "Or you could come and visit. Christmas is a great time to visit my home."

"Oh so I can finally meet your..." Sylvie started before she noticed the panicked looks on Fred and John's faces. Oh ****! Was that supposed to be a secret? she thought. Think of something, Sylvie... "Family."

"I don't really have one anymore," John told her sadly, but honestly, "My dad died when I was really young, and my mom died just two years ago."

"John... I'm..." Sylvie started.

"Don't worry, I've gotten over it a long time ago," he replied somberly, "What about YOUR family Sylvie?" he asked with a grin, turning the tables around.

"You already know about them remeber? YOU handed me their letters..." she replied with a contemptous look on her face.

"Yeah, but I know nothing about them..." John countered, "And they haven't replied to your second letter so..."

"John... that's PRIVATE!" Sylvie warned angrily. Besides, her return letter would take some time to send, after all, so the reply would take longer. There was suddenly an outburst of chuckles around the table, "What's so funny?!" she demanded.

"I guess the old Sylvie is back," Fred explained with a grin, "You know you haven't been acting like yourself for the past two weeks."

"Have I?" Sylvie asked in a rather meek tone. Her reply was a series of nods.

"The cold, heartless type doesn't suit you," a new voice quietly added. THAT made everybody's head turn. It was Max, who was just finishing his plate alone in the adjacent table. Forever the loner, he never really joined in these gatherings, even at an occassion like this.

"But that description just suits you, doesn't it?" Sylvie replied rather coldly.

"Yes," Max replied quietly, before leaving. The whole room suddenly seemed quiet for a moment.

Oh damn it... Sylvie thought to herself. Why the hell did I just say that? Even if he's the coldest, most insensitive, and utterly ruthless and cruel guy I've come to know I shouldn't have ruined everybody elses'...

"Hi guys!" the chief mechanic suddenly declared as he entered the room, carrying a large box of records with him, "Found me some old songs I had. I was thinking to play it for the wardroom for you guys since it's Christmas, after all..."

"Yeah, thanks Chief!" John suddenly answered for all of them with a smile. Juan sighed, then nodded, and the rest of the men in the wardroom agreed. Unhappiness was a common part of life in a war, so why waste a perfectly good opportunity to relieve it?

Sylvie breathe a sigh of relief before looking at John. He was now happily helping the chief assemble the old record player. She smiled, it was one of his traits. He tried to help when he can, especially to help people get over their gloom, although it did have its limits when his life was in danger. Maybe because he wanted to see his girl again, she thought. Lucky her.

John grinned as he placed the first record into the player, and soon Irving's White Christmas was being sung by everybody in the room.
-----------------------------

"And may your Christmas be.... white..." the whole group finished singing as the record ended. The singing was horribly out of tune, but to Hormuz Base's MS force, it was a touch of home. But even so they still couldn't help but laugh at themselves for their dismal vocal abilities.

"Hey Ming, don't you know any songs?" Mike asked as he joined his wingman, still chuckling.

"Sorry, I don't know much about Christmas songs. My family is a traditional Chinese one you see..." he explained, but he was also smiling. Incompetent or not, the base's MS pilots were still a cheery bunch whose silliness occassionally made him laugh. They were really just kids, the same type who believed the old phrase "the troops will be home for Christmas." But they were certainly missing this one.

"Oh well..." Mike replied. "But singing does help get rid of the loneliness sometimes."

The record player then began playing a new tune. It was an old German war song that had been partly adopted by the Zeon military early in the war. 'Lili Marlene'***.

"Oh ****, I hate that song..." Mike muttered. In reality, he didn't hate it before. He just hated it now because Mei Li wasn't going to be waiting for him anymore. Ever...

"Don't tell me you're a frustrated lover, Mike." Ming joked.

Mike forced a grin. He really didn't want Ming to know about his interest in Mei Li. Not at a time like this. And, he admitted to himself, not even a time before this, lest his protective love for his sister cost them their friendship.

"Oh well, at least I know this one," Ming declared with a grin. He stood up to join the rest of the pilots in singing the tune.
-----------------------------

Sylvie felt tired, but happy. Or at least something like that. At least everybody had a good time today. Something to be pleased about before the attack scheduled tomorrow. She shook her head. She needed to be in top shape tomorrow, lest she cost somebody their life again. This is why they told us to get to bed early, Sylvie... she reminded herself.

"Tired?" a voice asked behind her. It was John.

"Yeah, thanks for diffusing the depression I caused earlier," she replied without turning around. "Boy," she thought, "why the hell did I say that?"

"I'd say you'd better talk to somebody," John advised.

"We have nothing to talk about," she replied sternly.

"Right, that's why you've been acting weird as hell for the past two weeks," he replied coldly, "You are being cold and heartless, you know that?"

"So what if I am?!" she growled back as she turned to him, almost face to face. She suddenly felt a little embarassed as she saw her eyes, they seemed to be so sad... was he sad because of me?

He quickly drew his face away from hers before speaking, "So you WANT to be like that? To have something always eating up inside you?"

Sylvie's facial expression grew angry. Who are you to decide what I want anyway?

"Because Max is like that you know. Everything that he's done keeps eating up inside of him," John explained further, "And the worse part is, he's alone. He doesn't have anyone who bring warmth back into his heart."

"What if he is... what then? He doesn't care about me anyway..." Sylvie asked, still defiant, but her voice was cracking.

"That's something I can't help either of you with, if you believe that's true..." John told her honestly, "I can help people get over their grief and sadness, it's something me and... her used to do. But in this case, I can't be of any comfort. Only you can," he then turned tand walked away, leaving Sylvie with the thought.
-----------------------------

"Merry Christmas, Jessica," Karl whispered to her picture as he lay alone in his bed. Have you found somebody else yet? he thought, I hope so, and I hope he'll make you happy. Not like I did. Karl's vision suddenly blurred slightly. It had almost been a year, but there were still tears...

Remarks:

- **Even at the height of World War I (and even through most of World War II), both sides still declared truces on the Christmas day.

- ***As Zeon was heavily influenced by Nazi Germany, it's likely that they may also have adopted old German war songs for their own use. 'Lili Marlene' has a rather checkered history though. It was initially played by German radios until a survey showed it was depressing to the men, and henceforth was banned from German radios. After which it became immensely popular among the Allies in its English translated form.

Notice: This story and all related material is copyrighted by Thomas E. "Zinegata" Ting, no part of this story may be taken by any other person. If you wish to use any material, please contact me first. Gundam and all related trademarks are owned by their respective companies.