Of Windmills and War (29 page)

“You’re
crazy about her, aren’t you?”

Danny
blinked at the question. “What?”

“Danny,
you’ve got tears spilling into your ale. She’s obviously more than just a
friend, this Anya you’ve been gushing about for the last half hour.”

He
quickly dashed his wrist against his cheeks, embarrassed by the tears and
puzzled by the fact he had not realized he’d been crying. He blew out a weary
sigh. “I’ve had too much to drink. That’s all.”

Charlie
draped his arm over Danny’s shoulder. “It’s not a sin to get choked up, Danny.
And it’s nothing to be ashamed of—caring for someone like your Anya. She sounds
like the kind of girl that gets deep inside a guy’s heart and won’t let go.” He
patted Danny’s chest for emphasis.

“Look, you
don’t understand. It’s not like that. I’ve never even met the girl!”

“Sure you
have! Hundreds of times on every page she ever wrote you. You don’t have to see
someone face to face to know them.”

He
waved Charlie off, anxious to change the subject.

“And
tell me about Sophie. When our waitress said her name, your eyes got all big like
a lovesick puppy.”

Danny couldn’t
help it. He threw his head back and laughed hard.

“What’s
so funny?”

“Ah,
nothing,” he said, still chuckling. “An inside joke, I guess you could say.”

“Yeah? C’mon,
out with it. This Sophie—is she back home in the states?”

“She
sure is.”

“And by
that forlorn and sappy look on your face, I’d say she’s near and dear to your
heart,” Charlie said, warming up to the story.

“That
she is. A loyal and faithful girl who can’t
wait
for me to get back
home.”

“So is
she pretty? What does she look like?”

“Oh,
she’s a real looker, I can tell you that much.”

“Got a
picture?”

Danny
snorted then composed himself. “No, not on me. But take my word for it, she’s a
real sweetheart.”

Charlie
leaned closer. “And I bet she’s a good kisser, eh?”

Danny fought
it, forcing himself not to laugh. He leaned over to whisper near Charlie’s ear.
“Well, let’s just say she keeps me warm at night.” He waggled his brows for added
effect.

Charlie
patted him on the back. “Now that’s what I’m talking about!”

Danny
held up his hand. “But don’t get me wrong—she’s a good girl, my Sophie.”

Charlie
waited for more.

“Yes,
sir, my sweet Sophie is one in a million.”

“That’s
it, then!”

“That’s
what then?”

“Tell
Anderson
you
want to name your
Fort
Sweet
Sophie.
You said he didn’t care about naming the plane, and since
you’re next in line, that leaves it up to you, right? So name your plane
Sweet
Sophie
—it’s perfect! Named after your girl.”

“Oh,
well, I don’t know, Charlie. She’s not really—”

“Nonsense.
It’s perfect! And just think of how much that will mean to her once she hears?”

Danny dropped
his head and laughed again. How crazy was this? Then again, he had to admit he
liked the sound of it. And if the crew thought he had a girl back home named
Sophie, well, no one had to know Sophie was a dog, right?

He
slapped his palms on the counter. “You’re right, Charlie. It’s perfect!”

Somewhere
a glass smashed on the brick floor followed by a raucous outburst by the American
patrons.

“My
friends! My friends!” shouted one of the enlisted men. Danny noted the sergeant
stripes on the jacket of the stocky American as he jumped up on the hearth. “My
friends! My friends! I beg for your attention for just one moment!”

The
noise level diminished, but only slightly.

“I
apologize for the broken glass. I’ll gladly pay for it, Mr. Quincy. But today
is a celebration. Today, I—Sergeant Cosmos Francis Benedetto from the great
state of New Jersey—along with all my friends from Ordnance Division of the 570th—am
here to celebrate my twenty-first birthday!”

The
room erupted again in cheers and the
thunk-thunk-thunk
of empty pints
pounded on tables.

“Thank
you! Thank you, my friends! And because it’s my birthday—the next round’s on
me!”

Again
the room burst into cheers.

“My
friends! My friends! There’s just one more thing!”

“‘My-friends-my-friends,’”
Charlie mocked. “If he says that one more time, I’m gonna deck him.”

“The
next round’s on me BUT—”

“No
buts! Please no buts!”

“—only
after you give me a moment more to share something near and dear to my heart.”

“Oh,
please no.”

“Shut
up and buy the ale!”

“Let
the guy speak! It’s his birthday!”

“Yeah?
Well maybe it’s MY birthday!”

“Yeah?
Says who?”

“Says
me, you lunkhead!”

The smack
of fist hitting cheekbone sounded just before the room erupted in chaos.

“Uh oh,
time to go,” Charlie said as he stood and grabbed Danny by the arm. He stopped,
dug out a wad of bills from his pocket and tucked them in the pub owner’s shirt
pocket. “I’ll be back tomorrow if this doesn’t cover our bill, Mr. Quincy.”

As jabs
and kicks and shouts and utter bedlam spread through the pub, Charlie, Danny, and
their friends hurried out into the snow-covered night.

“Taxi!”
Whitlow yelled, his hand raised as he dissolved into a fit of giggling.

“Whit,
do you see a single vehicle anywhere?” Banks chided. “It’s not like we’re in
Times
Square
.”

“This
way, gentlemen,” Charlie called.

Two
blocks down around the corner they found a couple of troop trucks. Charlie
greased the palm of one of the drivers and off they went, accompanied by a bawdy
version of “Jingle Bells.”

When
the song ended, they rode in silence—except for the hacking cough of the
truck’s engine.

Then,
out of the quiet wintry night, a voice called out . . .

“My
friends! My friends!”

“SHUT
UP, BANKS!”

38

23
December 1944

Framlingham
,
England

The
walls of the officers’ quarters swirled along with the rhythmic pounding inside
Danny’s head. And he hadn’t even lifted his head off the pillow yet.

“Looks
like someone had a good time last night,” Pendergrass teased as he buttoned his
uniform shirt. “One too many ‘Jingle Bells’ last night, McClain?”

Something
about that sounded vaguely familiar, but Danny ignored the comment. “What time
is it?”

“Oh-seven-hundred.
Better get that sled of yours out of bed if you want some of those tasty gray
eggs.”

His stomach
roiled at the thought. “No thanks.” He sat up but kept his eyes closed, hoping the
room would stop spinning.
How do guys do this day after day?

It took
longer than usual to dress and bundle up, and by the time he stepped out of his
quarters, he finally pitched his cookies.

I’m
never gonna make it through this day.

But
somehow he managed. He nursed several cups of strong coffee in the Officers’ Mess
where he’d found Charlie, Banks, and Whitlow scarfing up full trays of bacon,
eggs, and toast. The smell alone was enough to send him running back outside.

“How
can you eat? Am I the only one who’s paying for last night’s little adventure?”

Charlie
looked around the table. “Apparently so. Course, most of us are seasoned
veterans when it comes to the pints. Right?”

“Here
here!” Banks said, spreading grape jelly on his toast. “Care for a shingle,
mate?”

Danny held
up a palm. “No thanks.”

Charlie
slapped him on his back. “You’ll be okay, rookie. You just need more practice.”

“I
don’t think so, but thanks for the advice.”

As the
others left, he yawned and made a mental note to stay far away from the pubs.
Then he remembered the kindness of Patrick Quincy and his daughter’s assertive spunk.
He hoped the place wasn’t a disaster after the brawl that ensued. Then he amended
his mental note, allowing himself a return to
Quincy
’s but
only for tea and a sandwich.

The
snow must have fallen most of the night, piling up a good four or five inches.
He thought of the snows back home and all those sidewalks and driveways he’d
shoveled over the years. Suddenly, a wave of homesickness blanketed him deeper
than he’d ever experienced.
Must be this hangover. Who in their right mind misses
Chicago
in the
winter?

Danny headed
over to the Officers’ Club hoping to find the latest issue of
Stars and
Stripes.
With a fresh cup of coffee and a comfortable chair near the
fireplace, he settled in to catch up on the latest war news. The headlines
covered Hitler’s grand attack known as the Ardennes Offensive—though nicknamed “The
Battle of the Bulge” by the Allies. The story detailed Hitler’s attempt to break
up the alliance of
Britain
,
France
, and
America
with a
massive, surprise attack on the Allied front lines. The Führer ignored the fact
that his own military was in retreat, depleted of supplies and manpower
following D-Day. But with bad weather grounding the superior Allied air power, he
commanded his forces to bomb the Allies’ front line followed by a ferocious armored
attack.

With a
panzer army of 970 tanks and armored assault guns, along with more than 300,000
troops, the four German armies rolled into
Ardennes
before
sunrise on 16 December, catching the Allies there totally by surprise. Once
again, Hitler ignored an important fact: an armored attack of this magnitude
would require huge quantities of fuel to keep those tanks moving. And fuel was
in short supply for the Germans, thanks to the constant Allied bombing runs
over German fuel plants. Already, the tide had turned as the Allies fought
back. The paper lauded the efforts of the Eighth Air Force saying, “Their
dedication and perseverance under the worst imaginable conditions, helped cut
Hitler’s legs right out from under him.”

Just
then Charlie popped his head in the door of the Officers’ Club. “I’m headed
into town. Want to join me?”

“What?”

“I
said, I’m heading into town. I want to stop by and make sure old man Quincy
survived the brawl last night.”

“That’s
probably a good idea. But I’ll take a pass. I’m afraid one whiff of ale would
send me throwing my guts up again.”

“You’re
probably right. Well, I’ll be back in a while. Try to stay out of trouble,
okay?”

“Will
do.”

Danny decided
to walk over to the Post Exchange and see if he had mail. He’d only received one
V-Mail from home so far, but kept hoping for more. He pulled his gloves on as he
headed back outside. The snow had stopped and the skies looked as if they might
actually clear. He wondered what the odds were that his crew would finally be
put on alert to fly tomorrow. He zipped his jacket, chilled by the breeze but
kept walking. He needed some fresh air to clear his head. As he approached the
Post Exchange, he realized how much he was hoping for a card or letter from
back home.

“Yes,
sir. Here you go,” the staff sergeant said, handing the familiar V-Mail
envelope to him.

Danny recognized
his brother’s awful handwriting and couldn’t help smiling. He tore open the
envelope and began to read.

Dear
Danny,

Sure
was strange having Thanksgiving dinner without you yesterday. Mom put on quite
a spread, as usual. I’m sure it was nothing compared to the grub they serve you
over there. Ha ha. I had an extra slice of pumpkin pie in your honor. You’re
welcome.

Last we
heard you were heading over to the EOT on the Queen Elizabeth. Bet that was
some ride. By now you’ve had a chance to get your feet wet (so to speak). It’s
probably real different than my experience, with you enlisting during a war and
all. Probably scary at times. We’re all praying for you. Millie and I pray
together every night and always ask God to keep an eye on you. Yeah, I
know—hard to picture me a praying sort of guy, right? That’s what marriage will
do to you.

Speaking
of marriage, I wanted to let you know you’ll be an uncle next summer! We just
found out and surprised the folks with the good news yesterday. Made for a real
nice Thanksgiving. Wish you could have been here.

Dad’s
doing okay. He has his days, but more good than bad lately. He’s letting me
take over more of the theater management, and I’m really enjoying that. Right
now we keep filling seats with “Going My Way,” Bing Crosby’s latest film. It’s
not exactly my cup of tea, but it sells tickets. You’d have loved “Double
Indemnity” with Barbara Stanwyck and Fred McMurray. A real steamer. Maybe
they’ll show it on your base sometime. But the one I can’t wait to see is
“Thirty Seconds Over
Tokyo
” about
the Doolittle Raid. It just released, but we haven’t gotten it yet.

Mom’s
good. Real happy about having a grandbaby. She talks about you all the time.
She and Sophie have these ongoing conversations. It’s pretty funny. You’d get a
real hoot out of it. We’re all doing our best to keep Sophie company, but she
still prefers to nap on your bed.

Well,
Danny, that’s all for now. Take care of yourself. We’re all praying this war
ends real soon so you can come back home.

Love,

Joey

Danny reread
the letter two more times before refolding it and tucking it in his jacket
pocket. He headed back outside with his thoughts thousands of miles away. What
he would give to be back home right now, away from all this tedious waiting.
Away from the knot of fear that had camped out in his gut. Away from all these
strangers.

He took
a deep breath, continuing down the slushy road. A Red Cross Clubmobile rolled
up to Hangar #2 where several Red Cross Girls got out and made their way into
the hangar. Danny remembered the Christmas party planned for the local children
that evening. For lack of anything better to do, he decided to check it out. As
he walked in, he was surprised how nice the place looked with strings of
Christmas lights hung here and there, tables set with pine branches and lots of
big red bows. A bandstand was set up at the front as it usually was for the
regular Saturday night dances. A few of the musicians ran through scales,
occasionally playing a couple bars of a familiar carol.

The
room bustled with activity. The Red Cross Girls had obviously dragged a lot of
the guys into helping—not that it took much dragging. Hilda Edwards and her Red
Cross Girls took the lead in these events, and they had never had trouble
persuading the men to help.

“Lieutenant, could you give me a hand?”

Danny noticed the pretty redhead looking his way but assumed
she was talking to someone else. He looked behind him and finding no one,
turned back around. “Me?”

“Yes, you. We need to get all these boxes here moved over to
that table in the back. Then once Santa’s bag shows up, we’ll stuff them
inside.”

Danny joined her beside the stack of boxes, each about the
size of a shoebox, and following her lead, picked up as many as he could. “Are
these for the kids, Miss . . .?”

“Miss Wells, and yes, these are the kids’ gift boxes. We
load them up with all the goodies you guys have contributed—mostly rationed
candy and a few things sent from home. The kids have a ball opening them.”

Danny followed her across the room. “Ah, that explains it. Our
tail gunner has been bugging us for days, rounding up all kinds of goodies ‘for
the kids’ or so he said. I have to admit, I wondered if he was stashing most of
it for himself, but from the looks of all this, I’d say he came through for
you.”

She set her boxes on the decorated table. “What’s his name?”

“That would be Dal Nicholson, ma’am. Nice kid, talks with a
real southern accent even though he’s from my home state of
Illinois
.”

“I know Dal! He’s wonderful! All our girls love him. He’s
been such a great help to us this last week.” She looked around the busy room.
“In fact, he was here just a few minutes ago helping us put up the tree. It was
late arriving because of the weather, but I think we’ll have it decorated in
time. Quite a resourceful one, that Dal.”

Danny followed her back for more boxes. “Yes, ma’am, that
would sure enough be Dal.”

“You said you’re from
Illinois
,
Lieutenant?”

“
Chicago
, born and raised. How about
you?”

“
Tallahassee
,
Florida
.”

“Whoa—from
Tallahassee
to Framlingham. You
must have taken a wrong turn somewhere to end up all the way over here.”

“Not at all. It’s actually quite an honor to be selected as
a Red Cross Girl. Lots of girls apply, but they’re rather selective about who
they send over here. They require us to be single, at least twenty-five years
old, and we also have to be college graduates. Though I have to admit I often
wonder how much my degree really helps when I’m up to my elbows in donut
batter.”

Danny chuckled. “Clearly it helps. We all love those
donuts.”
What a stupid thing to say. Smooth. Really smooth.
“So, what’s
it like, being over here and outnumbered like a thousand to one? Ever get tired
of all the whistles?” He felt his face warm and wondered why he couldn’t seem
to keep his mouth shut.

“Oh, we go through some rather intensive training that
covers all that. In fact, that’s a big part of why we’re dressed in these
military-style uniforms. It sends a message. We’re here to boost morale for our
boys, but we know where to draw the line.” She smiled at him as they both gathered
more boxes in their arms.

Danny had seen many of the Red Cross Girls on base, but he’d
never given them much thought. He’d noticed the way the guys made a big fuss
over these American girls, always circling them as soon as one of the
Clubmobiles drove up. He just wasn’t the kind of guy who cared to elbow his way
through a crowd of guys hoping to have a couple minutes of conversation with a
pretty girl. Still, he’d heard plenty of the other guys talk about how nice it
was to have someone from back home to talk to.

“But I’ll be honest. I’d never really thought about joining
the Red Cross while I was in college. But after my brother survived
Pearl
Harbor
,
I—”

“He did? My brother was on the
Oklahoma
.”

She stopped, her face ashen. “Oh, Lieutenant—I’m so sorry.”

“What? Oh—no! No, he’s fine. I mean, Joey was injured pretty
bad. Burned over fifty percent of his body, but he’s okay now. In fact, I just
found out he and his wife are going to have a baby. ”