Beyond the Shadow of War

by Diane Moody

  Anya gently took his hand in hers as he paused to compose himself.

  He directed his attention back to Samford. “Do you have children, Major?”

  “I don’t see what that has to do with‌—‌”

  “Do you?”

  He huffed. “Yes.”

  “How many?”

  “Two.”

  “Girls? Boys?”

  “Both girls. Look, McClain‌—‌”

  “What ages? How old are they?”

  “Six and eight.”

  “Then imagine yourself at a train depot surrounded by hundreds of young children being put on a train to God knows where. Your little girls are crying because they don’t understand why you’d send them away to someone you don’t even know. They’re too young to know you’re doing it to protect them, because you love them too much to risk having them stay where bombs are falling. And as the train starts to move, you see the faces of your daughters pressed against the window, sobbing, and pounding on the glass. And behind them you see someone like my wife here who tries to comfort your little girls and take care of them for you. And you have to trust her‌—‌this complete stranger‌—‌because otherwise you never could have let your daughters leave.”

  Danny took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. “And then, when the war ends and your little girls come home, you had better get down on your knees and thank God that someone like my wife here cared enough and was brave enough to keep them safe and sound for you.”

  Anya leaned over and cupped Danny’s cheek with her hand, wiping a tear with her thumb. “Danny,” she whispered. “I love you. Thank you.”

  “I love you more,” he mouthed.

  They took a moment to collect themselves. Samford’s chair groaned again as he sat up, a forced cough clearing his voice. “The, uh … well, you see‌—‌”

  “Major, I want my wife’s name on that list before I step a foot out of this office. From what I hear, none of these bride ships will be leaving anytime soon. We will get you the proper documentation long before you ever submit these forms to HQ. You have my word on that.” He stood and reached for the pen on Samford’s desk and extended it to him. “Do the right thing, Major. Put my wife’s name on that list.”

  He stared at the pen for a moment, then snatched it from Danny’s hand. “Oh hell, why not.”

  Anya jumped up and into Danny’s open arms.

  “Thank you, Major!” he cried. “Thank you.”

  “I need both your signatures,” he said in the same no-nonsense tone. He turned the paper toward them and pointed at two blank lines. “There and there.”

  As he busied himself lighting another cigarette, Anya reached her hand across his desk. “Thank you, Major. I cannot tell you how much this means to me.”

  “I believe he just did.” He nodded toward Danny and blew out a lungful of smoke as he shook her hand.

  After signing their names, Danny straightened and threw a salute.

  Samford returned the salute. “Now, get out of here before I change my mind.”

  12

  The remaining hours flew by as Danny and his crew made final preparations for the flight home. He packed his belongings from the quarters where he’d lived since first arriving at the base last December. It seemed a lifetime ago. He could hardly remember the person he was when he first stashed his gear in the drafty Nissen hut on that freezing night. The stove at the center of the hut had done little to keep them warm despite their efforts to keep it stoked. How young and naïve he’d been back then, with his primary concerns focused on creature comforts, impatient to fly his first mission.

  He thought of Dick Anderson, the pilot whose crew he’d been assigned to back home. Anderson didn’t have an outgoing personality, but he was good at his job. His steady command of the crew and crackerjack abilities in the cockpit always got them back to base in one piece … except, of course, the Hannover mission on 28 March. That day, Sweet Sophie sustained massive damage from anti-aircraft fire on the return flight. Anderson was among those fatally injured; a piece of shrapnel slicing the aorta in his neck before Danny and those remaining jumped from the flaming Fort over a field in Holland.

  The images of that day seemed forever seared in his mind, though he’d made a constant and concerted effort not to dwell on them. But now, as he gathered his belongings, he found those memories first and foremost in his thoughts. Why had he survived when others didn’t? He’d always given his mother credit, knowing it was her prayers that had kept him alive. But what about Sully Thornton’s mom in Atlanta? Or Shorty Lowenstein’s mom in Pennsylvania, or Jimmy Foster’s mom in Nashville? Surely they prayed for the safety of their sons just like his own mother had. Why were her prayers answered and theirs weren’t?

  Danny shook his head and raked his fingers through his hair. Let it go. Just let it go. There’ll be time to figure all that out later. He made one last check to make sure he had everything, then closed and locked his footlocker as the door of the hut opened.

  Corporal Higgins threw a salute as he entered. “Lieutenant McClain, if you’re ready, I’ll take your footlocker for you. We’ll load it on the truck outside and make sure it’s stowed on your Fort tonight, all set for your departure tomorrow morning.”

  Danny returned the salute. “Thank you, Corporal.”

  “You’re welcome. ID information correct on the tag, sir?”

  “Yes, it is. My home address in Chicago, along with my telephone number.”

  “Very good, sir,” Higgins said. “Have a safe flight home.”

  “Thank you. When do you and the rest of the ground crews pack up for home?”

  “We’re not sure, sir. We’ll stay as long as they need us here. Better here than Japan, the way I see it.”

  “Point well taken. Any of our guys sent over there yet?”

  “None that I’m aware of, sir, but I’m not privy to that kind of information.”

  “Okay. Thanks, Corporal.”

  Higgins threw another salute then hefted Danny’s footlocker onto his shoulder and left.

  Danny looked around the hut one more time. He certainly wouldn’t miss the place, but couldn’t deny the strange and sad fondness for his memories here. A moment later, he placed his cap on his head, grabbed his small duffel, and left.

  That afternoon, Danny kept his focus on his last remaining hours with Anya, making them as special as possible. When he returned from the base, he insisted she join him for a drive in the countryside to a spot he’d scoped out earlier in the day. Once there, he opened the trunk of Patrick’s automobile where Sophie had stashed a picnic basket and a couple of quilts.

  “What’s all this?” Anya asked as he closed the trunk.

  He handed her the quilts and kissed her cheek. “What does it look like? It’s a picnic.”

  “But where did it come from?”

  He took hold of her hand and led her through the grass. “I had a little help. Sophie put it all together for me. I thought we might enjoy some time to ourselves, away from everyone else.” He winked at her before checking the sky. “At least as long as those clouds up there cooperate. I found a nice little spot under that tree just ahead.”

  They made their way through the grassy field to a gentle rolling hill sheltered beneath an enormous oak tree. “Nice, isn’t it?”

  She offered a tentative smile and nodded, then spread out the quilts near the tree. “It’s lovely.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that. Have a seat and let’s see what Sophie put together for us.”

  He unlatched the clasp and lifted the basket’s lid on its hinge. “Get a load of all this food.”

  They both reached in, removing wedges of cheese, a thick slice of ham, a loaf of fresh baked bread, and two rather large cinnamon scones for dessert.

  Danny chuckled. “There’s enough here for an army. I hope you’re hungry.”

  She set out the plates and utensils. “A little.”

  “Here’s the knife. How about cutting us some
slices of ham and cheese.”

  They chatted as they ate, making small talk about the view around them, the peaceful quiet surrounding them, the threatening sky, and anything else that didn’t have anything to do with his departure the next day.

  As they finished sharing one of the scones, Danny could stand it no longer. He brushed off his hands and reached back into the basket and found the small wrapped box he’d asked Sophie to hide for him. He slowly set it on the quilt before her.

  “What is this?”

  “What does it look like?”

  She picked it up. “Some kind of gift.”

  “Go on. Open it.”

  She pulled the ribbon free and unwrapped the slender box, then opened the lid. She carefully lifted the silver bracelet and held it, admiring the charms. “Danny, it’s beautiful.”

  “You like it?”

  She paused a moment then said, “I can’t imagine anything more lovely. Thank you.”

  He took it from her hand and clasped it onto her wrist. “I found it in one of those shops we visited in Aldeburgh. I slipped out that afternoon you were resting and went back to buy it.”

  “I’m beginning to realize that you can be a bit of a sneak.”

  “But a good sneak, wouldn’t you say? Look at the charms,” he said, pointing them out. “The windmill is to remind you of Holland.”

  She smiled, fingering the tiny windmill. “How did you find it here? They have windmills in England?”

  “I have no idea, but the minute I saw it, I knew I had to buy it for you. The lady suggested putting it on the bracelet. I know you don’t wear much jewelry, except for your wedding ring, but I thought you might like it. Then I saw this airplane and thought‌—‌”

  “‌—‌it would remind me of you.”

  “Yes. It’s not a B-17, obviously. I think it’s a spitfire like the RAF boys fly, but I knew you’d get the idea. Then I figured we could add more charms along the way. Special reminders of our new life together.”

  She held her wrist before her. “Danny, I love it. Thank you.” She leaned over to give him a kiss, then rested her forehead against his. “I’m going to miss you so much,” she whispered.

  Danny pulled her close, her head tucked against his shoulder as he leaned back against the tree trunk. “Not half as much as I’m going to miss you.”

  He could feel the beating of her heart against his side and wished the moment would never end. They sat like that for a while, neither of them speaking. He searched for the right words, anxious to stay optimistic even though they both knew it might be a long, long time before they’d be together again.

  She turned to look up at him. “What will you do when you get home? We haven’t talked about it much. Will you live with your parents until I come?”

  He brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “That’s my plan. Mom said she and Dad would love for us to stay with them until we find a place of our own. Which is good, because I’ll need some time to figure out our finances.”

  “Will you go back to college?”

  “I’m thinking about it. Would that be okay with you?”

  Her brow crinkled. “Well, of course it would. Why do you ask?”

  “Because these are things we should decide together. I wouldn’t dream of doing anything without first talking to you.”

  “Will you go back to Northwestern?”

  “Probably, though I’d attend their Chicago campus instead of making the commute to Evanston. That way we could stay with my folks and save some money until we decide what we want to do or where we might go.”

  “How will we pay for it? For school?”

  “The word around the base is that the government will pay for it.”

  “Really?”

  “They’re calling it the GI Bill. It was passed last year in Congress as a means to help all of us soldiers get back on our feet after the war. Supposedly, they’ll even provide living expenses while I’m in school, and later, they’ll help us on a down payment for a house.”

  “That’s very generous, isn’t it?”

  “Absolutely. Depending how long it takes to receive the funds, we could actually get our own place sooner than I thought. But since I’ll be in classes all day, it just seems to make more sense to stay at Mom and Dad’s so we can save money, but also so you won’t be all alone every day while I’m at school.”

  She didn’t say anything, but shifted to lean her back against his side. He draped his arm across her shoulder, resting it against her chest as they looked out toward the horizon.

  “You’re awfully quiet, Anya. Everything okay?”

  “I was thinking about your father.”

  He chuckled. “Well, that’ll do it. My dad’s been known to quiet legions of crowds by simply walking into a room.”

  “I believe you’re exaggerating.”

  “A little, perhaps.”

  “I wonder …”

  “About what?”

  She fidgeted, and he could almost feel her tensing.

  “What if your father doesn’t like me?”

  “Are you kidding? What’s not to like? He’ll love you.”

  “Do you not remember all those letters you wrote? How mean he was to your mother and to you? And in the letters to Hans about how mad he was when Joey left to join the navy?”

  “Oh. Those. I guess I forgot about those.”

  “I haven’t. I’m not so sure I want to meet him. I have no patience with people who are mean to others. What if we get into a fight, your father and I? What if he‌—‌”

  “Anya, stop,” he said, turning her to face him again. “Don’t do this. You’re getting all upset without giving him a chance to get to know you.”

  “But if I’m to live in the same house, and he decides I’m not good enough for you, and‌—‌”

  He placed his hand gently across her mouth. “He would never think you’re not good enough for me. Trust me, honey. If anything, he’ll say I’m not good enough for you.”

  With his hand still over her mouth, she rolled her eyes.

  “He’s going to love you. And so will Mom. I have a feeling you and Mom will become the best of friends. You’ll love her. And then there’s Joey and Millie‌—‌oh my goodness, I just remembered! Joey and Millie’s baby is due in just a few weeks!”

  “That’s wonderful,” she said, pulling his hand away and attempting a brave face.

  “I’m just guessing, but something tells me Frank McClain might mellow a bit when his first grandbaby comes along. Babies have a way of doing that, I hear.”

  She studied him, her eyes still reflecting the conflict bubbling inside her.

  “But will they have room for us? All living in the same house?”

  He exhaled, wishing he could make her see how pleasant it would be, having the family all together with a new baby in the house. “Sweetheart, you’re just going to have to take my word for it. It will all work out. You’ll see.”

  She looked away, taking another deep breath.

  “Come here.” He scooted away from the tree trunk and tugged her into his arms as they lay back. “You’re going to be fine, Anya. We both are. So, no more worries about my dad or anyone else for that matter. Right now, all we need to focus on is getting you to America. I’ll do everything I can on my end, and you make sure you’re on that first ship to sail, okay?”

  She nodded, but barely.

  “The war’s over, honey. We don’t have to be afraid anymore. We’ve got a whole future ahead of us, don’t you see?” He pulled her closer, kissing her, loving the feel of her in his arms and the softness of her lips.

  “And one day,” he whispered near her ear, his voice husky with pleasure, “we’ll have our own home and fill it with love and happiness … and lots and lots of babies.”

  She shivered then kissed him hungrily. He wanted nothing more than to share the love filling his heart and soul‌—‌but just as the desire rolled through him, a rumble of thunder in the distance stilled them bot
h.

  “Oh no,” he groaned, sitting up to scan the skies. “We probably need to make a run for‌—‌”

  She yanked his tie, pulling him back down to her. “Not just yet, Lieutenant,” she whispered. She threw the other quilt over them and picked up where they left off.

  Later, in the afterglow of love, they gathered their things and made a dash for the car just as the sky unleashed its downpour. Shouting and laughing over the roar of the thunder, they piled in the car and headed back to the pub. There, they hurried up the back stairs to their room, soaked to the bone but too in love to care.

  And as the logs crackled softly in their fireplace and the distant thunder continued to rumble, they spent their last night together.

  Or so they thought.

  For five long days, a thick fog clung to the islands of Great Britain scrubbing any chance for the anxious crews of the Eighth Air Force to start their pilgrimage home. The stubborn fog held fast even as the drenching rain soaked the entire country. With so many delays, the other stops in Iceland and Greenland got backlogged with planes, further complicating the rolling schedules as those airfields had weather problems of their own.

  In Framlingham, nerves frayed with each passing day as the restless Yanks passed their time playing poker, reading the Stars and Stripes, and getting into more than a few scuffles and brawls. Adding to the angst was the glow of the red light in the Officer’s Club each evening, banning alcohol to the majority of the 390th inhabitants as they waited. The few remaining Red Cross Girls brewed gallons of coffee instead.

  For Danny, the extra days with Anya seemed bittersweet. They’d had the perfect day together on Tuesday. Even as he rose before sunrise on Wednesday, he’d left his wife in a good frame of mind. But with each passing day, as they’d say their goodbyes only to say hello again a few hours later, their shared anxiety began to take its toll. Danny was anxious to leave; tired of the constant limbo and stress it put on Anya.

  Then, on Monday morning, 25 June, with a break in the clouds, it was finally his crew’s time to go. He had once again kissed his sleeping wife, knowing with certainty that he would not see her for months. Then, as he and his crew rode the Jeep out to their hardstand, he glanced up at the partially clouded sky and prayed for more clearing.