by Diane Moody
“Well done, men,” Charlie said. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”
“If I may, Lieutenant,” Cosmos began, his voice warbling. “In honor of this most glorious occasion and my own personal maiden voyage . . .”
Charlie dropped his head down momentarily, then glanced briefly at his friend in the co-pilot’s seat. Danny laughed then said, “Go ahead, Cosmos.”
“Thank you, sir. As I was saying, in honor of this most glorious occasion and my own personal maiden voyage as a guest on this magnificent bird, I wondered if you might allow me to share what’s on my heart.”
Charlie muttered under his breath while banking to the left to begin their trip home.
“Go ahead, Sergeant,” Danny said, fighting a chuckle.
“I would just like to say that I shall never forget each and every one of you and the part you played in what surely must be the happiest day of my life. Not only did Colonel Moller assign me to you fine men, but with all my heart, I believe the very hand of God has reached down to pat me on the shoulder as He says, ‘Cosmos? Do not ever forget what I have done for you this day.’”
Charlie leaned his head back and mouthed a silent scream while Danny flipped off the intercom switch on the pilot’s steering wheel as a precaution. As they continued to watch the scene below them—the Dutch still waving at them in appreciation—Charlie flipped his own switch on. “Thank you, Sergeant. That was . . . well, words fail me at the moment. Now gentlemen, let’s go home.”
63
If the Chowhound mission they’d flown to Vogelenzang had been unforgettable, the return to the base had been nothing short of phenomenal. Everywhere, as crews disembarked from their planes, they whooped and hollered and celebrated as if ringing in the new year in Time’s Square back home. Danny had never seen anything like it.
But stranger still came a penetrating wave of silence that drifted across the 390th’s hardstands replacing the boisterous celebrations. One by one, the men fell silent, overcome by emotions too strong to fight. To a man, they wept. Every single one of them. Some turned their backs, brushing away tears. Others let their tears run freely, holding nothing back as though the long months of the job they’d come to do had somehow found release along with those bundles of food they’d just dropped on the fields of Holland. Then came the bear hugs as the tough airmen acknowledged the unity of their emotions and the incredible symbolism of what they’d done that day.
Food instead of bombs.
Life instead of destruction.
Hope instead of despair.
Not a bad day’s work.
It would be three more days before Danny flew another Chowhound mission. But this time, instead of impatiently waiting his turn, he waited with excited anticipation, eager for another chance to fly another historic mercy mission.
In the meantime, he had another job assignment.
On the fifth of May, he served as best man in the wedding of Lieutenant Charles Janssen and Sophie Elizabeth Quincy. Deciding they couldn’t wait another day—much less for the end of the war—the couple moved up their wedding date and tied the knot that Saturday morning at the quaint Reform Church just down the lane from Quincy’s Pub. On such short notice, only a handful of witnesses joined them, seated on the worn pews of the church’s chapel. But none of that mattered to the bride who smiled radiantly as she walked slowly down the aisle on the arm of her father.
And the groom? Danny had to admit Charlie looked downright handsome in his dress uniform, all shined up and sparkling clean. But it was the silly, love-happy grin on his friend’s face that kept the best man in silent stitches through the brief ceremony.
Later, at the reception, Danny tapped Charlie on the shoulder to cut in on the dance floor.
“The least you can do is allow me to dance with your beautiful bride,” Danny said as he took Sophie in his arms.
“Just mind your manners, McClain,” the groom teased. “Remember I’m the one she goes home with tonight.”
As the phonograph played I’ll Be Seeing You, Danny enjoyed a moment alone with the bride. “I still can’t figure out why a nice girl like you settled for a nut job like Charlie. What’s he got that I don’t?”
Sophie smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, let me think. Oh, that’s right—he’s got me.”
“True. It’s even official now and everything.”
“That it is, Lieutenant. But when all is said and done, it’s actually a bit funny. You see, my father thought you would be the one to marry his only daughter.”
“What?” Danny blanched with a smile.
“Oh, but sure. ‘Now that Danny—he’d be a fine suitor, don’t ya’ know?’ said my Da.”
He twirled her around the small dance floor. “Well, I’d have to say he has good taste, that Da of yours.”
“It’s all that ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ good manners you have, Danny McClain,” Sophie said as if whispering a secret in his ear. “Impressed my father sure enough the first time he met you.”
“Ah, well then. I’ll have to thank my mother. She’s to blame for any good manners I might possess.”
“But Danny, what about Anya?” Sophie asked with smiling eyes.
“What about her?” he said, turning to avoid her gaze.
“You have to go back and find her. Surely you know that?”
He hummed along with the music.
She tilted her head to face him squarely. “You simply have to go back. How will you do it?”
“That, Mrs. Janssen, is the million dollar question. And for the record, one I’ve wrestled with every waking second since the moment I left her.”
The song came to an end and Danny dipped Sophie ever so gracefully to conclude their dance.
Still arched back low in his arms, she said, “Then we must believe that love will find a way.”
He lifted her back up and gave her a hug as the small party applauded. Charlie quickly took his place. A few minutes later, the bride and groom left the pub beneath a shower of rice and best wishes. Borrowing Patrick’s ancient auto, they made their way to the inn on the other side of town. Charlie had hoped to honeymoon in London, but without a proper leave, he had to remain close to the base in case his crew was scheduled to fly another mission.
Danny chuckled later that evening as he read through the roster of flight crews for Sunday. It appeared the pilot-groom would have an abbreviated wedding night.
6 May 1945
Even the disgruntled remarks Charlie continued to make under his breath couldn’t distract Danny’s thoughts. Earlier, during briefing, he’d almost swallowed his gum when Colonel Waltz announced they’d be flying today’s Chowhound mission to Utrecht. He’d coughed, sending the wad of Wrigley’s against the back of a pilot sitting directly in front of him before dropping to the ground. Danny picked it up and stuffed it in a piece of paper.
Utrecht? What are the chances?!
Of course, he had no way of knowing if Anya was back in her hometown yet. She could be anywhere, for that matter. Even with all the previous food drops across The Netherlands, the fact remained—much of western Holland was still under German occupation. Knowing Anya’s stubborn streak, he had no doubt she was still in the middle of whatever covert activity might still be in place, despite the pending liberation.
Liberation. Any day now. Any day!
Later, as they made their way to their hardstand, the crew had chattered like a bunch of magpies, excited to finally get another chance to fly a mercy mission. Charlie remained silent, nervously chewing on his toothpick as he drove the Jeep with all of them loaded on it. He took a sharp turn, almost throwing Eddie, their tail gunner, off the vehicle.
“Hey!” the kid from Oklahoma cried. “Take it easy, Lieutenant . . . uh, sir!”
The others laughed heartily as the Jeep came to a halt beside their Fort. They all piled out and went about their business, preparing for the mission. Charlie threw his pack inside the hatch then turned to Danny as he tossed his toothpick o
n the tarmac.
“So help me, McClain, if that Cosmos character shows up today, I’m gonna—”
Danny held up his hand. “No way that’s happening, so just calm down. We’ve got two cooks coming along this time. I’ve asked Billy to keep them quiet. Satisfied?”
Charlie blew out a huff and started his mandatory final check of the plane’s exterior. Danny hoisted himself up into the plane and made his way to the cockpit. He tried to stay focused on the routine tasks at hand preparing for the flight, but his mind was way ahead of him. Of course, he had nothing to go by except the Vogelenzang mission they’d flown three days earlier. But in his mind he could see them, barely skirting treetops as they came into Utrecht. He visualized seeing Anya up on a rooftop—waving a scarf or something, anything to get his attention. He closed his eyes knowing if he saw her, he’d jump out of his seat, bolt for the bomb bay, and jump out with all the food parcels—if only he could.
Rationally he knew there was no way she’d know he was flying a mission today. After all the thousands of food drops from British Lancasters and American B-17s, did he really expect her to wait around in case he might be flying over today?
The ridiculous notions wrestled in his mind. He was relieved for the interruption when Charlie finally plopped into his seat.
Charlie busied himself stashing his gear and buckling in. “So, we’re heading to Utrecht,” he said without looking up. “Think you’ll see her?”
Danny cocked his head and turned it sideways to pin him with a glare. “Could we just not talk about it?”
Charlie looked up. “Whoa! And I thought I was the one out of sorts? Sorry I brought it up.”
Danny sighed and ignored the comment. “Let’s just get this done.”
They ran through their pre-flight checklist, then Danny checked in with the Control Tower for any last minute changes.
Billy showed up behind their seats. “Hey, did you all bring anything to drop?”
“What do you mean?” Danny asked.
“Y’know, these little parachutes.” He held up a handkerchief wrapped around something, tied to look like a miniature parachute. “Everybody’s been making these. We rounded up some extra stuff for the kids—candy, toys, whatever we could get the Red Cross Girls to help us find. Then we’ll toss ‘em out the same time we drop our cargo. From what I hear, the kids down there love ‘em. The guys on Crazy Eight have flown four of these Chowhound missions already, and they even recognize some of the kids down there now. I heard some kid held up a sign thanking the Crazy Eight for the chocolate.”
Danny smiled. “That’s nice, Billy. Wish I’d known. I would’ve pulled something together.”
“That’s okay. Me and the rest of the guys have plenty. You can bring some next time.” He disappeared calling the other crew members to gather their personal gifts for the kids.
“Too bad you didn’t know, McClain,” Charlie teased. “You could’ve dropped Anya some of that chewing gum you like so much.”
“You’re a real pill today, y’know that?” Danny scoffed. “But I understand. I really do. Had to be tough for you leaving the missus like that, especially being your wedding night and all.”
A green glow distracted Danny then Charlie. They watched the green flare arc toward the ground from the Control Tower signaling time to start their engines.
Charlie laughed. “It’s a real shame,” he shouted over the first engine as it came to life. “I used to really like you.”
“Yeah?” Danny smirked. “Well, the funny thing is—I never liked you anyway!”
Charlie’s laughter was lost over the roar of the engines. “Ready to roll, Lieutenant?”
“Ready to roll, Lieutenant. Let’s do this!”
The silly banter in the cockpit seemed to cut the tension. Danny could never be mad at Charlie. In fact, he honestly felt bad for the guy. He knew the last place Charlie wanted to be was in this big, drafty bird, and who could blame him?
Out of nowhere, Danny found himself thinking about his friendship with Charlie. He couldn’t imagine what this whole war experience would have been like if he’d never met the man sitting next to him. Charlie had been his friend from the moment they met. Come to think of it, he’s the best friend I ever had.
The thought caught him off-guard, and made his eyes water. It didn’t really surprise him, though he looked away to avoid ridicule. He’d been thinking about a lot of things lately. None of them knew how much longer they’d be over here. The war would end any day now, and that was all good. But it also triggered a lot of emotions he hadn’t expected. His life was going to change drastically and soon. But how would it change? Any way he looked at it, it would be bittersweet. No one in their right mind would want to stay here at the muddy base where the sky was always gray and wet, where a trip to the latrine meant a long chilly walk, and where the greasy smells of the mess hall did nothing to improve the taste of the mysterious servings slopped on a tray.
Still, in a crazy way, Danny knew he’d miss it—for all those other reasons. The built-in, easy camaraderie of guys all experiencing the same life-and-death missions, day in and day out. The cozy ambience of the Officer’s Club where a guy could sit by the fire and read or write letters home, or have a nice chat with a fellow officer—or even a colonel. The colorful characters he’d met along the way, especially his crew on Sweet Sophie. He still grieved the loss of those guys, but he wouldn’t have traded knowing them for anything in the world.
And that was the thing he’d miss most of all—the friends he’d made, and no one more than Charlie Janssen. Danny never had a close buddy when he was growing up. He had plenty of friends, but no one who came close to being the kind of friend Charlie was. Maybe having a big brother like Joey had filled those shoes. It wasn’t until he got to know Hans through all those letters that he understood what it meant to have a good friend. And then, Hans was gone.
Which once again brought him back to thoughts of Anya. How in the world could he ever even think of going home without her? He couldn’t. Nor would he. But he still didn’t have a clue how to do that—short of going AWOL, stealing a Fort, and flying back over here to find her. Yeah, like that’s gonna happen.
“Coast of Holland straight ahead,” Charlie announced, breaking Danny’s thoughts. “This may seem like a milk run, men, but keep those eyes sharp for any Krauts still carrying a grudge. We’ll do a fly by then circle back for the drop as instructed.”
Once again they passed over flooded fields, identical to those they’d seen Tuesday. But Danny reminded himself this time it wasn’t Vogelenzang—it was Utrecht. Anya’s Utrecht. Butterflies flitted through his stomach. In a couple of minutes, I could literally be within a few miles of her.
As they neared the city, he was surprised to see colorful tulip fields surrounding the magnificent windmills. For some reason he’d assumed the beautiful structures would have been leveled in all the bombing. Even from such a low altitude he couldn’t tell which one had been the backdrop in the picture of Anya’s family.
And the tulip fields—what a sight. They seemed to stretch for miles in every direction. In his naiveté, he’d assumed they too had all been dug up, their bulbs one of the few remaining sources of nourishment in this war-ravaged region. Yet there they were—vast carpets of vivid colors laid out like so many enormous blankets.
And then came the people. Everywhere they looked, folks rushed toward the field. “I don’t know how it’s possible, but it looks like there are at least three times as many folks down there as we saw the other day,” he said.
Masses of men, women, and children crowded on either side of the field, many waving Dutch flags. As they made their initial flyover, he spotted a handful of people in a church steeple waving wildly. At exact eye level, he gulped hard and waved back wanting to believe Anya was with them.
As if on cue, Charlie dipped the wing in their direction. “You never know,” he said with a smile.
“You never know,” Danny echoed. Just then he
spotted the large white cross. “There’s the drop zone marker straight ahead.”
“We’ll circle and make the drop a bulls-eye on the way back, what do you say?”
The Fort banked to the left to circle back for the approach. As it did, the crew men tossed out their makeshift parachute gifts to the crowds below.
“Enjoy the candy, kid!”
“Here’s some chocolate from Uncle Sam!”
“Give these Lucky Strikes to your moms and dads!”
“Whoa, Krauts on the rooftop, up ahead at two o’clock!” Billy broke in.
Danny spotted the German soldiers, their anti-aircraft weapons pointed at them, tracking their slow circle. Not a single shot was fired. As the Fort leveled out, Charlie flew straight at them, as if to crash into them. The soldiers ran for cover—all except one. He stood indignant, shaking his fist at them and yelling as they passed barely over his head.
“Take that, you Nazi pig!” Charlie yelled, pulling up on his steering column.
The waist gunner named Rocko cheered. “Whoa, Lieutenant! That was close!”
“Yeah, and I’m guessing ol’ Jerry there needs to change his skivvies about now.”
The crew laughed hard and swapped some other colorful suggestions for the soldier.
“All right men, prepare to open the bomb bay,” Charlie said.
“On my count, Danny said. “Five, four, three, two, one, let ‘em fly!”
They all cheered again, enjoying the chance to play the ultimate Santa Claus to the ebullient Dutch folks below.
“I brought my camera this time so you can all see what I’m seeing!” the tail gunner said. “What a sight. Lord have mercy, what a sight!”
As the bomb bay doors closed, Rocko said, “Will you look at that?”
“Look at what, Rocko?” Danny asked.
“Two o’clock, way on top of that red brick building. An old man and a kid. See ‘em?”
Danny searched and quickly found the building. They were so close he could clearly make out their faces. It was just the two of them—an old man standing at attention, saluting them as they passed by, the little boy also saluting with one hand while waving a small American flag in the other. Danny returned his salute and once more fought the boulder in his throat.
