Of Windmills and War (47 page)

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
on 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.