Of Windmills and War (30 page)

She set down the stack of boxes on the table and quickly put
her hand to her chest. “Oh, thank goodness. For a minute I thought—well, it
doesn’t matter what I thought. I’m just glad he’s okay.”

“Your brother survived
Pearl
too?”

“Yes. He had a rough time of it, but he’ll be fine. I mean,
someday he’ll probably be all right. It really messed up his head, if you know
what I mean.”

“I do. Some of the things Joey told me . . .
well, it’s a wonder any of them came out of that in one piece.”

“After Richey came home, I just couldn’t stop thinking about
all those wonderful nurses and Red Cross people who were so good to him over
there. And that’s when I made up my mind to do my part, so I joined the Red
Cross.”

Danny followed her along with another stack of boxes. “He
must be real proud.”

“I guess he is. As much as he can be.”

“Lieutenant McClain!”

Danny turned to see Dal Nicholson walking in with several of
the girls, a huge tangle of Christmas lights in his hands and an even bigger
smile on his face.

“Hi, Dal. Looks like you’ve got quite a mess there.”

“Yes, sir, but I’ve got plenty of help, as you can see. Real
nice of you to help out, sir.”

“I could say the same for you.”

“Yes, sir, you sure could.”

“Come along, Dal,” a tall blonde said, tugging at his
sleeve. “Let’s string these out and see if we can untangle them.”

He gave Danny his trademark smile with a wink, then followed
the girls to a spot in the corner of the room.

“Will you be joining us for the party tonight, Lieutenant?”

“Sure, Miss Wells. I wouldn’t miss it. But please, call me Danny.”

“Danny it is. Then you must call me Sally.”

“Sally it is.”

Later that evening, when Danny returned to the hangar, the
room was filled to capacity with the local children and their parents. The band
played Christmas carols, the lights twinkled in the soft light, and everywhere
he looked, he saw smiling kids.

“Danny!”

He turned to find Charlie walking his way, surprised to find
him holding hands with a rather striking female.

“You remember Sophie, don’t you?”

“Sophie? Sophie! I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize you—I mean
without the apron and all.” He couldn’t believe it was the same girl. Her auburn
hair curled just below her shoulders, a hint of make-up on her pretty face, and
a deep blue dress. No wonder he hadn’t recognized her.

“I suppose I could have worn my apron,” she said, smiling
demurely, “but I was afraid they might put me to work. And to be honest, I
needed a night off.”

Danny turned toward Charlie who beamed from ear to ear. “And
I suppose your trip into town had nothing to do with this?”

“What? Oh, well, I fully intended to go see Sophie’s father
to make sure his place wasn’t in complete ruins after last night.”

“Which, of course, it wasn’t,” Sophie added. “Da never lets
things get out of hand. Right after you all left, he fired off a warning shot,
and they all scampered into the night like so many field mice.”

Charlie slipped his arm casually around her slender waist.
“When I stopped in to see him this afternoon and asked how it went, he didn’t
say a word. Just pointed up to the ceiling. That’s when I noticed it was full
of bullet holes.”

“Da knows how to keep order.”

Danny tried to picture the scenario. He turned his gaze back
to Charlie. “Then Sophie just happened to be there and you just happened to ask
her to the party tonight?”

Sophie put a hand on her hip. “I’ll have you know a proper
English lady doesn’t accept a request for a date the day of. It’s considered
poor taste. Lieutenant Janssen invited me half-way through the evening last
night. That would be about the time you and Da were having a bit of a chat.”

He smiled at them. “Well, then. Happy to do my part.”

The band started quietly playing “Here Comes Santa Claus”
just as Colonel Moller stepped to the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys
and girls—just moments ago, a whole herd of reindeer landed on the roof of the
hangar, and rumor has it Santa is on his way. In fact, there he is now! Boys
and girls, let’s give a great big welcome to jolly old St. Nick!”

The kids squealed and rushed closer as Santa and his helpers
made their way to the platform.

“Here, Danny, let me hold your punch glass so you can join
the other children.”

“Very funny, Charlie.”

A few more announcements were made then the children lined
up with their parents in tow, waiting for their turn see Santa and receive a
gift box from the man in red. Danny watched the excitement on the faces of the
local children as Santa’s helpers handed them wrapped boxes out of his big red
bag—the same boxes he and Sally Wells had loaded into the bag earlier that
afternoon. That’s when he realized the bouncing red curls of one of Santa’s
helpers. In a red dress trimmed with white fur and a hat like Santa’s sitting
jauntily on her head, Sally seemed to be having as much fun as the kids around
her.

As the music played on, Danny drifted around the room making
his way closer to the front while watching clusters of little ones as they
opened their presents. They all seemed delighted with the boxes filled with
candy and toys, coloring books and crayons, socks and knitted gloves.

A young boy held up an orange. “Mummy, what is it?”

“Oh, it’s a very special treat, William. It’s a fruit called
an orange. Would you like me to peel it for you so you can have a taste?”

“No, I want to save it for Christmas day.”

Danny smiled, remembering the joy of saving special presents
for the big day when he was a kid.
But an orange?
Then he realized the
child, no more than four or five years of age, would never have known what it
was like to live in a world not dominated by war and rationing.
No wonder
the tyke had no idea what an orange was.
He looked up just as Santa’s
redhead helper approached him.

“Lieutenant McClain, you came!”

“I promised I would. You look quite festive, Miss
Wells.”

“Ah, this old thing? Just a little something I dug out of my
closet.”

“Somehow I doubt that. But you look—well, you look lovely
tonight.” Something flitted through her eyes just before she looked away. He
quickly changed the subject. “It looks as though the kids are enjoying their
presents.”

“I never get tired of these parties, especially seeing their
faces light up when Santa comes in. And every single one of them says a very
polite ‘thank you’ to him. It always amazes me how grateful they are.”

“I’d imagine they’re extremely grateful under the
circumstances. Would you like some punch?”

“Yes, that would be nice.”

He extended his hand, gesturing for her to go first as they
made their way to the refreshment table. He filled a glass for her then one for
himself.

“Cheers,” he said, raising his glass for a toast.

“Cheers,” she mumbled, looking away again while taking a sip,
her hand slightly trembling.

“I’m sorry,” he began, “Have I said something to offend you?
I can’t help but notice there’s something—”

“No, Lieutenant. I—”

“It’s Danny, remember?”

She took another sip from her glass then set it back on the
table. “Danny, I think I should tell you . . . that is, I
probably should have told you earlier that I . . . you see, I’m
engaged. And I wouldn’t want to give you the wrong impression or lead you on.”
She looked down at her hands which she’d clasped together.

Danny studied her for a moment. She was definitely
attractive. Actually, she was quite beautiful. And there was no question that
he’d hoped to see her tonight. It had been a long time since he’d been around a
woman or even entertained the thought of starting something again.

Then another thought crossed his mind. He reached out and took
hold of both of her hands, giving them a squeeze. “Thank you.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“Thank you for being honest with me. But thank you even more
for being faithful to that lucky guy who wants to marry you.” He squeezed her
hands again then let them go.

She smiled, releasing a long breath. “Oh, yes. Well, thank
you. But, if you don’t mind my asking, why would you say such a thing? Why
thank me?”

He nodded for her to go ahead of him, pointing her toward
the chairs around the outer perimeter of the room. As soon as they sat down, he
took a minute, trying to figure out how to convey what he was thinking.

Finally he just looked up at her and blurted it out.
“Because I was once in love with someone. I loved her, and I wanted to marry
her, then we were apart for a few months one summer, and she got engaged
to someone else.”

“Oh, I see. Goodness, that must have been horrible.”

“It was. Pretty much ruined my sophomore year at college,
that’s for sure. I’d never really dated much, so I guess I just wasn’t ‘up to
par’ on these things. I just assumed she was as crazy about me as I was about
her.” He stopped, nervously flicking his finger against the crease in his
slacks. “I’m rambling and telling you a lot more than you need to know.”

“Not at all, Danny. Remember this afternoon when I told you
we go through a lot of extensive training? We learn all about being good
listeners. I know I kind of joked about them teaching us where to draw the line
when it comes to men making advances, but more than anything, the reason we’re
here is to be like that girl next door back home. Just someone to talk to. So
please, go on. Your girlfriend got engaged to someone else. That must have been
awful for you.”

He turned to face her. “It was. I’d never been so shocked in
all my life. But the thing is, when you told me a minute ago that you were
engaged, I wanted to hug you—and not for the reason you might think, but
because you let me know you’re spoken for. I really appreciate that. Instead of
flirting or letting me think I could ask you out, you remained faithful to your
fiancé.” He ran his hand through his hair. “All I’m trying to say is, well,
it’s mighty refreshing to meet a girl who doesn’t lead a guy on.”

She pulled off her Santa hat and laughed. “Oh, thank
goodness. I was afraid I’d hurt you or—”

“Not at all, Sally. In my own unbelievably
pathetic
way,
I was just trying to say thanks.”

“Well then, you’re welcome. But I should probably be
thanking you instead. You wouldn’t believe how many guys aren’t distracted at
all when I tell them I’m engaged. In fact, if anything it seems to encourage
them to try harder.”

He shook his head. “Some guys have all the nerve.”

“Okay, Lieutenant, you can cut the sarcasm.” She stood up
and placed the Santa hat back on her head. “I’m glad we had this talk.”

“Me too. And I hope we can be friends. I’m running low on
those right now.”

“I’d love that. I really would. Well, I need to get back.
See you around?”

“Absolutely.”

39

29 December 1944

Framlingham
,
England

“Lieutenant McClain? Mission today, sir. Time is 0300. Rise
and shine.”

Danny felt the nudge on his shoulder and covered his eyes
against the glare of a flashlight shining in his face. “Thank you, Corporal.”

“Have a safe flight, sir.”

He sat up, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He hadn’t slept
well. In fact, the orderly’s wake up call had startled him. He heard the call
repeated down the rows as the others who would be flying today were awakened,
but assumed he was dreaming.

The sleep fog finally cleared as Danny realized the
significance of this day.
First mission today. Oh, Lord, it’s finally
happening..
Butterflies danced through his gut.

He quickly dressed, gathered his shaving gear, threw on his
coat, and trudged out the door with the others. The frigid air scattered away
the last trace of sleepiness as he followed the others to the ablution center. How
many times had they been reminded about the importance of a close shave on
flight mornings?
In order for the oxygen mask to fit tightly and securely
around your mouth, an extra close shave is imperative on flight days.

After a quick stop back in his quarters, he hopped on the
six-by-six truck with the others for a trip to Combat Mess. Flight crews were
served real eggs instead of powdered on the day of their missions, along with
ham, corned beef, pancakes, and lots of other options they didn’t normally have.
Danny wasn’t the least bit hungry, but he knew it could be ten, maybe twelve
hours before he’d have a chance to eat again. He tried to get down what he
could, washing it down with strong coffee. He sat with Anderson and
Pendergrass, and wondered if they were as nervous as he was. The room felt strangely
surreal. The cigarette haze was nothing unusual, but the peculiar silence
bugged him—silence occasionally interrupted by those acting out their nerves
with horse play.

As Danny drained his second cup on his way out, Charlie
caught up with him.

“Morning, McClain. How’re you holding up?”

“So far, so good.”

Charlie patted him on the back. “You’ll do great today. Don’t
worry about a thing. Besides, I’ll be keeping an eye on you, okay?”

“Yeah, you’ve got nothing better to do than watch out for
the green horns at the back of the formation.”

“That’s what auto-pilot is for. Didn’t they tell you?”

“Good to know.”

A few minutes later they were back on the truck, whisked
away to the Briefing Room located near the flight line. Once they filed in and
took a seat on the long hard benches, Danny’s jitters kicked into double-time. Even
the smells in the room got to him—aftershave, sweat, and enough cigarette smoke
to choke thirty chimneys. Regardless, he took a couple of deep breaths, trying
to stay calm.

You’ve trained for this. You know the drill. You’ll be fine.

He closed his eyes for a moment. As he did so, the image of his
mother came out of nowhere—on her knees beside her bed, her hands folded in
prayer. He’d seen her there so often when Joey was overseas.

Keep ‘em coming, Mom.

He opened his eyes, staring through the hazy room to the
front wall which was shrouded beneath a heavy black curtain.
Check out the
yarn pulley on the left side of the map,
Charlie had told him earlier.
If
the pulley is way down, you’ll be home in time for dinner. If the yarn’s all used
up, say your prayers.

“Ten-hut!”

The thunder of boots hitting the concrete floor filled the
room as everyone stood. A millisecond of quiet, then the quick, steady
footsteps of the Group’s leaders echoed as they made their way down the middle
aisle and up onto the platform.

“Have a seat, gentlemen.”

Colonel Joseph Moller, Commanding Officer of the 390th, began
his introductory comments from the podium. “Gentlemen, your mission today is an
opportunity to advance the cause of liberty in a substantial way. What you do
today will have a tremendous impact on the outcome of this war. Do your best,
and remember that those back home are proud of you, and so are we. Good luck,
gentlemen. Colonel Waltz, Group Operations Officer, will now detail your
mission.”

Lieutenant Colonel Robert Waltz, second in command of the 390th,
stepped up to the podium and nodded to the S-2 Security Officer assisting him. The
lights dimmed as the black curtains parted revealing a map of
Germany
which filled
the entire wall. “Gentlemen, your target for today is
Frankfurt
,
Germany
.”

Groans and murmurs rippled across the room sending another
wave of butterflies through Danny’s stomach. He was starting to regret he’d
eaten any breakfast at all. Then, like everyone else in the room, he simply busied
himself taking notes as Colonel Waltz detailed the marshaling yards they would
bomb in a matter of hours. Danny studied the elaborate map, their course
plotted by yarn stretching across the outlines of
Britain
’s
coastline, the
North Sea
, and across the Continent into
the Führer’s backyard.

Following Colonel Waltz’s comments, the S-3 Officer from Operations
and Planning described the pertinent operation details. The S-2 Officer
representing Intelligence described what they could expect as far as flak and
enemy fighters. The Weather Officer then listed current conditions for the flight
over, but more important, the prediction for conditions above the target. Danny
knew his would be the final word in determining whether their mission would get
the green light.

Colonel Waltz returned to the podium, checking his
wristwatch. Everyone in the room did the same. “Time-tick. Gentlemen, it is now
four-thirty-four minus thirteen seconds . . . ten, nine,
eight . . . three, two, one—Hack!” With the official synchronization,
the meeting adjourned.

As they filed out of the room, Dick Anderson and the other
first
pilots stayed in the briefing room for any
last-minute instructions, while Danny and the other co-pilots headed to the
changing room. He knew that Pendergrass would join the other navigators in a
separate room to draw up their flight plans. Sully would go to another room set
up for bombardiers and toggeliers to finalize the check points and receive the
flimsy
sheets
that would help identify the target. Chaplains, both Protestant and
Catholic, roamed the entire area, available for prayer or encouragement to
anyone who wanted or needed it.

In the changing room, Danny handed over all his personal
effects which were catalogued and held until he returned. He knew this
procedure assured that no personal information would be available to captors in
case the plane was forced down. Next, Danny received his flight bag which
included his folded silk parachute. He swallowed hard when a corporal handed him
the bag containing prisoner-of-war aids and rations.

At this point, he stripped down to his long johns to put on the
blue heated flight suit beneath his uniform. Next, he put the heated slippers
inside his combat boots. By the time he was dressed again, a thin layer of sweat
made him clammy beneath all the layers. How much of that was from the extra
layers and how much was from nerves, he couldn’t tell. Danny slipped on his
parachute pack, strapping it securely, then pulled on his life jacket—known
affectionately in the Army Air Force
as
Mae
West
—over his head.

Once they were all suited up, they loaded their gear back on
a six-by-six for the trip out to the hardstand where
Sweet Sophie
stood
in readiness. He admired the fancy big letters painted for her nose art. When
the base artist asked what kind of picture he wanted to accompany her name,
Danny told him that wasn’t necessary since “no picture could do her justice.” Now,
seeing her name written in script, Danny smiled, loving the fact that his
entire crew thought Sophie was his girl back home.

Now, in the darkness,
Sophie’s
interior lights glowed
as if welcoming her boys. The gunners were already on board, mounting their fifty-caliber
guns and stocking their clips. While the ground crew attended to last minute
details, the Ordnance Crew finished loading bombs into
Sweet Sophie’s
bomb bay. A gas truck lingered to top off the tanks.

Danny and the other officers joined them after hopping out
of the truck. Nervous chatter assured Danny he wasn’t the only one feeling the
first-mission jitters. While
Anderson
made a final check of
Sweet
Sophie’s
exterior, Danny grabbed his gear and headed toward the front of
the plane. He tossed his bag inside, then turned to attend to one more matter
before climbing aboard. In the bushes ringing the hardstand, he joined several
of his crew for one last “comfort” stop.
Twelve hours is a long time to hold
it,
Charlie had said.

Finally, Danny hoisted himself up into the front end of the
plane. After stowing his bag, Shorty handed him his flak jacket. He climbed
into the cockpit after
Anderson
, slipping into his seat on the
right. After strapping on his flak jacket, Danny went through the pre-flight
checklist with Dick and tuned in to the Control Tower for any last minute
changes. As co-pilot, Danny then requested the crew’s roll-call.

“Toggelier, checking in.”

“Navigator, checking in.”

“Top turret, checking in.”

“Radio operator, checking in.”

“Ball turret, checking in.”

“Right waist gunner, checking in.”

“Left waist gunner, checking in.”

“Tail gunner, checking in.”

Danny took a deep breath as he kept his eyes glued to the
tower, watching for the green flare which would signal time to start their
engines. As he waited, another annoying round of butterflies flitted through
his abdomen, so he tried to pray.

He had never doubted there was a God. But right there, at
that particular moment in time, he wished he’d spent more time with the Lord.
Mom had always been the praying one in the family, but he was smart enough to
know he couldn’t very well ride her spiritual apron strings into battle. With
his eyes still open and watching for the flare, he prayed silently.

God, I feel kind of stupid calling on You now when I’m facing
such a dangerous situation. Seems like I should’ve prayed a lot more before all
this. But the fact is I’ve trained two years for this. And in a few minutes,
we’ll be flying out of here through some treacherous skies with a belly full of
bombs beneath us before we dump them in the heart of
Germany
. I’m
as ready as I’m ever going to be, but I’m sure You can tell I’m scared to
death. Lord, I’d be awfully glad if You could take these nerves away from me so
I can do the job I need to do. I promise I’ll do better and spend more time
with You when this is over. Amen.

Ten minutes later, a green flare arced through the air above
the Control Tower. Danny and Anderson went through a final checklist then
flipped all four ignition switches. The noisy engines coughed and sputtered then
roared as
Sweet Sophie
came to life. Soon after, at a snail’s pace she
turned to the right out of her hardstand onto the perimeter track, and took her
predetermined place in the taxi lane. As they reached the end of the runway, as
soon as the plane ahead of them was on the roll, Anderson taxied out and lined
up for take off. Both he and Danny stood on the brakes as the engines revved to
their highest pitch. With a full bomb load and full fuel tanks, building up
airspeed was critical to lift off before they ran out of runway. The B-17 shook
violently as if every rivet on the plane would surely pop out. Then, with
engines screaming,
Anderson
gave the sign to release the
brakes, and they were on their way.