Of Windmills and War (2 page)

For more information on the 390th Bomb Group, please visit
their website at
http://www.390th.org/

Or visit the 390th
Memorial
Museum

Located on the grounds of

the
Pima
Air & Space
Museum

6000 East Valencia Road

Tucson
,
Arizona
 
85756

520.574.0287

Diane Moody

Part I

1

June
1938

Chicago
,
Illinois

“For
Your many provisions, we give thanks, O Lord. For Your grace and mercy and love
beyond measure . . .”

With
his head still bowed as his mother prayed, fifteen-year-old Danny McClain slowly
crawled his fingers into the basket of biscuits resting just beyond his glass
of tea. Working his hand beneath the cloth napkin covering the warm biscuits,
he grabbed the closest one and slid it silently onto his plate.

“And
today, we thank You especially for the occasion of Joey’s graduation. Bless him
as he begins this new chapter in his life.”

Danny
peeked across the table at his brother, surprised to find Joey’s head bowed. Ever
the family clown, Joey had been his role model for mischief as far back as Danny
could remember. Sneaking biscuits during Mom’s prayer was practically a ritual
between them.

“And
now, O Lord, we ask You to bless this food for our nourishment and us for Thy
service. Amen.”

“Amen,”
they echoed around the table. Everyone except Dad, that is. Danny’s father tolerated
Mom’s prayers, but otherwise he just ignored God. As usual, he quickly changed
the subject.

“I want
you to run the route with me tonight, Joey. I’ll expect you ready to go at
midnight
sharp.”

“Tonight?”
Joey stabbed a pork chop and dropped it onto his plate. “But I’m meeting up
with the guys tonight. We just graduated and we’re all going down to the—”

“Precisely,”
Dad snapped, plopping a mound of mashed potatoes on his plate. “That little
stunt you pulled at graduation was a disgrace. If you weren’t eighteen, I’d
take you out to the shed and make sure that never happened again. But you’re
out of school now, and it’s time to grow up. You’ll have plenty of time for
your friends later. Tonight you come with me. It’s time you learned the family
business. Might as well be tonight.”

Danny looked
at Joey and watched his brother’s face crimson as he spooned green beans onto
his plate. He noticed the little nerve along his brother’s jaw line twitching.
Never a good sign.

“Frank,
don’t you think Joey deserves a night off?” Mom asked quietly. “This should be
a night of celebration with his friends, and—

“And
when I want your opinion, Betty, I’ll ask for it.”

Mom
didn’t respond. She took a small bite of her potatoes but said nothing.

Why
does she let him talk to her that way? Why does she put up with him?
Danny
hated dinners that started this way. You could cut the tension with a butter
knife. They always ended the same—with everyone all worked up and saying stuff
he didn’t like hearing. He focused on the butter he was slathering on each half
of his biscuit, hoping to tune them out.

After a
few moments of uneasy silence, Danny said, “Hey Joey, did you see the carrot
cake Mom made you? Five layers!”

“Yeah,
Danny, I saw it.” Joey put his fork down. “I keep telling you, Dad. It’s
your
business, not mine. I never wanted it. I’m real proud of you and all you’ve
done, but it’s not what I want to do with my life.”

“It’s
good work and you’re mighty lucky to have it,” Dad answered, mumbling a few
choice words.

Danny heard
his mother’s long sigh. “Frank, please,” she said.

“I’ll
say what I want to say. It’s my home. I built it. And no one’s gonna tell me
how to talk in my own house.”

Danny mouthed
his father’s words along with him. The discussion was another family ritual,
one he didn’t like at all. He snuck a peek at Mom and wasn’t surprised to see
her eyes glistening.
How come she always cries? She’s heard it a thousand
times before. Surely she’s used to it by now.
Still, Danny often marveled
at his mother’s gentle ways and wondered how on earth someone so kind and
loving ended up with someone so hateful and mean.

She
cleared her throat and tried to smile. Danny didn’t even try.

Suddenly
Joey stood, the legs of his chair scraping against the hard wood floor. “May I
be excused?”

“Sit
down and finish your dinner,” his father growled. “There’s plenty of folks that
would be happy to have a hot plate of home-cooked food right now, so you just
park yourself back in that chair and clean your plate.”

Danny rolled
his eyes. He watched Joey take a long, deep breath then turn toward his mother.
“Mom, thanks for dinner.” He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, picked up his
plate and glass, then left the room.

“You
get back here this instant!” Dad yelled.

The
squeaky hinge of the back door preceded a mighty slam. His dad launched into a
tirade laced generously with four-letter words. He cursed the day Joey was born
and railed at Mom for being too easy on him. Then he threw down his knife and
fork and stormed out of the room.

Danny and
his mother sat there listening as the door slammed a second time and the
colorful language gradually faded. He just hoped Joey had high-tailed it out of
the neighborhood.

Danny forked
another bite of potatoes and smushed it into the remaining beans on his plate.
“Joey’s never gonna work for Dad. How come Dad won’t let him just do what he
wants?”

Mom
carefully folded her napkin and set it beside her plate. “Your father’s a
complicated man, Danny.”

“That’s
putting it mildly. He knows Joey wants to join the Navy. If you ask me, he’s
just being stubborn.”

She
peered over her glasses. “It’s not your concern, son. Best you stay out of it.”

“But
Mom, it
is
my concern. I see the way he treats Joey. He treats me the
same way. It’s not right!”

“That’s
enough.”

Something
in her tone slowed the anger boiling inside him. He finished off his biscuit
and washed it down with a gulp of tea. He waited, wondering if his father would
come back. He waited, wondering what his mother would say if he did. But he’d
heard it all before.

In the
fall Danny would be a junior in high school. In two years, he’d be the one
graduating. He wasn’t about to let this scenario play out when his turn came.
He wanted to go to college and get a degree. Like his brother, he didn’t want
to carry film cans from one theater to another all night every night. He’d go
crazy doing the same thing over and over, night after night.

Right
then and there, Danny decided to make a plan. He’d work extra hard to make good
grades so he’d be accepted at Northwestern—maybe even get a scholarship. He’d
work hard each summer mowing yards and doing as many odd jobs as he could. In
the winter, he’d shovel snow for his neighbors and see if Mr. Chaney needed
help at the corner grocery store. He’d open a savings account and save every
dime he made.

Because
when it was his turn to walk across that stage in a cap and gown, and his turn
to sit down to a family dinner afterward, Mom and Dad would both know Daniel
Howard McClain had plans. Big plans!

With
his newly resolved determination, a wave of relief washed over him. He reached
over and squeezed his mother’s hand. “Mom?”

“Yes?”

“I’d
like to celebrate. How about we cut us a couple pieces of that carrot cake?”

Danny sat
straight up in bed, his heart pounding. “What?” He looked around in the
darkness, wondering what had awakened him. He turned on his bedside lamp and
looked at his clock.
Eleven fifty-five
. He’d only been asleep for
a couple hours. He could hear the yelling downstairs and wondered what on earth
could have happened. Suddenly his mother appeared at his door.

“Mom?
What is it? What’s going on?”

She covered
her face with her hands and wept, her shoulders shaking.

Danny threw
back the covers and crossed the room, grabbing his mother’s arm. “Mom, you’re
scaring me. What’s happened?”

She
took a moment to compose herself, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. “It’s
Joey. He’s gone.”

“What?
You mean he still hasn’t come back since dinner?”

“No, he
came back. He told us he was going to lie down for a little while before going
with Dad on his routes. And . . . and I went to bed. Your father
had set the alarm to get up at
eleven forty-five
like
he always does. And when he did, he went to Joey’s room to wake him up and he
was gone. His bed was made. He was just gone. He left a
note . . .”

“A
note?”

“It
said he’d enlisted in the Navy way back in March. He was leaving to report for
duty.” Suddenly she looked up at him. “Danny, did you know? Did he tell you he
was doing this?”

“No! I
would have told you if he had, Mom. He never said a word to me about it.”

She
sniffed a couple more times and wiped her eyes again. “Your father
 . . .”

“Dad
must’ve hit the roof.”

“I’ve
never seen him so angry. He said such horrible things.”

“Every
time Joey brought up going into the service, Dad got upset. Why? Why’s he so
dead set against it?”

She
walked over and sat on the end of Danny’s bed. “I don’t really know. He lost a
lot of friends in the Great War. I suppose maybe he’s afraid of losing Joey if
we should get pulled back into the trouble over in
Europe
.”

“But if
Joey wants to serve his country, why can’t Dad just be proud of him and let him
do it?”

She
smoothed her cotton robe and took a deep breath. “I can’t speak for your father.”
She shook her head. “Oh Joey, what have you done? What have you done!”

Danny patted
her arm, trying to think what to say. He was shocked, but mostly he was happy
for Joey. He was free! He’d always wanted to see the world and now he would.
Danny tried to picture him standing at attention in a crisp white
uniform . . . even now, he couldn’t help feeling proud of him.

“He
didn’t even say goodbye,” Mom whimpered.

Danny stood
beside her and wrapped his arm around her trembling shoulders. “Because he
couldn’t, Mom. With Dad so angry, he didn’t dare tell you. He’ll be okay,” he
said over her soft cries. “Joey’ll be okay, Mom.”

They
heard the front door slam and his father’s heavy footsteps coming up the
stairs. His mother gave him a quick hug and slipped out the door, closing it
behind her. For the next hour he heard nothing. Not a sound. His mind ran wild,
wondering what it would be like not having Joey around.
That makes me the
only kid in the house now. That’ll be weird. Will Dad take out his frustration
about Joey on me?

When
sleep eluded him, he got up and turned on his desk light. As quietly as he
could, he opened the bottom drawer and pulled out the cigar box. Lifting the
stack of letters from the box, Danny looked at the postmarks from The
Netherlands and wondered what Hans would do if something like this happened in
his family.

At the
beginning of school last year, his geography teacher made an assignment. Each
student had to pick a country and learn as much as they could about it—and they
had to choose a pen pal from that country. Mr. Chesterton had a master list of
names and addresses from kids all over the world. Danny groaned when he first
heard the assignment. He wasn’t much of a writer, and he sure didn’t want to
write letters to some kid he didn’t know half-way around the world. But as
others started picking names and countries, he knew he had no choice. Browsing
through the list, he saw the name
Hans Versteeg
from The Netherlands. He’d
always been fascinated by those
National Geographic
pictures of
Holland
’s
windmills, so why not pick a Dutch kid?

It took
him three days to write his first letter. It was only a page long but Danny hadn’t
been able to think of anything interesting to write. After several rewrites,
he’d finally finished his “Letter of Introduction” as Mr. Chesterton called it.