Of Windmills and War (50 page)

Authors: Diane H Moody

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical

He smiled
as he lifted it from her hand. “I know this pig. Hans made this for you, didn’t
he? It was his Sinterklaas gift to you.”

She
nodded. “Because whenever he asked me to do something, I always said—”

“—when
pigs fly,” he said along with her.

“And
then I turned around and you were here.”

He
laughed. “Does this mean the pigs are flying?”

She
tried to smile. “Perhaps they are.”

He
handed the tiny pig back to her and she returned it to her pocket. Cupping her
face with his hand, he brushed away her tear with his thumb. “I love you, Anya.
I have loved you for so long. Since the moment I left you that night at the
coast, I’ve thought of nothing but you.” He wrapped his arms around her again,
her head tucked against his chest. “You never have to be alone again. Ever.”

“And
what have I told you about making promises you can’t keep?” she teased quietly.

He
leaned back to face her. “Well, this is one I
know
I can keep.”

“Ja?
And how can you know this?”

“Marry
me, Anya.”

She
stiffened, blinking up at him. “What?”

“You heard
me. Marry me. And let me spend a lifetime keeping promises to you.”

He
couldn’t tell if she was still in shock or possibly trying to make a decision.
Another tear spilled down her cheek just as a trembling smile tried to take
shape. He touched his lips to hers, and this time she responded eagerly. He
could hardly think straight, his heart so full of love for her. How long had he
dreamed of holding her again? He couldn’t tell if she was laughing or crying,
but it didn’t matter. As long as she was here in his arms, he could handle
anything.

When
she finally eased back to look up at him, Danny stared into her eyes with an
easy sense of belonging.

“I
still don’t know how you found me,” she said. “How did you know to come here?”

“Don’t
you remember? The last time I saw you, you said you just wanted to go home.” He
took her hand and led her down the hall toward the front door.

“I
know, but I didn’t believe you’d ever come back,” she said. “I wouldn’t let
myself believe it. I thought everything you said . . . I thought
they were just meaningless words from a man who didn’t know how to say
goodbye.”

They
stepped out onto the front porch. “Shows how much
you
know.” He quirked
a smile at her.

They
sat down side by side on the top step. “But how did you find my house?”

“I
remembered your address. All those letters you wrote when we were kids—I guess
I memorized your address without even realizing it. And when I got over here, I—”

“And
how exactly
did
you get over here?”

“I
guess you could say I hitch-hiked.”

“What
does that mean, hitch—”

“Hitch-hike?
It means I caught a ride over.”

Her
brows crinkled as she searched his face.

“They’ve
been transporting our POWs from the camps back to
England
. The
planes are empty on their way over, so I climbed on board. And here I am.”

“Just
like that? You stowed away and no one saw you?”

“No,
no, I had permission. Turns out the Old Man has a soft heart.”

She
shook her head, raking her fingers through her hair. “You always talk in such
riddles, Danny McClain. Of the hitch-hike, of some old man—”

“Not
some old man—
the
Old Man. It’s a long story. Suffice it to say, my
Commanding Officer sends his best wishes and told me to send him an invitation
if the wedding is in
Chicago
.”

“This
officer, he is from
Chicago
,
America
too?”

Danny
smiled. “Yes, he is from
Chicago
,
America
too.”
He leaned over to plant a kiss on her forehead. “So what do you think?”

“What
do I think about what?”

“Should
we invite him?”

Her
smile began to fade, and she looked out across the scattered debris in her
front yard. A trace of the former sadness drifted across her face. He knew what
she was thinking.

Several
moments later, she leaned her head on his shoulder. “Danny, I think I should
like to meet your mother and father.”

“Yeah?”

“And I
think I should like to meet your brother Joey who steals biscuits during
prayers.”

He
chuckled. “Yeah?”

“And I
think I should like to eat a dog at Wrigley Field.”

He
threw back his head, laughing out loud. “I think you mean a ‘hot dog’.”

“Yes,
then. I think I should like to eat a
hot dog
at Wrigley Field.”

He
smiled. “I think we can make that happen.”

She
reached into her pocket, then placed the tiny carved pig in his hand, and
closed his fingers over the small wooden keepsake. Looking up into his eyes,
she smiled. “Yes, Danny McClain, I will marry you. And yes, the pigs will fly.”

He
laughed, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. “Perhaps they
will, Anya. Perhaps they will.”

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The Rest of the Story

Most
Americans have never heard of
Operation Chowhound
. Most English have
never heard of
Operation Manna.
But mention either of these life-saving
missions to those of Dutch heritage, and chances are they will smile with knowing
eyes. Mention these missions to the veterans who flew them, and chances are the
y’ll
tear up at the memory.

For the history books,
Operation Manna
/ Chowhound
was the first mission of its kind flown by military aircraft to
drop help instead of destruction on those below. The war was winding down near
the end of 1945, but those in western
Holland
faced certain starvation. While the
southern part of The Netherlands was liberated, the highly populated areas of
the northwest still endured brutal retaliation from the Germans. During the
“Hunger Winter” the Dutch in those areas who had subsided on less than 600
calories a day, now had nothing. More than 16,000 men, women, and children died
from hunger and the bitter cold.

Exiled Queen Wilhelmina begged the Allies
to save her people before it was too late. What happened next was nothing short
of a miracle.

In response to the Queen’s plea for help,
a plan was quickly orchestrated. On
April 17, 1945
, Air Commodore Andrew J.W. Geddes, Chief
of Operations and Plans of the Second Tactical Air Force, was instructed by
General Eisenhower’s staff to formulate a plan to airlift food to the starving
3,500,000
people of western
Holland
. A few days later, Geddes presented a brilliant strategy
which was immediately approved. An hour later he was on his way to Achterveld
in The Netherlands where he would meet with German officials.

On April 28, the German officers arrived
at the conference. It became quickly apparent that the four men had been sent
on a fact-gathering mission with no authority to sign an agreement. They were
sent away with terse instructions to return with whatever authority was
necessary. They were also informed that General Eisenhower had ordered the food
drops to begin the following day, April 29—with or without their approval. If a
single plane was shot upon by the Germans, they were told “
Germany
will cease to exist.”

Upon hearing that
Reichskommissar Seyss-Inquart, the German commander over Occupied Holland,
would be accompanying a large delegation, a prank of sorts was put into motion.
Members of the Dutch Resistance had recently stolen the large black Mercedes
staff car belonging to the proud Reichskommissar. Seyss-Inquart adored the
vehicle. These Dutch Resistance workers had given the car to Prince Bernhard,
the Commander in Chief of the Dutch Forces. That morning, Bernhard drove the
vehicle to the meeting and parked it where Seyss-Inquart couldn’t miss it—its
license plate “RK-1” still attached. The German commander seethed upon seeing
his beloved car now in the hands of his enemies.

But Seyss-Inquart, refusing to believe
Germany
was about to lose the war, stood his ground and refused to
cooperate with regard to the food drops. It took several heated exchanges and
outright threats by Geddes and other Allies to force the German to sign.

Between April 29 and May 8, English
Lancasters and Mosquitos, and American B-17s flew almost 6,000 missions,
dropping more than 12,000 tons of food and supplies to specific locations in
western
Holland
. Some of these planes flew lower than
300 feet off the ground. The Dutch were thrilled with the food “raining down
from heaven,” but even more excited at the implication of these bizarre events.
To see the Allied planes flying so low with no Germans firing at them could
mean only one thing—the war was almost over! Liberation would soon be theirs!

When the long war finally ended, the
Dutch slowly began putting their lives and their country back together. Queen
Wilhelmina returned from exile and opened half of her palace to those of her
people who had been in prisons and concentration camps. There, the heartbroken,
beaten, and downtrodden found a place to rest and recuperate. Hundreds of
others volunteered to help these wounded souls, and the queen insisted on
visiting her “guests” each night and having tea with those helping them. No
wonder they loved her so.

Many of the men who flew these
life-saving missions remember them with gratitude, tremendously thankful for
the opportunity they had to bring hope to a nation so desperately in need.
Those messages of “MANY THANKS” and “THANKS, YANKS!” spelled out in tulips and
other ways meant the world to them.

And to the Dutch men, women, and children
who waved and cheered as they flew over them, the images and memories of those
ten days have never been forgotten.

May
we
never forget.

Glenn Hale — Then
and Now