From the Ashes of War Read online

  Copyright © 2018 Diane Moody

  All rights reserved.

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  Cover design by Hannah Moody

  Rear View Of Grandfather And Grandson Walking Along Path | © Monkey Business Images's | Shutterstock.com

  Beautiful colorful holiday fireworks in the evening sky with majestic clouds, long exposure | © Dmytro Balkhovitin | Shutterstock.com

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Though this is a work of fiction, many of the stories and anecdotes included were inspired by actual events that happened in the life of the author’s father. Some names used in this book are those of real people; however, any dialogue or activity presented is purely fictional.

  *Discussion questions are included at the end of the novel.

  Also from author Diane Moody

  Get all three.

  For your reading pleasure we've included the prologue and the first chapter of The Demise at the end of this book.

  In loving memory of my father

  Glenn Howard Hale

  July 17, 1923 – March 20, 2017

  Return to thy rest, O my soul,

  for the Lord hath dealt bountifully with thee.

  For Thou hast rescued my soul from death,

  my eyes from tears,

  my feet from falling.

  Psalm 116:7-8 KJV

  On a personal note

  I was about to leave the house on the morning of March 20, 2017 when my cell phone rang. The call was one I’d dreaded for years, but nevertheless took me completely by surprise. My father always made coffee each Monday morning for the men's gathering in the senior adult community where he lived here in Nashville. When the men arrived at the usual time that day and found the doors locked and no coffee made, they knew something was wrong. They notified the office, and in less than an hour, I answered that cell phone call notifying me that Dad had died in his sleep. He was in perfect health for his 93 years, so while we were stunned at his passing, we were also grateful to know he simply went to sleep that night and woke up in the presence of his Savior in heaven. And oh, what a reunion he must have had with Mom and so many family and friends who preceded him there.

  As you may know, Of Windmills & War was loosely based on some of my father's WWII experiences serving as a B-17 co-pilot with the 390th Bomb Group of the 8th Air Force, stationed at Parham, England. Dad always said that flying a mission in the Operation Chowhound food drops over Holland during the final days of the war was one of his proudest achievements. Writing that book with Dad as he shared so many of his memories was truly a labor of love that I will forever cherish.

  Which is also why it took me so long to return to writing the third book in this series. Now that the book is finished and the series is complete, I must say it’s bittersweet because it sure feels like another goodbye. And while very little of my father’s life is reflective in this last installment of Danny’s story, I’d like to think he would have enjoyed reading the rest of Danny and Anya’s story. In fact, I know he would.

  On a side note‍—‌like Danny‍—‌Dad was a lifelong Chicago Cubs fan. After decades of heartbreaking seasons, he never dreamed he would live to see them play again in the World Series. But on November 2, 2016, in what turned out to be the last World Series of his lifetime, his beloved Cubs WON! What were the chances? Dad was so excited and was often heard saying, “Now I can die a happy man!” Little did we know. Does God have a sense of humor or what?

  At his memorial service, our son Ben and daughter Hannah sang a song dedicated to their grandfather. How fitting that they chose “I'll Fly Away.” Take a moment to listen HERE and watch the slideshow my husband put together celebrating Dad’s life. And thank you from the bottom of my heart for allowing me to share my father with you these many years.

  Diane Moody

  December 2018

  Part I

  1

  20 April 1946

  Chicago, Illinois

  “Well, Anya? What do you think?”

  “What do I think? I think I am freezing.” She hunched her shoulders and burrowed herself beneath her husband’s arm. “Sitting out here with such a bitterly cold wind blowing? Jullie zijn allemaal harstikke gek!”

  Danny arched a brow. “Which means?”

  “It means you are all totally crazy!”

  He laughed, pulling her closer still. “Oh, that little ol’ breeze? That’s just Lake Michigan sending her usual chilly welcome for Opening Day at Wrigley.”

  “Don’t listen to him, Anya,” Millie quipped, seated to her left. “That so-called ‘breeze’ is so frigid, you’d have serious frostbite if not for your heavy coat and gloves.”

  Her husband Joey leaned across her. “Ah, come on you two. Once the game gets started, you won’t even notice the cold. Right, Danny?”

  “Roger that, big brother. Come on, Anya. Tell us what you think of Wrigley Field? Isn’t it amazing? After all the talk and all those letters I wrote you about the games here, is it how you imagined? The seats? The field? The famous scoreboard out there?”

  She couldn’t resist that look on his face. The unabashed excitement, the deepening creases of laugh lines feathering those sweet blue eyes; eyes absolutely giddy with passion for this sacred place and all these people. She knew she would never truly understand all this barely-restrained exhilaration, but if it made her husband this happy, she would learn to like it too.

  She was just starting to answer when Joey hooked his arm playfully around Millie’s neck and leaned toward them again. “Anya, take it from me. This is BIG. First home game of the season after winning the National League pennant last year and playing in the World Series. Sold-out crowd. A gorgeous, albeit breezy, day. C’mon, you have to admit it doesn’t get much better than this!”

  “All right, yes. It’s great. It’s exciting and wonderful.”

  “You’re not just saying that, are you?” Danny groaned playfully. “Because it doesn’t count if you’re just saying it. You’ve got to mean it.”

  “All right, all right! Yes, yes, yes, it’s truly wonderful, and I’m quite sure my life may never be the same after being here with all these baseball people. There. Will that do?”

  He leaned over and kissed her squarely on the mouth. “There,” he teased. “Will that do?”

  “Cut it out, you two,” Joey teased. “You know the rule. No kissing allowed ’til the Cubs score their first run.”

  Anya leaned toward Millie. “Are they always like this at these games?”

  “Probably, but I don’t know. I haven’t been to a game in years.”

  “Why not? Do you not like baseball?”

  “Oh, it isn’t that. I’ve been a Cubs fan all my life. But I figure the boys need some brother time now and then. Besides, I prefer to listen to the game at home with Jimmy. But I’m glad Frank offered to work the theater today so the four of us could come together.”

  Oh, how Anya had grown to love her sister-in-law. She’d felt a kindred spirit with the pretty brunette from the moment they’d met, the night Danny brought Anya home for the first time just two months ago. The memories of that night still blurred in her mind, but she would never forget the open arms of her mother-in-law, the unexpected hug from Danny’s normally gruff father, and dear Millie, who’d treated her like a long-lost sister. Millie’s friendship had made a tremendous difference as she tried to adapt to living in Chicago, America.

  A voice on a loudspeaker interrupted her thoughts, asking everyone to stand and direct their attention to home plate as the players from both teams lined up for the presentation of the 1945 National League flag to the Cubs. The crowd exploded with
raucous cheers after the brief ceremony, then sang along as a band played “God Bless America.” Afterward, one of the groundskeepers drove a small tractor to transport the flag to the flagpole down what Danny told her was the third-base line. When he hoisted the bunting, once again the crowd went wild, even in the middle of the song.

  As they resumed singing, Anya remembered the same heartfelt song from the patriotic concert on the Wisteria, the war bride ship, as it crossed the Atlantic. Gigi, one of her London roommates, had performed the song at the concert honoring the country they would all soon call home. They’d also sung “The Star-Spangled Banner,” the national anthem they’d been taught while on the difficult voyage across the sea. Anya remembered how odd it felt, singing allegiance to a country not her own, and wondering if America would ever feel like home to her.

  But now, as the sea of voices joined in harmony, something about it warmed her spirits. She would always miss her beloved homeland. And while nothing could ever replace the special corner in her heart reserved for The Netherlands, she hoped in time she could remember it apart from the war-ravaged years.

  As the song reached its crescendo, she focused on the here and now, determined to keep the lingering sadness that coated her heart at bay. Loud cheers and applause showered over them as they took their seats again.

  “Okay, Anya, wait for it,” Danny said as he elbowed her; his gloved index finger raised.

  “PLAAAAAAAY BAAAAALLL!”

  Another round of exuberant cheers filled the air as both teams ran back onto the field.

  “That’s Pat Pieper,” he shouted, pressing his lips near her ear. “He’s the voice of the Cubs. And that’s Roy Nelson playing the organ.”

  She blinked. “Why would someone play an organ at a baseball game? Organs belong in churches and concert halls.”

  “Are you kidding? It’s tradition. What’s a baseball game without an organ? You’ll see.”

  She wasn’t altogether sure she would.

  Joey clapped his gloved hands and hooted. “Isn’t this great? Opening Day at Wrigley; we’re coming off a three-game winning streak on the road, and we’ve got Hank Borowy on the mound for us today. I’m feeling the magic, Danny! Aren’t you?”

  “Yeah, but the Cardinals are no cakewalk,” Danny hollered back. “We may have won the pennant, but they beat us sixteen out of twenty-two games last year.”

  “Hey! No pessimism allowed on Opening Day,” Millie teased.

  As the game got underway, the first Cardinal at bat stroked a hit off the first pitch and made it safely to first base. Two batters later, he rounded the bases to home plate, scoring a run.

  Anya noticed a sudden shift in the crowd’s enthusiasm. “Do the batters always hit every pitch?” she asked.

  “Uh no,” Danny said, tugging his fedora lower over his brow. “A run by the opposing team scored by the first batter of the game? I’d say we’re in for a rough ride today.”

  “Oh, don’t worry,” Millie said. “It’s a long game. Plenty of time to score some runs of our own.”

  Anya settled in and did her best to keep up with Danny and Joey’s ongoing explanations of the game on the field. During the long stretches when nothing much happened, she and Millie chatted as they huddled close to stay warm.

  “I cannot wait to see the curtains you’re making for your new kitchen,” Anya said. “It’s such a lovely print.”

  Millie smiled. “Isn’t it pretty? I’ve always loved blue and white together, and I thought it would make our kitchen so bright and cheerful. I’d hoped to have them made in time for our Easter dinner tomorrow, but I don’t suppose anyone will mind.”

  “You’re so brave to have all of us over for a holiday dinner just after you moved in. You’re more organized than I will ever be.”

  “Oh, I doubt that seriously. You’ve been a tremendous help since you’ve been here.”

  “I didn’t do that much.”

  “Yes you did! You helped me set up my kitchen and our bathroom and all our closets. Besides, you made it such fun for me.” She hooked her arm through Anya’s. “But I’ve missed not living under the same roof with you and Danny. It’s so different, just Joey and Jimmy and me.”

  “I’ve missed you too, but I’m so happy for you to have your own home.”

  “We’ll just have to make sure we get plenty of sister time, you and I.” Millie shivered and shoved her hands back in her coat pockets.

  Anya shivered too. “I think it’s getting colder, don’t you?”

  Millie turned to her husband. “Joey, go get us some coffee to warm us up.”

  “What, you mean now? The game just started.”

  “I know, but Anya and I are freezing. Please?”

  Danny stood. “Come on, Joey. I’ll go with you. I need to get Anya a dog to eat.”

  Anya quirked a smile as she shook her head and rolled her eyes.

  “Hey, we’re making history here! Remember when I proposed to you‍—‌”

  “‍—‌on my front porch back home, and I said I thought I should like to ‘eat a dog’ at Wrigley Field. Yes Danny, I remember because you remind me about it every chance you get.”

  “Oh, I love that story,” Millie swooned. “It’s so romantic.”

  “So let’s make McClain history as you eat your first ever hot dog at Wrigley Field.” He pulled her up into a bear hug and kissed her with a loud smack.

  “Hey, down in front!” someone yelled.

  Danny laughed and raised his hands in apology. “Sorry! It’s my wife’s first baseball game ever. Can I help it if I’m excited?”

  The group around them shouted boisterous greetings.

  “Welcome to Wrigley, Missy!”

  “Kiss her again!”

  “Hey, how about I kiss the pretty lady?”

  “Not a chance!” Danny yelled back, wrapping Anya in his arms and re-enacting the now-famous kiss of a sailor and nurse in Times Square on V-E Day.

  They whooped and hollered and blew rowdy wolf whistles as Danny and Anya laughed with them. Joey and Millie joined in, miming the same showy kiss to their ready audience, causing a second round of whistles and hollers.

  Almost two and a half hours later, the foursome filed out of Wrigley along with thousands of other disappointed Cubs fans. The Cardinals simply outplayed the home team, at times eliciting audible groans that rippled through the chilly stadium.

  But as much as Danny would have liked a win for his bride’s first Cubs game, he couldn’t complain after such a fun afternoon. They hopped a crowded El and headed home, grateful for the warmth inside the train car.

  Anya and Millie chatted about the holiday meal planned after tomorrow’s Easter services.

  “Are you sure there’s nothing more we can bring?” Anya asked.

  “Not a thing. Just cross your fingers that Jimmy will go down for a nap after church. That way we can eat in peace and quiet.”

  They laughed and carried on the rest of the way home. As they walked the last block, they turned the corner onto Yale Avenue and found several cars parked in front of their house, one of them a police car.

  “Oh no.” Danny took off in a sprint with Joey right behind him.

  Millie clutched Anya’s arm as they followed. “Oh God, no‍—‌please don’t let it be Jimmy!”

  They rushed up the steps of the house and into the entry hall. “What is it? What’s happened?” Danny asked the crowd filling their home.

  “Danny, I’m so sorry,” someone said.

  “What’s wrong?” Joey bellowed. “What’s going on?”

  “Oh Joey … Danny …” their mother cried, as a path cleared between them in the living room. She reached for her sons, falling into their open arms. “We’ve been waiting and waiting for you to come home. It’s your father‍—‍”

  “Dad? Has something happened to Dad?” Danny asked.

  She drew back and placed a hand on Danny’s cheek, the other on Joey’s. “I’m so sorry. Your father died this afternoon.”
r />   2

  As best they could tell, Frank McClain simply died in his sleep. An employee found him slumped over his desk in the office of his movie theater.

  Frank bought the old Windsor Place Theater back in 1939. He’d jumped at the chance to own his own business and be his own boss. But disappointment and anger had rocked him when neither of his sons obliged him to carry on the family business after finishing high school.

  But life has a peculiar way of intervening, and both boys had stepped in to help when necessary.

  Unbeknownst to his family, in the spring of his senior year, Joey had enlisted with the navy. After an ugly fight with his father on the day of his graduation, he took off in the middle of the night to report for duty. Frank was furious, and he forbade Betty and Danny from ever mentioning Joey’s name again. So they’d quietly kept his letters and their conversations about Joey between the two of them.

  Before his own graduation a couple of years later, Danny worked at the theater after school and on weekends. But like his brother, he had no interest in working for his father for the rest of his life. He’d dreamed of going to college and finding his own path in life. But when his father was brutally attacked late one night in the alley behind the theater, all of Danny’s dreams were dashed. In the long months of Frank’s recovery, Danny had no choice but to postpone college to run the theater in his father’s absence. He finally started his first semester at Northwestern University in the fall of 1941.

  Then came the attack on Pearl Harbor early that December. Joey’s ship, the USS Oklahoma, was one of the first ships to sink on that tragic day; he was one of only thirty-two shipmates to survive. Four hundred and twenty-nine others on the Oklahoma perished. He was shipped stateside to recover, eventually returning home to Chicago. During the slow recovery from his injuries, Joey and his father finally made their peace. And to everyone’s surprise, Joey decided to be a part of the family business after all.