Beyond the Shadow of War Read online

  “Marv, you sure we can’t pay you for these?” Joey asked.

  “Get outta here. Your money’s no good to me. Besides, you’re both veterans so you get in free anyway. These just give you better seats.”

  Danny extended his hand a second time. “Thanks so much, Mr. Clancy.”

  “Call me Marv. And you’re welcome. Have a good time, boys.”

  Joey wove his way through the crowded tunnel with Danny right behind him.

  As they made their way to the third base side of the stadium, the powerful aromas of popcorn, hot dogs, and grilled burgers ushered back memories of years gone by when he and Joey came to the beloved park with gloves in hand. Their pockets filled with change, Danny and his brother came ready to buy snacks and sodas from the vendors. Doubleheaders dictated a splurge for hot dogs, and over the years, they’d decided that no hot dog tasted better than those eaten at Wrigley during a ball game.

  “Never like this before the war,” Danny shouted. “I can’t believe this crowd.”

  “I know, isn’t it great? Dad and I came to some games earlier this season, but they were nothing like this. Only goes to show you what a winning season can do. Here we go. This is our entrance.”

  They walked back into the sunshine and began their descent to the sectioned box seats behind the Cubs dugout. As they located their seats on the aisle, they looked at each other with grins so big, they had to laugh.

  “Doesn’t get much better than this, little brother!” Joey said.

  “Wow—I forgot they painted the scoreboard and bleachers green last year. That’ll take some getting used to, don’t you think?”

  “Lots of fans have been bellyaching about it, but that’ll end once we win the pennant. Hey, look,” Joey said, pointing toward the dugout. “There’s Derringer making his way back from the bullpen. He must be pitching today.”

  “Still the flashy dresser with a hot temper?” Danny asked.

  “Flashy as ever, still smoking his pipe in the clubhouse, and always ready for a fight,” Joey said with a chuckle. “But he started the season as the winningest pitcher in the majors, so Grimm puts up with him.”

  Joey waved over a vendor and bought two bags of peanuts and two sodas, insisting on paying. “Hey, I’m the one with an income, so these are on me.”

  “You think you’re a regular Rockefeller, don’t you?”

  “Hardly. Just happy to have my kid brother back at Wrigley with me.”

  “Happy to be here, big brother.” Danny clapped him on the back. “Hey, is that still Roy Nelson playing the organ?”

  “Sure is. Have to say I was surprised when other ballparks around the country started installing organs like ours here. Never thought baseball fans would go for it.”

  “Maybe, but you have to admit if Nelson weren’t playing, it would seem awfully quiet now that we’re so used to it.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  As the team headed back to the dugout, Danny asked about the Cubs’ beloved manager, Charley Grimm.

  “They never should’ve let him go back in ’38. Everyone was thrilled when Wrigley brought him back last year to replace Wilson. The team loves him, and wow, that makes all the difference in the world.”

  “Attention! Attention please!” cried the familiar voice over the PA system. “Have your pencil and scorecards ready, and I’ll give you the correct lineup for today’s first game!”

  “Ol’ Pat Pieper’s still calling the games, eh?” Danny laughed as Joey nodded. “Do you remember Dad telling us how, back in the old days, Pieper used to run up and down the lines lugging his big megaphone to call the game?”

  “Yeah, I heard him interviewed on the radio the other day. Said he always lost seven or eight pounds a game, especially in the dead heat of summer.”

  “PLAAAAAAAAY BAAAAALLLL!” Pieper roared.

  The crowd cheered the Cubs then booed the Philadelphia Phillies as they took the field.

  “I still can’t believe we’re having such a great season,” Danny said, “especially with all the latecomers trickling back from the war.”

  “No kidding,” Joey added. “Supposedly, out of the 600 or so major league ball players, about 360 were drafted into active service back in ’41. Pretty much gutted some of the teams. Course, that gave a lot of the 4-F players a chance to shine.”

  “But how could those guys be fit enough to play ball, but culled from active service? Like Phil Cavarretta. He’s been a powerhouse for years, so how come he didn’t get drafted?”

  “Some kind of hearing problem, I think. A lot of the 4-F guys had issues like that‌—‌problems that had no real impact on their playing. High blood pressure, ringing in the ears, color blindness, that sort of thing. And before the attack on Pearl in ’41, guys who were married with kids didn’t have to serve since the government didn’t want them to leave their families with no income. Course, as the war dragged on, a lot of those guys were drafted anyway to do desk jobs on the home front.”

  “Didn’t you tell me only nine guys showed up at the start of spring training down in French Lick?”

  “Yeah, weird, huh? It was so bad, they had to hire some semi-pro players, and even some high school kids to play. Which was pretty funny since they could only play on weekends because of school. Can you imagine? And there was a 53-year-old coach who showed up to play at third.” Joey shook his head and laughed before taking another swig of his soda. “I can’t even picture what that team must have looked like. Oh, and get this‌—‌they were stretched so thin on the mound during some of the early spring training games, they had to borrow pitchers from the opposing teams.”

  “Unbelievable. Especially when you consider they started the season like that. And yet here they are, close to snatching the National League pennant!”

  “Yep, that’s our Cubs. And during a war, no less. But they had their challenges just like all the other clubs. Like traveling. Back in ’42 when Roosevelt wrote his ‘Green Light’ letter, allowing baseball to continue during the war ‘for the good of the country’‌—‌that was easier said than done. Since the troops had priority over the rails, the teams got bumped all the time which messed up everybody’s schedule. The Phillies ended up in a baggage car once because there were so many soldiers on board.”

  “Couldn’t happen to a nicer team,” Danny teased.

  “Got that right.”

  “So what’s the situation with the lights? In one of your letters, you wrote that Wrigley finally bought some for night games, but handed them over to the navy once the war started. Think we’ll get lights anytime soon?”

  “He made a good call on that, since none of the stadiums could use lights during the blackouts. But I haven’t heard any more about it. Guess the money’s still tight even though the war’s over.”

  About halfway through the game, Joey suddenly elbowed Danny. “I can’t believe I forgot to ask you. Did you meet Beverly this morning?”

  “Yes, and I’m glad I did. Mostly, she wanted to apologize for dumping me for Ronnie. Turns out he’d been cheating on her before he left for the Pacific. Not only that, his pregnant girlfriend showed up on Bev’s doorstep.”

  “Ouch. That had to hurt.”

  “No kidding. So she not only lost her husband in the war, but she has to live with the fact he’d been unfaithful to her. I think that’s why she wanted me to know how sorry she was for hurting me. And I’ll be honest. As rotten as it was to hear how all that turned out for her, it felt kind of good when she admitted she’d made the wrong choice, picking him over me.”

  “Well, there you go. Nice to hear her say it, but no need to see her again. Right?”

  Danny watched Phillies pitcher Andy Karl throw another strike. “What did you say?”

  “I said there’s no need to see Beverly again, right? Now that you heard what she had to say?”

  Danny shrugged. “I’m sure I’ll run into her on campus from time to time, but otherwise, no. And just so you know, I wrote a letter to Anya a
nd told her all about it. Mailed it right after I met with Bev. So that’s that.”

  “Here’s hoping.”

  A pop fly sailed over their heads as fans scrambled to catch the foul ball.

  “Here’s hoping?” Danny asked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Well, look at it from Anya’s perspective,” Joey began. “She’s thousands of miles away, frustrated with all the delays of getting over here, and now she’ll get a letter mentioning your old girlfriend who you’ve now seen twice and you’re bound to see now and then on campus? Put yourself in her shoes. Wouldn’t that make you a little jealous?”

  Danny glanced at him, then shelled another peanut and tossed it in his mouth. “I see your point, but it’s a little late now, don’t you think? And let’s not forget it was Millie who suggested I write Anya about seeing Beverly, just to keep it on the up-and-up.”

  Joey slurped more of his soda. “Oh, no you don’t,” he teased. “You got yourself into this. Don’t be dragging Millie or me into your problems.”

  “Who said anything about problems?”

  “Riiiiiight,” Joey mused as the inning ended.

  Danny arched his back as the Cubs took the field again. After warming up, Derringer threw his first pitch.

  “I still can’t get over the change in Dad. I keep waiting for the grumpy old guy to light into me or have an outburst at the dinner table. He’s a lot more subdued than he used to be.”

  “Hey, considering what he used to be like, I have no complaints. In fact, it’s been a real kick watching him with Jimmy. I doubt he ever cradled you or me like that when we were babies. Seems like when we were kids, all he ever did was try to make us as miserable as possible.”

  Danny laughed. “Well, it’s obvious he didn’t inflict too much harm. You make a pretty good father yourself, at least from where I’m sitting.”

  “Hey, it’s easy when you’re married to a great girl like Millie. She’s smart and lovable, no matter what she does or has to put up with. To watch her, you’d think she was a pro at this parenting thing. And it’s obvious Jimmy picks up on her confidence. Course, he’s got us both wrapped around his little finger most of the time.”

  “You can say that again.”

  Their conversation ebbed and flowed as the game stretched on. In the seventh inning, the Phillies rallied two runs as Derringer lost his steam. Grimm sent in two relief pitchers, but the damage was done. The Phillies won 4-3.

  “Sure hope we didn’t bring them bad luck,” Danny said, standing to take a stretch.

  “We’ll get ‘em next game. Are you hungry?”

  “Starving. The hot dogs are on me. Let’s go stretch our legs and buy some on the way back.”

  Twenty minutes later, they’d wolfed down two dogs each and washed them down with a second round of soda. Back in their seats for the second game, they cheered as the Cubs and Phillies once again took their respective spots on the field.

  “Glad Passeau is pitching this one,” Danny said, happy to see number 13 take the mound. “I was hoping to see the old man pitch today. He’s got to be nearing forty, right?”

  “Nah, he’s only thirty-six. He was another deferment. That gunshot wound to his left hand when he was a teenager must’ve scared off the draft board, but lucky for us it’s never affected his pitching.”

  “Or his hitting. Didn’t he start the season as one of the majors’ best hitting pitchers?”

  “Yeah, his bat has been on fire these past few years. He’s racked up hits and home runs like you wouldn’t believe. Cubs got their money’s worth with Passeau.”

  “Sure hope he can give us a win this game. I’d hate to spend this many hours at Wrigley only to see them lose both games.”

  Thankfully, the Cubs romped the Phillies 6-0 in the second game as lucky number 13, Claude Passeau, pitched the shutout for his seventeenth win of the season. The Cubs were now 87-52-1 on the season, and the McClain brothers couldn’t be happier.

  23

  20 September 1945

  London, England

  Anya made numerous trips to London, most of them by herself since Sybil would be with her once she arrived. On a trip in mid-September, she and Sybil endured the dreaded physicals. Anya received the required smallpox immunization, but since pregnant women were excluded from the requirement, Sybil didn’t have one. Afterward, Anya felt feverish and her arm ached for hours, both common side effects of the immunization. She was grateful for a chance to rest that afternoon at Sybil’s flat.

  Sybil stretched out on the loveseat beneath a window and fanned herself. “I don’t know why you don’t go ahead and move in with me here and save all these trips back and forth to Framlingham.”

  Anya took a seat on an overstuffed chair. “I suppose at some point I will. Maybe it’s childish, this attachment to Sophie and Charlie. Patrick too. But when I’m with them at the pub, so close to the base, I feel closer to Danny, strange as that may sound.”

  “No, I understand. That’s why I still go to Rainbow Corner a few nights each week. There’s a reason that section of London is called ‘Little America.’ You can feel it when you walk in the door, even though most of the Americans are gone now. Still lots of personnel here, but mostly we see them on weekends. I’ve seen some of those boys from the embassy there. Nice fellas. Polite. We should go.”

  “What?”

  “You and me. We should go. You’re staying over tonight, so let’s pop down to Piccadilly and see what’s happening at the Rainbow. I can’t believe I didn’t think to take you before.”

  “But I feel awful right now. All clammy and my arm still hurts.”

  “Then take a little lie-down and let’s see how you feel later. I promise you’ll have a good time.”

  Against her better judgment, Anya agreed to accompany Sybil that evening to the famous American Red Cross Club at the corner of Shaftesbury Avenue and Piccadilly Circus. The busy footpaths and bright lights of the area evoked a strange beating of Anya’s heart, as though she was encountering another world she’d never even imagined.

  The blue bunting over the windows and the numerous red, white, and blue flags branded the corner building as distinctively American. Horns honked, buses sped by, and all around them people jostled one another as they made their way along the crowded footpaths.

  Anya tried to take it all in. “I can’t believe all this. Is it always this crowded?”

  Sybil laughed. “Oh, Anya! This is nothing. Imagine ten times as many people, most of them in uniform, all trying to get through these doors. Probably more like twenty times as many.”

  Even from outside, Anya could hear music pulsing through the lobby. Big band, they called it, and she finally understood why everyone loved it so. She was disappointed to find the music originating from a gramophone piped through the club’s public address system. She’d never seen a live swing band, though Danny had talked about them. Still, several couples danced to the raucous beat making the most audacious moves she’d ever seen.

  “It’s called the jitterbug. Isn’t it great?” Sybil shouted, giggling at the silly expression on Anya’s face.

  “I’ve never seen dancing like that before.”

  “You should have a go! Let’s find you a dance partner‌—‌”

  “No!” she cried, grabbing Sybil’s arm. “I wouldn’t dare. I’ve never danced before!”

  Sybil stopped in her tracks. “You’ve never danced? Not ever?”

  Anya shook her head. “No. And I’m not going to dance with anyone but Danny.”

  Sybil grinned as she gave in. “Well, I suppose I see your point. Then come with me. I’ll give you a tour.”

  She followed Sybil through the crowded halls, surprised so many Americans were still in London. She wondered what it must have been like before the war ended. In a corner on one of the floors, she saw what looked like a shooting gallery with Adolf Hitler’s face as the target. A long row of machines banked one entire wall, most of them attended by clusters of men in uni
form.

  “Pinball machines,” Sybil explained as they passed by. “Like arcade games. Very popular in America. And over there, you see the billiard tables which are also extremely popular.”

  Overhead, Anya noticed strings of triangular flags in red, white, and blue crisscrossing the rooms. She followed Sybil to an upper floor designated for hobbies. “They can draw, paint, and sculpt‌—‌all sorts of artwork, as you can see. Seems terribly deserted now, but not long ago it was positively bustling with Yanks. Many of the pictures you see on the walls of the club were painted right here in this room. Scenes from home and images from the war‌—‌like that one there of planes flying in formation. It’s a creative outlet for them.”

  On another floor, they peeked into rooms with rows upon rows of beds provided for those on leave. “Most of the time, we’d be at capacity and have to provide cots for the boys to sleep in nearby bomb shelters.”

  Anya couldn’t imagine it. “You mean all of these beds were filled?”

  “Oh my yes. We often had more than 25,000 visitors a day, so we couldn’t possibly provide enough beds for all of them.”

  Sybil shared a steady stream of memories about the club in its heyday, conjuring up all kinds of images in Anya’s mind. She showed her the large and cozy library filled with books and stacks upon stacks of newspapers. “Those hometown newspapers were the lifeline for a lot of the boys. See how wrinkled they are? The boys would devour them.”

  Sybil explained the various roles of the Red Cross volunteers, from helping the Yanks write home, to sewing buttons on uniforms, providing first aid, or arranging sightseeing tours of London. All sorts of services.

  “And of course, the dancing! There were times you could hardly move on that dance floor, it was so crowded.”

  “Must have been a lot of fun for you and the other girls meeting so many Americans.” So different from her war years back home.