by Diane Moody
“Sybil?”
“Yes. Do you think you might be able to stay with her for a while? I’d rather you stay with us, but Sergeant Ketner is right. You’re in danger here.”
“Who is this Sybil?” Ketner asked.
“She’s an English girl who also married an American,” Charlie answered.
“I suppose I could,” Anya said. “She and her friends have invited me to live with them until we sail for America.”
“Well, then,” Ketner said, on his feet again. “I suggest you talk with these young women and see what kind of arrangements you might make.
Both Anya and Charlie stood. “Yes, I’ll call Sybil today,” Anya said.
“Excellent.” Ketner extended his hand first to Charlie, then to Anya. “And might I add, sooner rather than later?”
Charlie snapped his fingers as they turned to go. “I almost forgot. Anya, could you give us a moment? There’s something I need to discuss with Sergeant Ketner.”
“Of course,” she said.
“Good. I’ll join you shortly.”
Anya walked gingerly, stiff after sitting so long. Ketner’s assistant asked if she needed anything, but she declined. “I’d like to stretch my legs a bit. I’ll be out in the hall.”
She’d made three slow loops up and down the hall when Charlie reappeared, his face quite serious.
“Anya, there’s someone who needs to speak to you.”
“What? Who?” Her heart sputtered as she returned to Ketner’s office.
The sergeant held the receiver out toward her with the slightest hint of a smile on his face. She was still puzzled by his expression when she held the phone to her ear.
“Hello?”
“Anya? Is that you?”
“Danny?”
“Yes, sweetheart! It’s me! Oh honey, I miss you so much! How are you?”
“But how did—”
“Charlie put a call through with the help of someone named Ketner. He didn’t tell me who that is, but I’m assuming he’s a local friend there. Oh Anya, I can’t believe we’re finally talking!”
She stood speechless as Charlie and Ketner left the room, both wearing wide smiles.
“Anya, are you still there?”
“Yes, yes I’m here! I just can’t believe it’s you! Oh Danny, I’m so sorry …” She held her hand over the receiver, not wanting him to hear the emotion in her voice.
“Sweetheart, there’s nothing to be sorry for. If anyone should apologize, it’s me. I should never have left you there. I should have stayed and figured out some way for both of us to travel back here together.”
She took a calming breath and tried to steady her voice. “No, it’s not your fault. It isn’t.”
“I’ve even contacted some of our congressmen, trying to get assistance to speed up the process, but I’ve been told there’s nothing they can do. Then I tried to get a visa to come back over—lots of GIs with wives over there have tried. But the Brits are adamantly against it, since they’re still recovering from the war. I guess they’re afraid we’ll take up all the housing or be a burden. I don’t know, but I wanted you to know I tried.”
“But I just don’t understand why it’s all taking so long. No one tells us anything.”
“I know, honey, and I’m frustrated just like you are. I’ve read some articles in Stars and Stripes about the plight of all you war brides. Basically, there’s been an outcry from folks concerned that so many of our GIs in Europe and the Pacific are still waiting for transport back to the States. They don’t think it’s fair for any ships to be used to bring you brides over here until all the soldiers are home first. Quite a heated debate, apparently.”
Anya sighed. “I suppose I understand their concerns. But that means it could be next year before they’ll let us sail.”
“I know, sweetheart, but we just have to be patient. Oh, I can’t believe I’m finally hearing your voice! How are you? Charlie said you’d had a rough couple of days, but didn’t say why. Is everything okay?”
She wouldn’t worry him, and she wasn’t about to spoil these precious few moments together. “Yes, I’m all right. I think I’m going to move to London and wait it out with Sybil. Since we still don’t know when we might go, I’d hate to be up here in Framlingham and risk missing the call when the time comes. She’s been offering for me to stay with her, so I believe I will.”
“Really? I’m sure Sophie and Charlie will hate to see you go.”
“I know, and I’ll miss them too, but I think it’s for the best. But enough of all that. How are you? How is your family?”
“We’re all doing fine. Little Jimmy is growing like a weed. I can’t wait for you to meet him. And everyone else, too. They all send their love.”
“That’s very kind. Please give them mine.”
“Absolutely! Oh, honey, I could talk to you all day and it would never be enough.”
“I would love that. More than you know. Sometimes I wonder if I haven’t just imagined you. That we never actually met and certainly didn’t marry.”
“Well, be assured that we both met AND married! Mom is praying you’ll be home in time for Christmas, and you know how dependable her prayers are.”
“I hope she’s right.”
“Me, too. You’re all I think about. All day, every day. I love you with all my heart. So come home to me. Actually, today would be good. Or tomorrow, if that’s convenient for—”
The line went dead.
“Danny?” Nothing. She pressed the button several times. “Danny, are you there? Danny? Can you hear me?”
Nothing.
She slowly placed the receiver back on its cradle and closed her eyes, cherishing the sound of his voice in her mind. Oh, how she’d missed it. She couldn’t help the smile on her face as his words played over and over in her mind.
You’re all I think about. All day, every day. I love you with all my heart. So come home to me.
“I love you too, Danny. With all my heart.”
Part III
26
3 October 1945
Chicago, Illinois
Dear Anya,
I didn’t think to ask for your mailing address in London, so I’m sending this to the pub so Charlie and Sophie can forward it to you.
I still can’t believe we got to talk on the telephone the other day! After so long, it almost felt like we were those kids again who used to write each other before the war, halfway around the world. The sound of your voice was the best possible medicine, because I’ve been lovesick for you ever since we parted. Boy, does that ever sound corny. But it’s true, Anya. It’s like I’m only half a person without you. Isn’t that such a strange thought? To think that not so long ago, I had no idea how much another person could affect every single part of my life, and how your absence would leave such a gaping hole in my heart. I’m not making any sense, I suppose. Just know that I miss you more than I ever imagined possible, and hearing your voice the other day was the sweetest sound I’ve heard in all the time we’ve been apart.
Now, I know this isn’t one of your favorite subjects, but you’ll have to bear with me here and let me tell you anyway …
THE CUBS WON THE PENNANT!!!
WE’RE IN THE WORLD SERIES!!!
They played a three-game series in Pittsburg last weekend, and clinched the pennant after winning the first game 4-3! They won the other two games against Pittsburgh, and took an overnight train back here to Chicago. Joey and I joined a huge crowd of fans welcoming them home the next morning. You should have seen them, Anya. The team, manager Charley Grimm, the fans—everyone was shouting and singing and cheering! Wish you could have been with us!
We’ll be playing the Detroit Tigers in the World Series, with the first game tonight in Detroit. Joey talked Dad into broadcasting the radio feed through the speakers at the theater, so we’ve been spreading the word. Free admission and we’re offering half-off on all the concessions. We can’t wait!
The only thing that would make it better? If YOU were here to join in the fun! I promise you would enjoy it!
Well, my train is about to reach the campus, so I’ll close. The game starts at 2:10 this afternoon, so I’m skipping my last class to help Joey and Dad at the theater. Thanks for letting me have a little fun sharing the excitement with you. I’m determined to make you a Cubs fan if it’s the last thing I do!
All my love,
Danny
When his European Civilization class ended, Danny dashed from the classroom building and raced for the train station. He stretched his arm through the closing door of the Red Line and squeezed through just in time. As the car jolted its start down the track, he found himself packed like a sardine with other Northwestern students, all of them excited about the game with rowdy conversations and contagious camaraderie.
When the car took its usual curve around the first bend, Danny reached for one of the leather straps to steady his balance. Someone else grabbed it at the same moment.
“Sorry,” he said, turning to make his apology. To his surprise, he found Beverly looking up at him.
“Hello, Danny.”
“Sorry, I didn’t—”
“Let me guess. You’re rushing home to listen to the game?”
“You guessed right. Well, I mean, no, I’m not going home. I’m headed to the theater. We’re hosting a radio broadcast of the game. How about you? I assume you’re still a Cubs fan?”
She just smiled, staring at him with those familiar hazel eyes. He could feel his face warming, so ducked his eyes for a glimpse out the window.
“Once a Cubs fan, always a Cubs fan,” she said. “Isn’t that what you used to say?”
He chuckled. “Something like that.”
“I’m meeting some friends for a party while the game’s on. Snacks, drinks. The usual.”
A couple of moments passed. Then a couple more. Odd, how uncomfortable a few minutes could be, even on a crowded train. Then again, they had history.
“Any news from your wife?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. We finally had a chance to talk by telephone last Friday.”
“Was that the first time you’ve talked to her since you’ve been home?”
“Yes, I’ve tried several times but could never get through. It sure was nice to hear her voice again.”
“Any idea when she’ll be coming?”
He told her what little he knew, thankful to have a chance to talk about Anya. He wasn’t sure if she had asked just to be polite, or if she was interested. Regardless, after a brief recap of the situation, he didn’t know what else to say.
She looked away for a moment, then changed the subject again. “Well, we’ve got to be pretty darn proud of our Cubs. I still can’t believe we’re finally in the World Series again, can you?”
“No, it still feels too good to be true.”
“Did you hear what happened to the players’ wives when they arrived in Detroit Monday night?”
“No.”
“It was on the radio this morning. It seems all the wives were to be lodged on a passenger ship called the Greater Detroit that was docked at the harbor. But when the wives checked in on Monday night, they were furious because the rooms were tiny and rather tacky, according to some. They suspected it was intentional on the part of the Tigers, so they staged some kind of revolt that lasted several hours. They even woke up Grimm and the league’s travel secretary to sort it all out. At two in the morning yesterday, they were taken to one of the hotels where members of the team were staying.”
“Somebody’s head will roll for that snafu. Wouldn’t want to be that guy.”
They chatted about the team and the season as a whole, even shouting a few times to hear each other when the other riders grew boisterous. Arriving at his stop, he said goodbye and made his exit. As he walked several blocks to the theater, he went over their conversation, wishing he hadn’t run into her again. He didn’t like the uneasy feeling nibbling at his heart, and he wondered how long it would take before he could see her and not feel so awkward.
He also decided not to mention it to Anya.
The packed crowd at the Windsor Park Theater almost cheered the roof off as their beloved Cubs scored four runs in the first inning in the first game. Despite the raw, frigid weather hovering over Detroit’s Briggs Stadium, the Cubs’ bats were smoking hot. No one was more surprised than Detroit’s ace pitcher Hal Newhouser, the leading hurler who’d dominated the American League during the war years. By halfway through the third inning, after giving up three more runs by the Cubs, he was done. Even over the airwaves, the silence of the stunned Detroit fans made for an eerie hush behind Bert Wilson’s elated commentary.
The Cubs’ new star pitcher Hank Borowy got off to a rough start as well, but soon found his rhythm. The recently acquired pitcher from the Yankees had joined the Cubs in late July, and already proved worthy of every penny spent on his contract, delivering eleven out of the last thirteen games of the regular season. And he certainly brought his game to the World Series, going the distance with a six-hit shutout. Outfielder Bill Nicholson’s bat helped run up the score with a single and a triple, driving in three runs. Then in the seventh, first baseman Phil Cavarretta iced the cake with a sweet line shot deep into the right-field bleachers, the first home run of the series. The Cubs won 9-0, celebrating their win in the mostly hushed Detroit stadium.
The event at Windsor Park Theater was such a success, Joey and his father agreed to broadcast the two remaining games played in Detroit. Danny had never seen his father so relaxed, even showing a rare smile when the Cubs won so handily. The fans lingered longer than expected, ringing the cash register from start to finish and depleting the theater’s supply of popcorn and sodas. That evening, at the showing of the feature film, When Our Hearts Were Young & Gay, patrons didn’t even complain about the lack of concessions. They were too jubilant about their Cubs’ win!
The following day, Detroit showed more of their true colors with the return of right-hander Virgil Trucks on the mound for Game 2. Trucks had been discharged from the navy just two weeks prior, missing the last two seasons while serving overseas. He silenced the Cubs’ bats, giving up only seven hits. Unfortunately, Cubs pitcher Hank Wyse struggled through the first six innings, giving up four runs, including a three-run homer by Hammerin’ Hank Greenberg in the fifth. Cubs relief pitcher Paul Erickson halted the Tigers scoring, but the damage was already done. Detroit won 4-1. The series was tied.
On Friday, Cubs right-hander Claude Passeau pitched the best game in the entire history of the World Series, allowing only one hit and no runs—a shutout, winning 3-0. The crowd at the Windsor Park Theater went berserk, still whooping and hollering when they left hours later, eager to welcome their Cubs home to Chicago for Game 4.
27
6 October 1945
Chicago, Illinois
On Saturday morning, Danny joined his parents in the kitchen. Dad sat hidden behind the Chicago Times as usual, while his mother stood at the stove preparing breakfast. As she scrambled eggs in the skillet, Danny said good morning, kissed her cheek, then poured himself a cup of coffee.
“Have I mentioned lately how nice it is to have real eggs again?”
She chuckled. “Only every morning.”
“If there’s one thing the war taught me, it’s an appreciation for all the little things I used to take for granted. Like real eggs and good coffee. I sure missed your cooking, Mom.”
“And I sure missed cooking for you.” She scraped the eggs onto a serving platter alongside a stack of crisp bacon and set it on the table beside a basket of piping-hot biscuits. “What time are you and Joey leaving for the game?”
“Be sure to dress warm,” mumbled the voice behind the Times. “Forecast is for cold and damp through most of the day. Chance of rain.”
“Wouldn’t you know it? First home game of the series, and the weather’s gonna be nasty. To answer your question, Mom, I’m not sure
yet when we’ll leave. Probably a couple hours before the game starts.”
Joey walked in with little Jimmy held snug against his chest. “Game? What game?”
“Good morning, honey,” Betty said, reaching for Jimmy. “And how’s my sweet grandson this morning?” Jimmy cooed as she kissed his rosy cheek then cradled him in her arms. She took her seat at the kitchen table beside Frank.
The wall of newspaper came down with the arrival of his grandson. “Well, hi there, little fella.” He patted Jimmy gently on his head as grandfather and baby shared a sweet smile.
Joey shot Danny a wink, acknowledging this new softer side of their father.
“He’s full of vim and vigor, that’s for sure,” Joey said. “I thought I’d let Millie sleep in. She was up with him around three this morning. It’s the least I can do since I’ll be gone all afternoon.”
“What time do you want to leave?” Danny asked.
“Funny you should ask. I don’t know if you heard the telephone ring earlier, but Marv Clancy called to make sure we’re coming plenty early.”
“I still can’t believe he’s giving us those tickets. He could make a fortune selling them.”
“Not if Mr. Wrigley has anything to do with it,” Betty said. She pointed to the Times headline, “We’re Burned Up, Too.”
“The paper says Mr. Wrigley didn’t go to Detroit for the first three games just so he could stay here and answer all the letters complaining about the ticket situation. Can you imagine? The owner of the Cubs missed the first three games of the series! I still don’t know why it’s legal for folks to scalp tickets. Mr. Wrigley is furious about it.”
“He may be,” Frank said, “but there’s not a lot he can do about it now. Another article stated that twenty-five IRS goons will be out and about today checking on scalpers to make sure they’re paying taxes on their ticket sales. If not, they’ll press charges.”
“What a mess,” Betty said.
“I’m just glad Marv has such a big heart,” Joey said. “I didn’t realize these were his season tickets.”