Beyond the Shadow of War (17 page)

18

Along with the departure of the 390th and the vacuum of utter silence left in its wake, came a more sobering reality. Major Samford, no doubt halfway home by now, had gladly rid himself of Anya’s “situation.” With the base shutting down, all future contacts regarding her status as a war bride would be handled by the American Embassy in London. Just as well, since he’d made it abundantly clear that she and the other local war brides were no longer his problem. Still, having no one there in town to cut through what he called “miles of red tape” frustrated her beyond words.

Her last meeting with him had not gone well.

“Mrs. McClain, you don’t seem to understand. And quite frankly, with as many visits as you’ve made here over the past weeks, I would’ve thought you would accept the fact that I can only do so much since you are not British. It’s hard enough getting the forms filed for all these local gold diggers. The fact that you’re Dutch makes it‌—‌”

“Excuse me, what do you mean by ‘gold diggers’? I’m not familiar with these words.”

He busied himself, focusing on the messy stack of papers on his desk. “It’s just an expression. Nothing more.”

“Yes, I assumed so. But what does it mean?” she asked again, her words slow and measured as if speaking to a child.

He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “It’s what we call the English girls who want a free ticket to America. We’ve all met their kind. They’re a dime a dozen. They chat up some lonely GI, convince him to marry them‌—‌maybe even pop out a kid or two‌—‌just so they can escape this war-ravaged country with a free pass courtesy of Uncle Sam.”

Anya dismissed the mention of this relative called Sam and stood abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor behind her. “How
dare
you. What a despicable thing to say! Do you have any idea what it’s been like for those of us whose homelands have been practically destroyed by war? Do you? Have you even been on the battlefield, Major? Have you lived through the horrors we have experienced? Of course not because you sit here in your comfortable office, shuffling papers and acting like some kind of god making judgment on people you know nothing about, choosing who will go and who will‌—‌”

“Look, Mrs. McClain‌—‌”

“I am not finished! Do you think I like having to crawl in here week after week, begging you for a chance to somehow, some way put me on one of those ships to America, and all the while wondering why it is you don’t seem to have even a trace of understanding of what it’s been like for people like me? Do you think I
like
having to pin my every hope for a chance to see my husband again on the likes of you and all your mightier-than-thou arrogance when all the while‌—‌”

She stopped abruptly, her heart racing and eyes prickling, as she suddenly realized her mistake. Losing her temper and mouthing off to him could destroy any chance of passage to America.

What have I done? What have I done!

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before risking a glance.

He yanked off his glasses with a dramatic flair and pinched the bridge of his nose.

She lowered her head and tried to slow the beating of her heart. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.”

He eased his glasses back on, once again refusing to look up from his work. “Look, I’ve done all that I can. From here on, you’re the embassy’s problem, not mine. As you can see, we’re packing up to leave, so if you don’t mind, I have a mountain of paperwork to sift through before we go.”

She waited, watching him scribble notes on a paper as he dismissed her. Without saying another word, she left the room.

Just outside the door, a young corporal put a finger to his lips then motioned silently, inviting her to follow him around the corner. She recognized him as Samford’s assistant who manned the desk outside the major’s office. He showed her into a vacant office then quietly closed the door.

“Ma’am, I couldn’t help but overhear what you just said to Major Samford in there‌—‌”

“I’m terribly sorry. I was totally out of line and should never have‌—‌”

“No! That’s why I wanted to speak to you. I’ve had to work with him for two long years, ma’am, and I’ve wanted to chew him out pretty much every single day. Course, if I did, I would’ve been court-marshaled and sent to the brig for the rest of my life.” His face warmed to a lopsided smile as he held his hand out to her. “I just wanted to thank you. It was a real pleasure hearing what you just said to him. And he sure deserved to hear it.”

She shook his hand though still concerned. “Yes, but don’t you see? He’ll never put my name on that manifest now. For all I know, my file has already been tossed in his trash bin, never to be seen again.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” he said with the same goofy smile as he folded his arms confidently across his chest. “Major Samford thinks he runs the show, but fact is, nothing happens here unless
I
send the paperwork through.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Ma’am, I’m sure it’s all very confusing, but let’s just say an officer like the major is only as good as the corporal who does all his grunt work. He’ll hand those files over to me today to send to the American Embassy in London. And I feel it is my duty as a patriot to make sure
your
file is at the top of that pile. The way I see it, once Lieutenant McClain flew back to the States, Samford took a disliking to you. And just so you know, that’s got nothing to do with you, but everything to do with his high opinion of himself. You were right when you said what you did. He thinks he’s more powerful than the Almighty, if you know what I mean. And for whatever reason, he decided to give you a hard time.”

“But what did I do to make him dislike me so? I’ve made every effort to be as polite as possible in all my encounters with him. Well, until today.”

“Absolutely. But the fact that you’ve stopped by here almost every day could in itself be the problem. I’m guessing he just got tired of being bothered. Which, no doubt, was how he perceived all your visits.”

She blew out a slow breath, hoping the young corporal was right. She looked at his shock of red hair, the freckles across his nose, and eyes the color of a springtime sky back home, and knew she could trust him. “You really think you can do what you said? Put my file on top?”

“Not a problem. He’ll never see it again after he hands it over.”

“I can’t thank you enough, Corporal‌—‌”

“Werthan. Corporal Christopher Werthan. But heck, I’m the one who should be thanking
you
, Mrs. McClain. Besides, I always liked your husband. A lot of flyboy officers who pass through here think they’re too good to be nice to someone of lower rank like me. Lieutenant McClain was always respectful, always said a kind word after returning my salute.”

“That’s nice to hear. I’ll be sure and tell him how helpful you’ve been.”

“Good, and I hope you can tell him in person real soon. You don’t worry, Mrs. McClain. I’ll make sure you get on one of the first ships that sail for America.”

She held out her hand for a shake, her voice graveled. “Thank you, Corporal. Thank you so much.”

He gave her a firm handshake in return. “My pleasure, ma’am.”

Something changed. She had felt it almost immediately as she began her walk back to the pub. A renewed sense of hope lightened her step. Finally‌—‌
finally
‌—‌someone had taken her seriously. Someone who could do what needed to be done to send her to America.

Walking along the long, dusty road back to town, Anya made a decision. Telling off Samford had felt good.
So
very good. And even though she’d been terrified, thinking she blew it, she had to admit it felt good to stand on her own two feet again. It felt familiar. Like the Anya of old, straightening her backbone, and speaking up for herself, no longer intimidated. If she could master her blasted emotions before crossing the ocean, she might actually make it to Chicago, America and have a genuine chance for a good life with Danny.

No more tears. No more gloomy thoughts. No more sadness.

When she entered the pub, Patrick called to her from behind the bar. “Ah, Anya, I’m glad you’re here. A letter just came in the post for you. From America!”

She rushed behind the bar, snatched the letter from his hand, and planted a kiss on his rosy cheek.

“Well then, off you go up to your room. I know you’ll be wanting to read your letter.”

“Thank you, Patrick!” she called, already halfway up the stairs.

She tossed her things on the dresser and stretched out on the bed, opening the envelope. Only then did she realize the handwriting wasn’t Danny’s.

My dearest Anya,

It seems I’ve known you for years, even though I’ve never had the honor of meeting you in person. It’s been many years now, but I still remember the joy of finding your letters in our mailbox because I knew how much Danny cherished them. I always had a smile on my face when I left them on his pillow. It seems so long ago, doesn’t it? In many ways, a lifetime.

And now, here we are, all these years later, and we’re family! How I would have loved to have been there for your wedding. I know I would have cried buckets of tears
‌—‌
all of them happy, I assure you.

Dear Anya, we are
so
excited that you’ll be joining us soon! Danny knows I’m praying for you, asking God to clear the path of any obstacles that would hinder you from coming. I have prayed for you these many years. What a joy it shall be to finally welcome you into our arms, our home, our lives.

Until then, be well and know that we are counting the minutes until you arrive.

With all my love,

Mother McClain

Anya set the letter aside, trying to imagine what Danny’s mother looked like. What did her voice sound like? How did she react to Danny’s father and his many tirades? Try as she might, she couldn’t quite imagine what her life would be like living with these people. Would Mr. McClain be aloof toward her? Would he grumble in her presence or make her feel like an intruder? Would Joey and Millie accept her? Would the house be crowded with all of them living under one roof?

She blew a strand of hair off her forehead and tried to stop the litany of questions and doubts. Where was that new resolve she’d just made on her way back to the pub?

Anya closed her eyes, doing her best to let it all go. Moments later, she read Mrs. McClain’s letter again. There, toward the end, the words she’d skimmed over the first time practically leaped off the page at her …
I’m praying for you, asking God to clear the path of any obstacles that would hinder you from coming.

Her biggest obstacle? That was easy. Major Samford’s indifferent shrug filled the picture screen in her mind. Then, in a blink of the eye, that image was replaced by the kind, lopsided grin of Corporal Werthan.

Could it be? Was it possible God just answered Betty McClain’s prayer for her path to be cleared of any obstacle?

Goose bumps pebbled across her skin as she tried to grasp the significance of what just happened. Something strangely familiar chased those goose bumps away, though she wasn’t ready to acknowledge anything‌—‌or
Anyone
‌—‌just yet.

18 August 1945 

Sioux Falls, South Dakota 

Dear Anya,

Greetings from Sioux Falls, South Dakota! Couldn’t believe my leave was already over last Friday. Sure went fast. I had to report to Camp Grant to board a troop train headed for South Dakota. Mass chaos seems to be the order of the day with all the rumors following Japan’s surrender earlier this week. I’m not sure what to make of the atomic bomb situation. Like everyone else, I’m thrilled the war with Japan is finally over, but concerned about this new bomb and its potential if it ever got into the wrong hands. I sure hope President Truman knows what he’s doing.

Regardless, I still had to report for duty. There are thousands of us here, and no one seems to know what to do with all of us. We’re on pins and needles wondering when we’ll be able to go home for good. They have to discharge us at some point, but right now it’s just a guessing game. There are all sorts of betting pools on what day the war would be declared over and what time of day it would be announced, when we might be discharged, and a thousand other fodder for gamblers. What else are a bunch of restless soldiers going to do?