Chapter One
January 17, 1973
Kokomo, Indiana
The phone’s jangle bellowed at Tracy Callahan as she shoved her key into the front door’s lock. “Coming!” It had to be Danny. He must have heard the news too.
She dropped her purse inside on the floor and bolted for the still ringing phone, swiping it up in time to shout in unison with the caller.
“It’s over!”
They shared the laugh as elation about the news made her want to dance along with the joy bubbles bursting inside her.
President Nixon declared the war in Viet Nam over.
“When did you hear?” Danny sounded as breathless as she felt.
“On the car radio. I raced home to phone you.” She put her free hand over her heart and melted onto the closest kitchen chair. “When did you?”
“Must have been the same broadcast. I decided I’d keep ringing until you answered.” He got quiet before his voice whispered, awestruck, “It’s over.”
“Praise God.”
“Yeah. Praise God.” He paused again. “I’m not sure what to do. Sort of like coming downstairs at Christmas to a decorated tree without personal gifts. No idea what I thought would change.”
“Lives. Lives are changed. No more boys getting drafted for over there. I’ve got an idea of what that woman and sailor in the middle of Times Square experienced back in ‘45.” Then Tracy realized what she’d said. Oops. Would he read more into it?
“Are you saying you’d kiss me if I was there with you?” His voice brimmed with teasing. Thank goodness.
She moved the cross on the chain at her neck back and forth. “I guess. If you really want me to. Maybe if you were in the Navy and I was a Wave?”
“Don’t get too excited.”
Tracy chuckled. “Fine, I won’t. So, tell me about your day—from before the big news.”
As he did, it struck her how funny it was that they both shared humor and deep gratefulness, the small and big happenings in their lives.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so strange if they’d ever met each other.
But they hadn’t.
Tracy knew exactly what Danny looked like. Her roommate, his sister Sue Mitchell, had family photos in their living room. He was definitely hot, in a Robert Redford kind of way.
But their friendship brought something deeper.
He probably knew more about her than even Sue, who was Tracy’s best friend.
Normally that would cause some sort of defense. But with the telephone their only means of communication, she never worried about things getting out of hand. She remained safe. And, as such, so did he.
It made for the best kind of relationship.
“Okay, your turn. Tell me about work. Did you finally let your boss see your design book?”
He had to ask. Drat. “No. We got too busy. Paula called in sick, so I had to cover both the gift shop and the scheduled tour. Glad only one field trip made on the calendar.”
“So, you chickened out.”
She grasped her cross again. “Hey… Okay, maybe. I’m just not ready. I promise I’ll show him. Someday.” Tracy had a degree in art and had moved to town purposely to work at Kokomo Opalescent Glass. World renowned for their blown and stained-glass features, even Tiffany and Company ordered from them.
“You can do it. I won’t press, but I have to encourage you.”
“You’ve never seen any of my designs. Why are you so sure?”
Danny’s pause gave Tracy a weird tingling. “Um, Sue showed me?”
“When?” Her sketchbook remained always with her.
“It was something you’d thrown in the trash. Neither of us understood why you tossed it away. It was… Okay, I’m no art critic, but I thought it was outstanding.”
Something she’d thrown in the trash?
Then she remembered. “I’d spilled on the page. It really was garbage. She put it back, right?”
Danny cleared his throat. “I can’t believe you didn’t try to save it.”
“Not with a splotch of spaghetti on it. Don’t tell me you have it.”
“We need a new subject. Who is your latest celebrity customer?”
So pitiful. But Tracy decided not to pursue the thought that he had possession of a piece of her art, as messed up as it was, since it sent a funny flutter to her stomach.
Fine, she’d go with the new line of conversation. “This isn’t for sure because I haven’t seen an actual sales receipt, but Don hinted that the window he’s working on is for Paul Newman’s house. It’s a lone cowboy on his horse in the center, and a range of mountains under an evening sky. Or morning sky, I guess. Anyway, it’s gorgeous, no matter who’s getting it.”
“Sounds like it.”
A wistfulness permeated his pause. Tracy felt it, and with all the phone calls over the last seven months she’d become an expert at reading his silences. If only she could find a way to show him the studio. But that would mean meeting each other. Which would ruin everything.
“How’s your sister doing?” He always remembered to ask.
“She’s home. No idea for how long, but the parents are cautiously optimistic.” Tracy should be too, but she’d seen that shoe drop at the worst times before.
“Good. I’ll keep praying about it.”
Here Danny’d never met Robin and yet he remembered her in his prayers. The guilt of slacking off regarding her sister’s issues—being in a different town and not praying as much since “out of sight” meant “out of mind”—sort of let the air out of the big news. “Thanks.” What else should she say? “How’s your dad doing? Sue’s been too busy to keep me up to date.”
“He’s doing great. Been working out with me though at an easier level. But it’s good to do it together. Between that and the fact he really watches what he eats, he’s lost about twenty pounds now. Plus, only allowing himself one beer on Saturdays. Means more money in his pocket too, so his mood tank is like it’s stuck on full of cheer.” He chuckled.
Honestly, Tracy couldn’t be happier for Danny. And especially Sue. Life before their dad’s heart attack went beyond sad. “So, your dad works out with you? Tell me about your routine.”
He hemmed and hawed.
“Aw, c’mon. You and I’ve shared too much already for you to hold back now.”
Danny’s sigh clearly came through the speaker. “Fine. We’ve got a bench and some barbells. And before you ask, I’m pressing 165 on my best days.”
“Who says I was going to? So, is that good?”
They both chuckled.
“Yeah, fairly, though I need to keep my strength up. Dad’s up to fifty-five pounds. We’re taking it slow and trying not to do anything stupid. But if he keeps losing weight, I’ll be able to bench press him.”
The front door opened. “What are your keys doing in the lock? You realize anyone could just walk on in?”
“I need to go. Sue’s home.” Tracy paused. “Do you want to talk to her?”
“Yeah, sure. Let me tell her, you know, just in case.”
“Okay.” She turned to her roommate. “Thanks for bringing in my keys. And before you lecture, it’s Danny.” Tracy held out the receiver and stepped away so they could talk in peace.
Hmm. Peace.
A beautiful word.
But once they got onto other topics, the glittering lights of the announcement seemed to dim.
“No, I hadn’t. That’s wonderful, Danny. Yes. Praise God!” Was Sue crying?
Tracy picked up her purse and headed for her bedroom, leaving her door open so Sue would see it was okay to come in when she hung up.
The whole idea of peace finally arriving had lit off bottle rockets inside her when the DJ stopped the record to make his announcement. She couldn’t get home fast enough to call Danny, despite the higher long-distance rate.
And now?
Something sobering wrapped around her like a blanket.
She’d prayed for this day more times than she could count. For years. Literally. Now here it shouted from her calendar, “I’m here!” Her hand went to the metal bracelet she wore with James H. McLean’s name inscribed. Still MIA after seven years.
Danny’s description of a decked-out Christmas tree with no presents made sense. Yes, there’d be no need for boys getting drafted at this point. But it couldn’t bring any of the dead or missing back. It didn’t restore limbs or minds or families.
So, what did it really mean? Besides, no more draft.
President Nixon maintained the goal of “Peace with honor.” The protesters didn’t give a rip about the honor part. Just stop the war. What would they protest now?
Tracy grabbed her sketchbook. Somehow, when her brain couldn’t figure things out, her fingers would do it through her pencil. She let the graphite outline and shadow until an image itched to break through.
Danny.
Sitting, gazing out at something she had yet to draw.
When she realized who appeared, funny flutters returned to her stomach. Why had she—
“No wonder you left your keys in the door.”
Tracy slammed her book shut and focused on her friend.
“That’s amazing. No more war. The guys will be coming home.” Sue continued without noticing and fell back on Tracy’s bed. “I called Mac while I was there at the phone. He hadn’t heard. I can’t decide whether to laugh or cry.” She turned to Tracy, tears appearing in the corners of her eyes.
“Me either. It’s surreal, like being in a Salvador Dali painting.”
“Yeah. Or a Twilight Zone episode.”
Tracy shivered. “Don’t go there. That show creeped me out. Especially the ‘How to Serve Man’ episode. Eww!”
Her roomie giggled. “I agree. Talk about chilling. Still, this could be closure for Danny. I still thank God that he’s as well-adjusted as he is.”
Tracy glanced Sue’s way. Her friend had no clue. But it wasn’t her job to burst that bubble, especially after this news.
Sue sat up. “We need to celebrate, though. How about we bring extra goodies for the girls in our class?”
“Hmm. Since you’re making the big bucks, I think they might like that.” Tracy popped up and set her sketch book on her dresser. “What are we bringing, O Generous One?”
“Let’s not get crazy. How about a pie or two from Krieg’s? We’ll have to move fast to make it to church for dinner on time.” Sue glanced at her watch.
“Sure. Great idea. Give me five minutes to touch up my face and hair and I’ll meet you in the living room.”
“Deal.” Sue strode to the door but turned back. “It feels good, you know, but something’s anticlimactic about it.”
“Danny said the same thing.”
“As wonderful as the news is, too much won’t be—or can’t be changed. There’s the melancholy side of the coin. Too many families where the announcement came too late.”
Tracy pulled Sue into a hug. “It’s not too late for you. In fact, you beat it to the punch. You and Mac are doing great.”
“Thanks.” Sue drew back.
“What did he say when you told him?”
Sue smiled, and Tracy could almost read his words in her friend’s eyes. “Mac said, ‘It’s about time.’”
“He’s right, you know.”
Sue nodded. “I’ll meet you out here.” She closed the door behind her.
Tracy pulled out her hairbrush and stared at the woman reflected in her mirror. Had this news that was sure to be explored by all three channels tonight really touched her and her life? The only ones she knew affected by the war wouldn’t be changed as far as she could tell. They would still be the same people they were yesterday, just with a little closure.
Shouldn’t good news have some lasting effect?
Another question Tracy couldn’t answer.
***
Danny Mitchell hung up the phone, still unsure of what it all meant.
A fan of statistics, he could recite the rounded-off numbers for the major wars of the past one hundred years, plus the Civil War.
Just counting the Northern side, they cited over 200,000 deaths. In World War II, the worst of all—almost 300,000 died. World War I lost a little over 53,000, which didn’t sound so bad in comparison, but would have been extremely personal to those families.
Then came Viet Nam. His war that technically wasn’t a war. All the experts called it a conflict since Congress never made it official.
But Danny served there.
It was a war.
As grateful as he was not to be counted among the 46,000 plus and growing who gave the ultimate sacrifice, he still left too much of himself in those jungles.
Without his faith, he had no idea what or where he’d be. God pulled him back to the living side of the equation, and Danny thanked Him every day. He may not have the future he’d once dreamed of, but he did have one, and apparently a purpose, though some days he questioned that.
The phone rang and he swiped it up since he was still close. “Yeah?”
“It’s Mac. Sue just told me. I can’t even…”
“I hear ya. Man, wonder how the guys are taking it?” Danny needed to think beyond himself. It kept him sane and human.
“I thought the same thing. Should I call everyone and see about us meeting tonight?”
“Sure. Bring’em here. I’ll have my dad go get something to drink and a bag or two of chips.” When he pulled out his wallet, Danny found a couple of bills to cover the cost.
“Thanks, man. Just hoping this stays good news and doesn’t bring up bad vibes.”
“Yeah, me too. Okay, make it seven? Oughta give Dad time to get to the grocery and back.”
“Sure.”
There wasn’t a lot more to say that couldn’t wait for the group, so they signed off, and he went to find his father.
Dad agreed to go, something that six months ago would have nearly caused World War III. Another war God had ended. Yeah, Danny really had witnessed miracles. He needed that foremost in his thoughts, to help him focus on those around him. Not only would it keep his mind off of himself and his life changes, but it also gave him an opportunity to do some good.
Not a bad purpose.
Once Dad left, Danny headed towards his room for a clean shirt and—he got a whiff of himself—some Man-Power antiperspirant couldn’t hurt either. He shuddered. That’s what comes of hanging out at home all the time and not grabbing a shower today after his workout.
With his dad gone, a shower was out of the question, though the bathroom renovations his dad had accomplished so far made life better. Oh, well. He washed at the sink, sort of a helmet bath like he did in the Nam, and hoped the ads accurately backed up the antiperspirant’s name. At least it was just a bunch of guys coming.
Danny glimpsed himself in his mirror about then. When did he last shave? He rubbed his hand across his stubble. Day before yesterday. Great. He’d officially become a slob.
He couldn’t pinpoint a reason for letting himself go. In fact, if anything, he’d been working even harder on his routine, and his number of reps and pressed weight had both increased.
The army psychologist who he’d had to see before they allowed him to go home told him not taking pride in his appearance might be a sign of depression.
Was he depressed?
He definitely had reason for it. That is, if he was. Which he wasn’t. He decided.
Besides, hadn’t he just gotten word this morning from the VFW Magazine that they’d accepted his latest article? His biggest acceptance letter to date. That alone seemed reason enough to keep depression at bay.
He checked his Omega to see if he had time to shave and the memory of buying it flooded back. A Speedmaster Moonwatch Professional. He’d bought it at the PX when he got his first payroll upgrade for his sergeant’s stripes. Walked into the hut wanting to commemorate the moment and spotted the watch right off. Usually he ignored the higher priced, glitzy stuff for a more practical mode. But he wanted to celebrate. Danny plunked down the $185 and never thought twice.
When he woke in the hospital, he got it in his head that someone stole it until a nurse assured him it was in safe keeping. He wanted to believe her, but he still had doubts until they gave him his personal items when he shipped out. He’d slipped it back on his wrist, a reminder of what he still had.
And, yes, he had enough time.
He did his best to clean up, even running a comb through his shaggy mop and brushing his teeth. Between the fresh breath and the aftershave, his Man-Power might have a fighting chance.
The front door opened.
Danny came down the hall to see Dad returning with two big grocery bags. “Hey, don’t overdo. Hand them over and I’ll set them in the kitchen.”
“No babying me. You hate it when it’s done to you, ya know. So don’t dish it out if you can’t take it.”
“Fine, but I didn’t have a heart attack.”
Dad hmphed. “The doctor is pleased with my progress, and I’m not overdoing it, you old lady. So, get out of my way.”
“Yes, sir.” Danny saluted and chuckled.
Another peek at his watch said the guys would start showing up soon. “Want to join us tonight, Dad?”
“Me? Eh, my war wasn’t the same.”
“War is war.”
“I don’t know. There are different terrors. The only thing that’s the same is how inhuman a human can become. The methods are always changing while evil tries to improve on itself.”
Dad had said nothing like that before, and it hit him. His father understood. “So, join us. It might help the guys to get another perspective, that it isn’t all about the Nam.”
“Tell you what. I’ll think about it.”
He knew the rest of the thought, though. Dad would think about it and then decide to hibernate in his den. Somehow Danny had a feeling this would be good for his father and the Nam vets coming to the house. But then another curtain got pulled back a little in his head. What if seeing the guys, not knowing what to expect when they arrived, scared his dad? Maybe he was afraid of dealing with anything more?
Danny reached down into the low cupboard for a large bowl to pour the chips into. Dad had brought two big bags of Lays. That oughta suffice. The six-packs of Coke had already gone into the refrigerator. They wouldn’t be icy, but they’d be cold enough by the time everyone arrived.
He’d almost asked Dad to grab some Pabst Blue Ribbon, but some of the guys shouldn’t drink, and his old man didn’t need to have it calling him like before. Coca-Cola was fine.
Just as he glanced at his Omega again, someone knocked. He’d figured it was about that time.
Danny set the bowl of chips on his lap and wheeled himself to the living room, leaving them on the coffee table, before answering the door.
“Hey. Anything you need help with?” From Mac, the offer relayed only politeness, not a commentary on ability.
“Nah, got the chips in the living room and the guys can get their own drinks. Not a lot of options, but at least I won’t be mowing people down in the hall.” Danny grinned.
Mac understood, having a prosthesis of his own. He’d lost a foot, just above his ankle.
Danny lost both legs above his knees.
He chuckled when he recalled the first time they met. Sue dragged the poor dope with her to stop by the house and apparently never let on ahead of time. Danny spotted the beyond-uncomfortable anxiety the guy tried to control, only he chalked it up to basic human stumbling into a situation unprepared. It wasn’t until later he learned about Mac’s war wound and how he was fighting flashbacks while Danny tried to make him more uncomfortable.
Yeah, he could be a real jerk sometimes.
But ever since they’d started this support group, they’d become better friends, and Danny’s view of the world had pivoted to more outer-focused than inner.
Another knock sounded, and Danny welcomed Spencer and Josh, letting them in. Behind them, Clarence was parking his Harley, and Kent locked his pickup. “C’mon in.” Then he spun his chair around on the low-pile carpet and returned to the living room, leaving the door open for them. “Did you hear from Sammy?”
Mac stopped munching chips to answer. “He said he had stuff going on and couldn’t make it tonight but would be here next week for our regular meeting.”
“Okay, then I guess we’re all here. There’s Coke in the fridge. Help yourselves.” He should’ve gotten himself one before he said anything. Now he’d have to wait for the others to return.
All the guys stood and headed for the kitchen, leaving Danny alone with the chips. It would serve them right if he ate them all before they came back.
Where did that come from? He’d told them to go get their drinks. Apparently, this good news messed with his head.
Or was it more?
Mac returned first, handed him a can, then resumed his place on the couch.
Danny nodded his thanks before pulling the pop key from the top, and enjoying how the carbonation settled his sudden grumpiness.
Once everyone sat, Mac started the ball rolling. “We just figured it might be helpful to be together tonight after the news this afternoon. For me, it sort of shocked me. I figured I should be happy. Guess I was. But then there’s this anticlimax cloud that, well, I want to know what it means.”
Josh set his can on the floor. “Just like in the Nam, it don’t mean nuthin’. In a week they’ll be tellin’ us the VC broke the treaty or something, so the war’s back on.”
“What’d you expect from Tricky Dick and ol’ Kissinger? They’d sell their mothers for what they want. This stuff was just to put them in office again. He dangled that Peace with Honor crap for votes to prove he’s not the liar he is. But you wait. It might not be this week or this month, but we’ll get dragged back there in the fight. It’s never gonna end.” Kent’s voice dropped off as if he’d run out of air, and the room grew quiet.
“You could be right. But then maybe you’re not. If you can’t know for sure, why not choose to accept the positive outcome? Make it a choice.”
Danny glanced up to see his father in the doorway. “Good advice. Oh, these are the guys, Dad. You already know Mac.” He introduced the rest of the group. “Come join us.”
His dad nodded and took a seat on the other end of the couch.
“Mr. Mitchell, what was it like when you heard peace declared in World War II? Were you in it?” God bless Spencer for including Dad.
“Yeah, I was in the Navy aboard the Bon Homme Richard. A signalman. She was a new aircraft carrier. I’m a plank owner.” Danny caught pride in his father’s voice when he explained he’d been part of the original crew. “We arrived in Pearl in early April for specialized training before we set out for the war. Our next stop was Okinawa. So, we were heading into our first battle when we got wind of Germany’s surrender. Great news, we all agreed. But we never turned around to head home. We still had the Pacific war to win. GIs and marines came from the European theater now to the Pacific. For them, it didn’t feel like peace either.”
Dad ran a hand over his face. “By the time we arrived, they’d all been fighting for that piece of rock for sixty-seven bloody days. The death count rose to one of the highest. I’ll never forget, we joined on June 6th. I’d signal the pilots for take-off and hope and pray I got to guide them when they landed back on deck. Made me not want to know the flyboys after a while.
“But you wanted to know how it felt about peace being declared. For me, it meant another year in the Navy. But it also meant I could go home.”
Yeah. But these guys in the living room were home. Or as home as they would get. What now?
