Johnny made it home,
Most of him at least.
Had three operations,
But the pain has not decreased.
The veteran's ward of the hospital was quiet. A month ago, it would be filled with noise of the young men chatting with each other and the rattle of medicine carts. Now it was just two men, lying in some of the beds. Their pale forms seemed to blend in with the white sheets that covered their bodies.
The first in the line of beds contained Ben. His own mother had hardly been able to look at him. He had been stationed in the front lines in France when it had happened. As he and his buddies were crouching in the trench, praying they would make it through the night, a bomb had landed to the left of him. The last thing he saw was his friends eyes go wide and then nothing else until the tarp of the field hospital above him. His friends were dead Ben was told, he was lucky to be alive. That's when he noticed his arms. Horrible burns ran across them, leaving his flesh black. Then, the pain set in. Ben screamed. He had never felt anything like it, this agony. Weeks later, when the doctors deemed it suitable, Ben was given a mirror. His eyelids were almost melted above his drooping eyes. The skin had ridges in it that weren't there before. When his high school sweet heart had seen him, she had run out of the room, only to come back crying three days later apologizing while breaking off their relationship. Ben was supposed to stay at this hospital until the doctors had finished running tests.
The second was Nathan. His sister came to see him every day; you could hear her crying in the hallway afterwards. Nathan had been shipped to the South Pacific as a medic. His sister, the only family he had left was overjoyed that her brother would be safer than most men. She hadn't counted on land mines knocking his jeep off the road and sending him flying headfirst into a rock. When he finally woke up, the previously bright doctor could barely form a sentence. His words were slurred and thoughts came slowly to him. Nathan couldn't remember almost anything. When word reached his sister he was coming back because of an incapicitating injury, she assumed he had lost a limb. A period of recovery would follow, then she would have her brother back. She hadn't counted on walking in the hospital room and meeting Nathan for the first time. He didn't remember her. Didn't remeber their parents. He did, however, remebering the brining corpse of his friends lying beside him. The gun shots as a young marine was gunned down. He didn't tell anyone about this though.
A nurse walked in and gave each man his medicine. "It's too quiet in here," she remarked as she walked over to the radio. "NBC was hosting a contest for swing bands to write a tribute to troops, like you guys. It started a while ago, but there might be a few performances left. You boys OK if I turn it on?" Without waiting for an answer, she clicked the radio on.
"And now" the announcer exclaimed. "The Donny Nova Band!" That's when the drums started to play.
Nick learned to survive,
Means you never trust.
Once you've seen the worst in man,
Then how do you adjust.
No one knew where Dan had come from. One day, the grocery store didn't have a clerk and the next day it did. He always looked a little funny behind the counter. His clothes, the store's clean, freshed pressed uniform, were new, but he was always poorly shaved, if at all, and there were bags under his eyes. The outline of dog tags was always visible under his apron. Mosier, Oregon was a buzz when he arrived. They barely had three hundred citizens, so a new comer was always something to gossip about. Perhaps if he had shaved or slept a full night, the girls would have giggled about their crush on him. Perhaps if he had smiled and wished them a good day, the housewives would have thought him to be an upstanding young man who was working his way to success. Perhaps if he had responded to their inquires about last week's game, the men in the community would have considered him one of their own. But his washed out appearance and his silence pushed others away from him. If a customer would greet him in the store, he would give one short nod in their direction. When asked about yesterday's football game, he would mutter, 'I didn't watch it'. The pastor's wife even invited him over for a home cooked meal, but he just shook his head, "no, ma'am," and offered no explanation. That's when most people gave up trying. But the pastor's son, Billy, a blonde haired six year old, was fascinated by him. So, the next two months, Billy followed Dan around the store. When Dan nodded, Billy nodded. At first, Dan had tried to get Billy to leave, but he refused. Over time, he got used to him and would let him stay as he swept the store. Billy would talk the whole time about which bugs he had seen that day or what his fifthe favorite color was. Dan would nod every so often and so a sort of friendship was formed. Every night, just before he left, Billy would ask Dan over for supper and every night he would say no. One night, Billy came in and told Dan all about this contest that was going to be on the radio tonight. He knew from his parents Dan had been in the military and was excited that he had found something that was connected to him.
"I can turn it on, if you want. Mom said it is on NBC and we can just listen to the end of it." Dan liked Billy, who seemed to accept that he didn't want to talk, so he just nodded.
"And now" the announcer exclaimed. "The Donny Nova Band!" That's when the drums started to play.
Davy cracks a joke,
Claims to be alright.
Drinks a fifth of vodka
In his kitchen every night.
There was only four men at the Fairview Second Bar on the night of December 16th. The working men usually didn't come on Sunday nights because their jobs started early the next morning. The rest of the men who had the day off were discouraged by the blustery 15 degree weather and stayed home. However, even if the temperature had dropped another 20 degrees, those four men would still be there. No one really knew their names, just that was was the son of Mrs. So and So and the other was the counsin of the grocer and so on. They had no jobs, it seemed, but every night, they would be here at the bar. Even though they never sat together people assumed they were friends. In a way that was true. Although they had barely spoken to each other, a silent comraderie of shared experience connected the men. All had been posted in the South Pacific during World War II, but had never met during the war. It was only later when each of them silently trudged to this bar every night to drink that they learned the of the others existence. The weather, their health, and even their families' pleas couldn't keep them away from this place. The bar tender knew them by their drink orders. Vodka, whiskey, gin, and another whiskey. Tonight they were on their fifth glass. The bar tender yawned. Technically, the bar was open until eleven and he hated to throw out paying customers with two sons in college, but he was ready to go to bed. Looking for something to keep him awake, he clicked on the radio.
"And now" the announcer exclaimed. "The Donny Nova Band!" That's when the drums started to play.
And I stand here trying,
Like Mother Mary with my private burden of grief to carry.
Welcome home my boys
Welcome home my sons
Welcome home my husband
Welcome home my love
Welcome home, welcome home
Welcome home
When Mrs. Sarah Nelson heard her son was coming back home from the front alive, she had ran over to her neighbors house, gigling and crying with joy. Her neighbor, an old woman with no children, had hugged her and they had tea together as Sarah had tried to calm down. As the next week passed, she cleaned the house top from bottom. Every so often, she would remember her son was coming home and she would dance for joy, only stopping when she reached the empty room at the end of the hall. Charles' room. He was not coming back from the war. He had been stationed in Germany when about a year ago that dreaded telegram had told her in thirty five unsympathetic words her youngest son was dead. When that had arrived, she had run over to her neighbors house, crying and cursing the military for taking her 20 year old. The two ladies had had tea before Mrs. Sarah Nelson returned to her empty house and fell asleep, crying and praying that Liam would be safe, in her son's empty bed. She never went back into the room after that. Finally all her cleaning was done and it was Novemeber 1st, the day Liam was coming home. She arrived at the train station two hours before he was supposed to arrive, just in case he was early. The train was a half an hour late, but Mrs. Sarah Nelson sat there with a smile on her face the whole time. Then, Liam walked out of the car. She ran to him, wrapping her arms around him, crying uncontrablly. He stiffened at her touch and then hugged her back.
"It's good to see you, ma," he said.
"It's good to have you home." They got into their car. Mrs. Sarah Nelson turned the key and stomped on the clutch. Instead of starting, the car backfired.
She laughed and told her son, "this old thing is alwa-." A sob cut her off. Liam's head was between his legs and he took deep, heavy breathes in. She reached out to rub his back, confused what was happening. As soon as she touched him, he slapped her hand away. Sarah froze. Never in his life had he so much as raised his voice to her. A few seconds later, Liam lifted his head up.
"I'm sorry, ma." Then he began crying again. This time, he let her pull his head into her lap and they sat there for an hour until he calmed down. Then, they drove home.
Over the next few months, Sarah noticed how much her son had changed. He tensed when the door slammed. She could hear him pacing in the living room every night, sometimes never sleeping. He stopped listening to the baseball games on the radio he used to love. Long periods at meal times he would be silent. Sometimes, she found him curled up on the floor crying. He wasn't the Liam she had remembered. The Navy had taken both her sons. Failure weighed heavy on her; as a mother, she should be able to help her son, but she was powerless. They never talked anymore. One night in December, the silence became unbearable and she decided to turn on the radio.
"And now" the announcer exclaimed. "The Donny Nova Band!" That's when the drums started to play.
Wayne is never free, schedules out his day
Filling every minute just to keep the ghosts away
He could never get back the life he had,
Faced with raising kids who did not recognize their dad
When Frank was huddled in the trenches with his friends dying around him, he was so sure that when he came home, it would be just like it was before. He would come home on the 5 o'clock train, his daughters would meet him at the door and he would greet his wife. Then they would eat supper together and listen to the radio as the girls played dolls and Samantha knit. Now he had been back for two months. His daughters had not met him at the door. Instead, they had burst out crying and hid behind Samantha when he came home. He and Samantha had met in high school and were married as soon as he got his first job working as a manager in the general store down the road. Three girls followed, the oldest of which had been 7 when he left. Now he was back, three years later, and they hardly recognized him. Sometimes, Frank felt like he was one of the triangular pegs his youngest daughter tired to put in the square hole in her toy. His daughters were shy around him. They never chattered easily about their day as they did with their mother. When he came home from work, he could hear their voices through the door tumbling over each other like the brook in their backyard, but as soon as he opened the door, it stopped. Frank couldn't find it in himself to talk to them, though. Even before the war, he had not been talkative, but had managed to talk to his daughters. Now, all he thought about was what had happened when he had let himself open up to Mark, Noah, and Garrett. Their bodies still haunted his nightmares. He could tell Samantha was becoming increasingly irritated with him. She didn't understand why he couldn't talk to their daughters. Most nights, he could barely talk to her, even if he did it was small talk, never what had happened over there, or how much he had missed them. There were days where he didn't speak at all, just sat there consumed by his memories, scared that she and the rest of the world would ostracize him if they knew about his weakness. One thing that did stay the same was listening to the radio every night. Of course, Samantha never sat next to him on the couch and the girls would only show her their creations now, but even this little bit of normalcy steadied him.
"And now" the announcer exclaimed. "The Donny Nova Band!" That's when the drums started to play.
Jimmy made it back to town four months ago
Lived to tell of things no one could bear to know.
Keeps his guard up now a lot goes undiscussed
Focuses on fighting what he finds unjust.
Isabel knocked on her brother's door. "Henry? Do you want to listen to the radio with us?" The room was silent.
"No thank you. Maybe another night. I have a test to study for."
Then, the sound of a pencil resumed. Isabel tip toed down the stairs. Her parents turned around in their chairs and looked questioningly at her. She shook her head. Her father sighed and put his cigar back in his mouth. Her mother returned to her knitting with a resigned grimace. Ever since Henry had returned from the war, he hadnt listened to radio with them. It used to be his and Isabel's thing. Even though he was 6 years older than her and loved football, they both enjoyed listening to their favourite radio programs at night. Now, he sat in his room and studied. Med school was the only thing on his mind now. Every night they asked him if he wanted to join them and every night it was the same reply. They were hesitant to turn on the radio without him. It felt so strange, but listening to it seemed to harkened back to the old days when they were a whole family so they did it anyway. Isabel tried to finish the rest of the row of her cross stitch in the silence before her mother gave her the nod that meant that she could turn on the old device. Her mother was furiously knitting as if knitting her son this scarf would make him emerge from the room and embrace them as he used to. Finally, she nodded. The Tribute to the Troops contest was tonight and her mother had been very excited about it. She thought it might make her son listen, but that wasn't going to happen. Isabel rose from her chair and turned the dial, through the static they heard
"And now" the announcer exclaimed. "The Donny Nova Band!" That's when the drums started to play.
Welcome home my boys
Welcome home my sons
Welcome home my husband
Welcome home my love
Welcome home, welcome home
Welcome home
Betsy missed her father. He had physically returned from Germany four months ago, but not mentally. The chair at the head of the table that had been open for three years was now occupied, but it might as well have been empty. Most days it was fine. Sure, he no longer was willing to help her with her girl scout projects, but him being there made up for those short comings. It was when things happened that Betsy wondered what that war had done to her father. A dropped plate would bring him to tears and he would remain silent for a week, then return to normal until the next accident. It was the unpredictability that scared her. Her favourite subject in school was Physics because it was predictable. Forces always acted the same. Accelerations didn't change based on the week.
"Hey, dad!" she called as she entered the house.
"How was your day?" He father replied from the living room where he was looting over the accounting books for the family business.
"Good." She placed her books on the counter and turned around to get a snack. Then, out of the corner of her eye she saw Lil, her cat jump on the counter. Her feet landed on the book and then she leapt off the book to the windowsill. The force from her paws knocked the books to the floor. As if in slow motion, they fell to the floor and bang! From the next room, she heard her dad cry out.
"Dad?" She ran into the next room. His eyes were closed and his fists clenched. "Are you Ok?" She touched his arm and he flinched as his eyes flew open. He stared at her then walked up the stairs to his room, closing the door behind him. Betsy went back to the kitchen. She could calculate the force it would take for those books to fall, but she could not help her father. It only made it worse that he didn't talk about the war. If only she knew why. He was home, why wasn't it just like it was before? That night at supper, she felt a guilty knot in her stomach as her father didn't utter a word. Finally, after supper, as the family gatuered in the living room to read, knit, or in her father's case, sit, the silence became unbearable. Betsy rose and clicked the radio on.
"And now" the announcer exclaimed. "The Donny Nova Band!" That's when the drums started to play.
Donny does his best, trying to pretend
What he doesn't talk about won't matter in the end.
Donny made it home but thinks it wasn't fair
How he made it out but left his buddy there
Donny doesn't sleep because the nightmares come
Donny wants an answer
Donny looks for absolution
And I'd give up anything if I could give him some
The bed on the other side of the room seemed so empty. Calvin faced the ceiling to avoid looking at it. He heard footsteps outside his door as his mother walked passed the door, stopped, and then continued in her path. He knew why she didn't come in bustling about trying to striaghten the stacks of books while asking him about his day as she use to. He was the reason that bed was so empty. The room seemed divided in two sections, his side where the sunlight from the window didn't quite reach and he lay on the bed, too defeated to do anything else and Eli's side. His sheets still perfectly flat, the sunlight seeming to form a halo around it. Beside the bed was a picture of the brothers from when they were young. Calvin, the older one, was pushing Eli in a wagon; both boys were laughing. When Calvin had first gotten home, he had wanted to face the picture down and escape from its accusing glare, but he found he needed it there to remind him of his guilt. Besides, it was a much better image of Eli than when Calvin had last seen him.
"Eli, come on. You'll have time to write later. Come play cards with me." Calvin was sitting on the floor of the trench with the pack of cards his pa had given him the day he left. Eli was leaned up against the wall.
Without looking up from his letter, Eli replied, "I'll do it later."
"You've been writing all day. Finally get Ella Rose to wirte to you?" Calivin laughed. "Let me see." he grabbed the letter.
"No! Give it back!" Eli insisted.
Calvin cleared his throat read it in a mocking voice. "Dear Edward, I have missed you so much since our last meeting. I-" He stopped reading. "Eli. You're- what- you're-you're. Ma and pa would die if they knew. I-" Calvin felt his head spinning. His little brother was-. He couldn't even think it. His whole life he had seen people like him ridiculed. His natural instinct to protect his brother was paralized. "I have to go."
"Calvin-wait. Don't tell anyone. Please don't." Eli looked so small. Calvin turned and looked back at him one more time then walked down the line a bit to find the other soldiers. He wasn't going to tell, but he needed time to process. Just then, the German camp that had been so silent for three weeks errupted with noise. Bombs, machine guns, planes filled the air. The smoke was so thick, Calvin could barely see his hands. But one thought was present in his mind. Eli. He had to get to Eli. No matter what happened, Eli was his brother and he was not going to let him die. He pushed passed anyting in his way. Everyone was scarmbling for their guns and a few slumped over as another round of bullets hit the trench. Finally, he made it back. There was Eli, laying on the ground with a river of blood seeping out from behind his helmet.
Calvin dropped to his knees, "Eli? Eli!" But there was no response. His brother was dead. If only he had been here. If only the last time he saw him, he hadn't run out. It didn't seem to matter now. Five hours later, when the battle was done, medics did a sweep of the trench and found Calvin cradling his brothers body, crying. He was sent to hospital after seemingly being unable to talk.
Another set of footsteps walked passed the door. His mother again. This time she entered his room.
"Sweetheart, you've been home for a month. Its time to move on. Sometimes bad things happen to us. We just have to push past them." Calvin's hands started shaking. "Your father came back from the war and got a job. You just need to get out in the world. Jane, I'm sure, would love to go on a date with you. We can go back to where we were before." That's when he broke down in tears. She looked uncomfortably at him and then left. He heard her walk into the kitchen and then the murmur of his parent's voices. His father walked up the stairs.
"Calvin. Your mother is trying to show she cares." Calvin turned his head away. "She thinks the war doesn't bother me and it shouldn't bother you. When I got home for the army, I got a job right away so I wouldn't have to deal with everything. I never talked about the war all those years because to do so would be to relive hell. My best friend died next to me." Now he was starting to tear up too. "And you know, it took me years to accept it wasn't my fault. Somedays, I still believe it was, but it isn't. Calvin, you did not kill Eli. He enlisted of his own accord. I know this is hard, but trust me, it gets better." Then, he uncharacteristically wrapped him in a hug. Calvin sat their stunned, but finally put his arms around his father and wept. "Now, please come downstairs. Just listen to the radio with us. you don't ahve to talk, just be with us." SLowly, Calvin nodded and followed his father down the stairs. His mother was sitting in her arm chair, knitting a hat for her sister. She looked meekly at him when he came in as if she were regretting their talk earlier.
"Here, I made you some hot chocolate." He nodded his thanks and took the mug, wishing he knew how to tell his mother what the war inside his head was like, wishing he could tell her he loved her. She looked at him a moment longer, then went over to the radio and turned the dial.
"And now" the announcer exclaimed. "The Donny Nova Band!" That's when the drums started to play.
If I stand here helpless, my arms extended
Knowing full well, darling, your war's not ended
Welcome home
Welcome home my husband
Welcome my love
Welcome home, welcome home
Welcome home my boys
Welcome home my sons
Welcome home my husband
Welcome home my love
Welcome home
Welcome home
Welcome home
As the last notes filled the room,
two men in a hospital began to talk ,
a janitor in a grocery store cried,
four men put down their drinks,
Mrs. Sarah Nelson's son hugged her,
Frank stayed up past his usual bedtime by ten minutes and played with his daughters,
Henry came down the stairs and listened to the radio with his family,
Betsy turned around and hugged her crying father,
Calvin forgave himself for a minute and told his parents he loved them,
and for a minute, everyone was a just a little more OK than they had been and that was enough.