When Johnny Came Marching

When Johnny Came Marching

by John R. Downes
When Johnny Came Marching

When Johnny Came Marching

by John R. Downes

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Overview

What about those who'd drowned in the convoy since midnight? They were dead... their dreams quashed by a devastating event. Poof! Gone! One minute breathing... the next not. What about loved ones who were awaiting their arrival in America? Their dreams were quashed, too, weren't they? How were the dead ones chosen? And the survivors? Some would say it was their destiny, the work of an omniscient God. Surely, purpose and meaning mattered, though, or why would God even cause their existence to occur, if only to end for some in such a questionable and unfathomable fate? Those other ships were sunk by German U-boat torpedoes, but not Johnny's? No one was given a choice... yet, he survived to write this autobiography.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781468572278
Publisher: AuthorHouse
Publication date: 03/27/2012
Pages: 324
Product dimensions: 5.00(w) x 8.00(h) x 0.73(d)

Read an Excerpt

When Johnny Came Marching

An Autobiography
By John R. Downes

AuthorHouse

Copyright © 2012 John R. Downes
All right reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-4685-7227-8


Chapter One

November 6, 1938

The two-year-old girl with strawberry blonde hair peeked through the curtains of the Teddington, Middlesex, England flat. A vehicle had parked outside the gate, and a matronly woman wearing a raincoat over her white garment disembarked, opened an umbrella, and hurried toward the front door with a black medical bag.

Florence Joan Downes ran into the bedroom where her mother, Jane (nee Palmer) Fisher Downes, was writhing in the throes of childbirth and scarcely noticed her daughter's presence.

"Mama! Mama!" the little girl shouted. She reached up and gripped her mother's fingers.

A long, anguished moan was followed by shrill, short-breathed, screams. The sound of the front door opening occurred. Suddenly, Florence Joan felt herself being lifted up, then away, from the bedside and placed in a high-chair.

"There, there, pretty girl ... it looks like you are about to have a brand-new baby sister or brother," the midwife said, as she threw off her raincoat. Hers was a relaxed, reassuring, voice. She turned to the distressed woman, opened the black bag, and removed tools of her trade. "Your baby is making an appearance, Mrs. Downes. Make as much noise as you like. It won't be much longer."

Gusts of wind rattled the windows. Thunderstorms had been constant for two weeks. The cold, damp, English winter had been tougher to bear than most. A shroud of gloom had settled over the countryside from Adolf Hitler's saber-rattling and the devastating future the citizenry feared was in store. War had not yet been declared against Germany, but fear permeated Great Britain and all of Europe.

Appeasement talks with Adolf Hitler by Neville Chamberlain to prevent another World War had only been met with cobra-like smiles that preceded lies and false promises. For months Winston Churchill had stood virtually alone in Parliament, being called a warmonger the whole while, as he verbally assailed Hitler's imminent Nazi peril and validity of a treaty. Meanwhile, British Prime Minister, Neville Chamberlain, was being hailed by the press as an architect of peace, offering concession after concession to Hitler and his Nazi regime to avoid war at any and all costs. Two fortnights earlier, when Chamberlain presented the Munich Agreement to Parliament for ratification, Churchill railed against it.

"We have sustained," he proclaimed, "a total and unmitigated defeat." The House of Commons erupted into a storm of protest against him, rudely interrupting his speech throughout, but he continued in bulldog fashion. "We need not suppose this is the end ... only the beginning of the reckoning ... the first foretaste of a bitter cup which will be forced-fed to us year by year."

British Parliament approved Neville Chamberlain's Munich Agreement by a vote of 366-114.

"My my my," said the midwife, holding the newborn child up with two hands. "A strong-looking baby boy ... you have a brother to look after, pretty girl."

His name became John Roger Downes.

* * *

During her pregnancy Jane and her husband had been preparing for a move with their two-year old daughter, Florence Joan, to Peking, China, where Albert John Roger Downes had been proffered a position as a foreign correspondent for a London newspaper. The plan had been forestalled by the uncertainty of the political situation in Europe and a possible global war. Moreover, John Sr. was a reserve officer in the Australian Air Force and was subject to being drafted into England's Royal Air Force (RAF).

On 3 September, 1939, England declared war on Germany. Shortly thereafter John Sr. received orders to report for military duty as a pilot.

American citizens residing in the British Isles were given a choice. They could remain there or depart for the United States immediately. Since Jane was born in Kansas City, Missouri, she was qualified to leave with Florence Joan and John Roger. Dozens of U.S. and British merchant ships, military transports, and commercial passenger liners were chartered for the task, billeted to over-capacity, then set out for New York together in a convoy, criss-crossing through Nazi U-boat infested Atlantic waters with more than one hundred military vessels as escorts.

* * *

August 11, 1940

The second morning out of port was frantic. Two vessels had been sunk by U-boat torpedoes since midnight. Jane gripped the rail on the port side. In the distance she spotted British sailors in countless rubber rafts picking up survivors. Depth charge explosions roared unceasingly, along with heavy gun fire from Navy destroyers. Dead bodies and flotsam floated everywhere. Heaving seas broke over the ship's bow during the ship's frequent turns. Jane noticed that ships within view turned simultaneously. Passengers lined the rail beside their assigned life-boats. Many vomited over the side. Seasickness or fright ... it didn't matter. Johnny wailed beside his sister. Both wore life-jackets that were secured to one of the benches that lined the deck. He was two years old; she was four. Florence Joan hugged her brother protectively.

Two crew members were responsible for each life boat. They constantly counted designated passengers by shouting their names from a prepared roster. None were missing. Acknowledgment was required. Parents responded for their children. Organized cacophony!

Jane had been warned by the bureaucracy the voyage would be difficult, even life-threatening. She hadn't seen her husband since he'd been assigned to be second-in-command of a flight squadron in Iraq months earlier. His daily letters arrived in a bundle about once every four weeks. Thus, she didn't know his opinion about her journey before her departure.

During moments of serendipity aboard ship she pretended she was on the Queen Mary ... there was no war ... and her entire family was destined for China and the prestigious-sounding journalism assignment. She'd even acquired a Chinese-American dictionary to prepare for the adventure.

What about those who'd drowned in the convoy since midnight? she thought. They were dead. Their dreams quashed by a devastating event. Poof! Gone! One minute breathing ... the next not.

What about loved ones who were awaiting their arrival in America? Their dreams were quashed, too, weren't they?

How were the dead ones chosen? And the survivors? Some would say it was their destiny, the work of an omniscient God. Surely, purpose and meaning mattered, though, or why would God even cause their existence to occur, if only to end for some in such a questionable and unfathomable fate?

Those other ships were sunk by German U-boat torpedoes, but not the one that she, Joan, and Johnny had been assigned to? She had no voice in the choosing ... not that it would have mattered.

How easy would it have been within the pile of visas, passports, and other documents in the government travel office for her name to be printed on the roster of one of the ships that sank. She and her two children could have died, and three now deceased others would still be alive in her place, grasping the same deck rail she was holding on to for dear life

God must have known about Hitler ... that there would be a war ... that Jane would marry Albert John and move to England ... give birth to Florence Joan and John Roger ... have expectations of moving to China ... having those hopes dashed ... then being separated from her husband ... given the opportunity to return to America ... but only after being put in harm's way.

It isn't over yet! The U-boat attack is still underway.

Somebody hollered. It was the young man standing beside her.

"Look! ... There! ... It looks like a torpedo!. It IS a torpedo! It's coming directly toward us ... See it?"

A well-dressed woman spotted it and pointed. "Oh my God! There it is!"

Crowding and jostling occurred, as others arose from the benches for a look. Suddenly, the ship jerked as it turned in an evasive maneuver. Civilians on the deck fell down from the motion and lost their grip on the rail. Bedlam happened in an instant. A klaxon blasted overhead. A ship's officer shouted orders over the intercom to the crew. Jane elbowed her way through panicky passengers to her children, sat down between them, then held both of them to her breasts.

The ship stopped turning, became level, and maintained its former speed. Jane's face was buried in her children's arms. She couldn't breathe ... only wait.

"Look look look!" yelled the young man. "It's going by! ... The torpedo's going by. It's going to miss us! ... Praise God! It's going by! It missed! It missed!"

Chapter Two

1941 Illinois

Jane's departure from England had been filled with ambivalence and desperation. Events dictated every one of her decisions, large or small. Returning to her adoptive parent's home near Chicago in LaGrange was not her preference.

Orphaned at the age of six by the death of her railroad detective father, who was killed during a confrontation with a criminal at a train station ... and her mother, who died of tuberculosis, Jane resided with her brother, Kenneth, for two years in Chapin Hall, a Chicago orphanage, before being adopted by Helen and George Fisher, an executive for an oleomargarine manufacturer.

Jane had an independent, headstrong, disposition, plus a childhood yearning for show business. She'd attended radio acting classes, then one year at the University of Illinois in Urbana, but dropped out with hopes of stardom in New York City. It was there she met and married Albert John Roger Downes, then moved to England following a whirlwind courtship.

The fact that she was now married with two young children, and was separated from her husband by the war in Europe, did not diminish her independent bent. If anything, it emboldened her to be completely self-supporting. Rosie the Riveter portrayed her determination. Anything resembling charity or family assistance was not part of her makeup. Heated arguments about her desire to depart prevailed in the Fisher household from the outset of her arrival in LaGrange for more than three months. Jane could have remained in their embrace throughout the war; George and Helen Fisher begged her to; they cherished Joan and Johnny, and did not want the Downes threesome to depart.

The War Department offered her a good-paying job in Chicago's Loop. Women were in high demand in the job market. Jane learned that Chapin Hall was accepting qualified, non-orphaned, children whose fathers were fighting the war and whose mothers worked outside the home. The cost was six dollars per month per child, with lots of rules and restrictions. The application process was comparable to an FBI background check, sometimes requiring several weeks. Trouble-makers were excluded. Social workers conducted exhaustive interviews with family members, neighbors, and friends.

Life was regimented at the orphanage, but not quite to the extent described by Charles Dickens' Nicholas Nickleby and Oliver Twist. Johnny was four years old when he entered; Joan was almost seven. The two siblings rarely saw each other. Dormitories were segregated by age and sex—nursery, kindergarten, laddies/lassies, juniors, and seniors. The population exceeded three hundred children. Except for the nursery and teens, everybody ate together in the huge dining room at their assigned, dormitory tables. Weekend stays with a parent were limited to once per month—twice monthly for older children and their younger siblings. After two years Johnny was transferred to kindergarten, then two years later to laddies. He was seven years old, small, and fearless. His first night in the new dormitory was memorable.

Johnny had never slept in a closet, and although he realized that Miss Pirkle, the dormitory matron, deemed it punishment, he wasn't afraid of the dark. It was pitch black and absolutely still for several minutes after the door closed before he heard the incessant gnawing and scurrying of what he surmised were mice. One sounded like it was inches from his ear.

He remembered the closet's layout from the afternoon move-in—slide-out drawers, four high, all the way around on three walls, above which were deep, slotted shelves up to the ceiling. Each laddie was assigned one drawer and one narrow shelf space, not necessarily close together, for his clothes and toys with his penciled name tags tacked to the wood on both. Some were scrawled with crayon. Foot stools were necessary to reach the upper shelves. Miss Pirkle had explained to Johnny, when she helped him stash his gear that morning, that the new boys got the high-up spaces along with the floor level drawers.

"After you're here for awhile," she'd said, "you won't need to stretch and stoop. Boys who've been here the longest get their choice. You come and go."

He'd noticed that one named Bradley had a lower shelf slot right over his drawer just inside the door. Mitch's was beside Bradley's. The closet looked roomy enough for a dozen boys to access their clothes and pajamas at one time.

Mrs. Minifee from the office downstairs had accompanied Johnny to his third floor dormitory right after breakfast. In the hallway she'd presented him with a small sack of caramels, which he stuffed into his pants pocket.

"Thank you," he said.

"You're a nice boy, Johnny. I want you to like it in the laddies. You'll be the youngest one there. You've proven you know how to take care of yourself."

During the introduction ritual, Bradley, the biggest and oldest, derided him about being "no bigger than a girl." Others snickered. Miss Pirkle chose that moment to blow her nose. Later, in the dining room, as the boys carried their food trays to the table, Bradley shoved Johnny toward the girls side.

"The girls are over there, Sissy," he whispered.

Johnny kept his tray upright and seated himself at the laddies' table. During the meal he spotted Joan and her best friend, Margaret, seated together at the junior girls' table. Margaret kept staring at him.

The closet was more than large enough for his bed, which Miss Pirkle had wheeled in easily from its location directly across from her own small, private bedroom in one corner of the dormitory. Johnny sensed that she'd had much practice. Minutes after the lights were turned off, Kenny had heard Bradley murmur something from somewhere in the dark. Several boys began to whisper. Laughing occurred.

"Who's talking?" Miss Pirkle shouted from her room.

"The new boy ... Johnny Downes," Bradley replied.

Like a ghost emerging from the ether, Miss Pirkle in pin curls appeared. Her door banged against the wall as she strode to Johnny's bed and jerked it into motion. Her silhouette was framed by the glow from her bedroom light.

"Confinement time, young man," she proclaimed just before she shut the closet door. "Talking after lights out is against the rules. See you in the morning."

Slam. Click.

Johnny wondered what he'd do if he had to go to the bathroom, but chose not to scream through the door about it as he peered into the darkness. Without windows, there was nowhere street lights from Foster Avenue could peek through torn shades. He knew what all the rules were ... and that he hadn't broken any.

The Rules:

* You will be assigned one or more daily tasks.

* Daily hygiene is your responsibility (age 5+).

* You will always keep your area tidy.

* You will make your bed before getting dressed.

* You will report illness symptoms to the nurse.

* You are responsible for your own toys.

* Silence is required at bedtime.

* Factors for expulsion include lying, fighting, stealing, gambling, any other immoral activity, leaving the grounds without permission, and truancy.

* Penalties for minor infractions include but are not limited to:

(1) no weekend visit

(2) exclusion from next group outing

(3) exclusion from extracurricular activity

Johnny sat up in bed with a big grin. "That's it," he whispered. "Mice like to eat candy."

Clambering out of bed, he groped toward his newly-assigned drawer. He knew it was a bottom one along the back wall, third from the left. Tugging on it caused a scraping noise, so it took awhile to avoid notice. He removed the bag of caramels from his folded-up pants pocket, quietly slid the drawer closed, set the candy on Bradley's shelf atop his clothes, and crept back into bed.

6:30 A.M.

Johnny heard the click of the door lock and Miss Pirkle's voice. A single light bulb dangling from the ceiling began to glow.

(Continues...)



Excerpted from When Johnny Came Marching by John R. Downes Copyright © 2012 by John R. Downes. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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