Wild Hands Toward the Sky
By Ray Elliott
Young, fatherless John Walter McElligott grows up in a rural Illinois farm community during World War II and is inescapably drawn to the men of the area who served in the war and returned. Out of their own respect for John Walter's father, who was killed on Guadalcanal, these veterans treat the boy with a calculated deference and are compelled to teach him their hard-earned lessons about life, responsibility, duty and honor.
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"... a marvelous novel of remembrance and reflection. Having grown up in the nearby post-war Southern Indiana towns of Patoka and Princeton, the novel's wonderful characters and narrative has a ring of truthfulness I have never before experienced in a literary work."
— Alan K. Collins, Las Vegas, NV
About the Author
Ray Elliott
Marine veteran Ray Elliott is an editor, publisher and author of numerous works of nonfiction. As a retired, longtime English and journalism educator in public high schools and universities, he has encouraged and inspired many young people to pursue their dreams. In 1999, he left the classroom to write full time. Elliott is on the board of The James Jones Literary Society and the Illinois Center for the Book, and is an officer of the Richard L. Pittman Marine Corps League in Urbana-Champaign, Ill.
Read an Excerpt
Just as Sam started to open the door, a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky and a clap of thunder boomed and rolled across the countryside. I jumped. Sam turned real quick and dove under the loading chute and the back of the truck, grasping his hands over his head when he hit the ground. The rain started coming down harder, and Sam crawled out from under the truck. He never looked at us but opened the door and led the skittish calf from the barn and up the chute.
Burlson and I stood next to the barn to shield us from the rain a little while Sam loaded the veal calf. "He was in the war," Burlson said, a lot more solemn and quiet than I'd ever heard him. "Him and my boy was there at Normandy on Invasion Day. They're awful techy sometimes 'cause of what they went through. Don't say nothin' to him 'bout what you seen. He's embarrassed, I expect."
Sam let the end gate down and put the loading chute and sideboards back on the truck without looking at us or saying a word. While he was writing out the bill of lading for the calf and handing it out the window looking straight ahead, I crawled in the truck on the other side and done what Burlson'd told me and never said a word after we pulled out of the barn lot. He waved to us as we pulled away. Sam waved, and I started talking about baseball like nothing ever happened.