Chapter Text
1943
I sat in a wooden chair that looked like it was meant for a kitchen, naked if it wasn’t for the white cloth shorts given to me, looking at a newspaper about the size of my entire torso, as I waited for my name to be called.
This is my 5th try to enlist in the army. I’ve always been denied for medical reasons, and maybe this time won’t be any different, but I’m willing to try.
All the men around me read newspapers as well, most of the titles pertaining to the most recent acts of war we’ve received news of from Europe. Their chests were bare like mine, same color shorts as well, all given to us by the medical examiners.
They all looked so big compared to me, muscles adorning each chest in slightly different variations, and confident, but I refuse to let that put me down. Just because I’m small doesn’t mean I can’t make a difference.
Trying to make small talk with the guy to my right, also reading a newspaper, I say, “Boy, a lot of guys getting killed over there.”
“Rogers, Steven.” My name was called out from above me.
The man to my right put down his newspaper as I stood up, “It kind of makes you think twice about enlisting, huh?”
I folded my paper onto my now vacant seat, “Nope.”
When it was my turn to be assessed in the line, I stepped forward with my head held high.
“Rogers…” He looked up at me from my file that he read on a podium, eyebrow quirking with something akin to distaste. “What did your father die of?”
“Mustard gas.” I responded, “He was in the 107th infantry. I was hoping I could be assigned-“
“Your mother?” He cut me off impatiently.
I kept my spirits high, responding like a soldier would, “She was a nurse in a TB ward. Got hit. Couldn’t shake it.”
He didn’t respond for a moment, his eyes scanning the file once more, flipping pages. “Sorry son.”
“Look, just give me a chance.” I leaned in, trying my best to convince him, but I know how this plays out.
He stared me down, “You’d be ineligible on your asthma alone.”
“Is there anything you can do?” I asked again, desperate.
“I’m doing it. I’m saving your life.” Then he looked down again, stamping the code “4F” onto a previously empty box in my file, denying me the ability to fight in the war as a soldier. Again.
I stared him dead in the eye, disappointed and upset, grabbed the file in his hand that was outstretched towards me, then walked off past him to collect my clothes from where the nurse told me to put them.
I’m not sure why I thought there could maybe be a different outcome this time around. I don’t know why I thought that every time, but I did. I’ve had to change my location each time to just try to apply, so now the government probably thinks there are 5 different Steven Rogers’s running around out there, all 4F.
In hopes to brighten my spirits, I went to the cinema. The only thing playing at the time was another rerun of a movie I’ve probably seen around 7 times now, but it won’t do too much damage to my pocket so I don’t see why not.
I found a seat near the top of the auditorium, wearing my tan suit jacket with a tie Bucky gave me when I graduated college. We agreed on no gifts, but he gave me one anyway. Said I needed a good tie so I could dress up nice.
As usual, a short film in support of the war efforts played before our movie. Even though most of us in the theater had probably seen it quite a few times by this point, we watched respectfully. Everyone here knows someone overseas.
Then a man in the audience, sitting in front of me, started yelling out insults towards the film, saying “Who cares! Play the movie already!”
I leaned forward and with a lowered voice, said “Hey, you wanna show some respect?”
I heard a mixture of a scoff and a laugh from him, but he stopped for a moment. A woman to my left made eye contact with me for a moment, her eyes watery and rimmed with red from crying.
I turned my attention back towards the screen, but then the same guy from before started yelling out again, “Let’s go! Get on with it!”
More patrons in the theater started to look towards him, disturbed for one reason or another. “Hey, just start the cartoon!” He yelled again.
I leaned forward in my seat, sitting up straight, “Hey, you wanna shut up?”
He stood up tall and opposing, face darkened by the light of the projector screen behind him, as the film rang out with, ‘Together with Allied forces, we’ll face any threat, no matter the size.’
Before I knew it, he was leaning over into my aisle, tugging me up roughly from my seat by my suit jacket, and pulling me towards the exit of the building.
He pushed me into an alleyway, trash, sludge and garbage cans on the ground, and right hooked me in the jaw so hard I stumbled into one of the cans and fell on the floor. I scrambled up off the ground as fast as I could, posing to fight, but he just nailed me in the jaw again and I fell back over.
Leaning on top of one of the easily damaged metal cans, I grabbed its lid by the handle, holding it up in front of me as a shield, whipping around to face him. He yanked it from me, then punched me in the same spot on my face as he did the past 2 times.
Once again I fell, using the dirty walls of the alley to push myself up, blood sitting on my lip and palms covered in dirt. I rolled my neck out, hands in fists, and looked towards him again.
“You just don’t know when to give up, do you?” He mocked me, arms swinging at his sides, entertained.
“I can do this all day.”
I swung my right fist towards him with my whole body weight behind it, but he caught my hand, pulled it away from me and nailed me again. This time I spun around so hard and quick my head slammed into the can I took the lid off of as I laid flat on the ground, face now in the dirt on the concrete, blood leaving a trail where my head hit on the can and asphalt.
Suddenly, a familiar voice yelled out from where my attacker was, “Hey! Pick on someone your own size!”
I heard a scuffle behind me and slowly lifted my body off the ground, blood dripping down my chin from the repeated hits.
The new assailant made his way over, “Sometimes I think you like getting punched.”
I was doubled over, standing with my hands on my knees as I tried to wipe the dirt off. “I had him on the ropes.”
Bucky leaned down and picked up my new failed enlistment papers as I groaned with a hand to my head.
“How many times is this? Oh, you’re from Paramus now?”
I looked over my body and clothes, searching for any other damage I should know of.
“You know it’s illegal to lie on the enlistment form. And seriously, Jersey?”
I finally looked up to see my best friend as he stood in all his glory, wearing a brown colored army uniform. My face fell a little. I knew he had signed up but I hadn’t really come to terms with it yet. “You get your orders?”
He looked me up and down for a moment, then held his head high and told me, “The 107th. Sergeant James Barnes, shipping out for England first thing tomorrow.”
I nodded at his words, my eyes still taking in his new uniform. Feeling salty from today’s events, I looked down, shook my head and said, “I should be going.”
He nodded solemnly for a moment until a smile tore across his face, and he threw an arm over my shoulder, “Come on man. My last night!”
He directed us both towards the alley’s opening onto the street. “I got to get you cleaned up.”
“Why, where are we going?”
“The future.” He told me, handing me my form and a newspaper ad for a science convention it seems.
We walked to a nearby restaurant, heading straight for the bathroom, walking around eating or otherwise busy patrons. Once we made it to our destination, I looked around briefly to check if the stalls and urinals were empty, and they were, so I allowed Bucky to pull me over towards the sink.
I turned on the faucet and did my damnedest to scrub the stubborn dirt off my hands. I heard Bucky rinse his hands in the sink next to me as well, then cupped some water in his hands and brought them up to my face, washing the sediment and blood off.
I turned my head towards him, leaning a little more over the sink and closed my eyes, letting him do his thing. Ever since we were kids he would do this whenever I got sick or hurt. He’d be the one to try and take care of me. My mom thought it funny as she was the resident nurse, but I never really questioned it. It seemed to help him feel like he had some control, even when he didn’t, like it was soothing to him.
Once my face was thoroughly wet and all remnants of dirt and blood were missing (besides a cut on my lip and brow), he dropped his hands, giving me a tight lipped smile, and stepped back to turn and dry his hands on the rotating towel machine. I looked at myself in the mirror for a moment, taking in the bruising forming across my temple and jaw, then brushed it off, wiping the water off my soaking wet face and moving to leave the restroom with Bucky.
After a few hours of idle conversation and food at the restaurant we stopped at, it finally was night and we found ourselves at the “World Exposition of Tomorrow”, accompanied by bright fireworks exploding in the air far behind us, different colored flags waving, a giant globe, large crowds, and what looked like an upside-down train on a rail in the air.
As we walked away from some of the hustle and bustle, Bucky talked away to me in response to my displeasure of him leaving, saying, “I don’t see what the problem is. You’re about to be the last eligible man in New York.”
I just looked down at my moving feet and towards the side he wasn’t on. He’s missing the point.
“You know there’s three and a half million women here?”
“Well, I’d settle for just one.”
“Good thing I took care of that.” He responded, hand reaching up to wave in the air towards two women standing next to a statue.
My face fell in disappointment. I didn’t expect this to be one of his surprise set-up dates nights. They hardly went well for me, one reason or another. I suspect he leaves out descriptors of what I look like when he tells them about me before hand.
“Hey Bucky!” Yelled out the shorter, brown haired woman.
He smiled back, pearly whites and all, and all I could do was look with detached longing and sadness. “What’d you tell her about me?”
He smirked and looked towards me, “Only the good stuff.” So he left out what I look like. Thanks Buck. Now this poor lady who was expecting a good night is gonna have to be disappointed.
I tried to at least fix my hair (which was a bit ruffled from the wind) and squared my shoulders, in attempt to make a good impression.
The brown-haired girl latched onto one of Bucky’s arms and the her friend, a slightly taller and blonde-haired woman took in my form, then took a deep breath, plastering a forced smile on her face and turned away from me, following Bucky and his girl, grabbing her friend’s hand. I just walked behind them. She’s already made her decision. One look was all it took.
The three ran off to the Stark Expo stage, and an announcement rang out over the loud crowd, Howard Stark making his entrance.
Stark kissed one of the ladies on the stage, either for the hell of it or for audience attention, but it put a bad taste in my mouth.
I managed to grab some cheap popcorn on the way over in one of those little red and white striped bags, and reached between the girls to see if my supposed-date wanted any, but her smile fell when she looked down on it and she turned to look at me, upset. I faced my rejected snack like it was the problem, and tried to brush the whole thing off.
The audience started gasping about something and the ladies on stage took the wheels off some red car. Stark started to flick some switches and say some fancy words, but it didn’t matter because suddenly the car started to lift up into the air.
A few seconds later, sparks started to fly and it fell back down. “I did say a few years, didn’t I?” Stark said, and the crowd started to clap.
I turned around with a sigh, and found an Uncle Sam recruitment poster that said, “I WANT YOU for the US ARMY ENLIST NOW”. Above it, a sign pointed to where the closest recruitment station was.
Screw it. I walked off towards where the sign pointed, and I heard Bucky say something behind me. For a moment I thought I heard my name, but I probably heard wrong.
When I made it inside the recruitment station, I stepped up into this platform to try to see myself in a fun house type mirror which was meant to show you as a soldier, but my head wouldn’t even fit into frame. Again, I was too short, or too weak, or asthmatic, or too small.
Bucky came up behind me, pushing on my shoulder playfully, “Come on. You’re kind of missing the point of a double date. We’re taking the girls dancing.”
I stepped away from the platform, moving towards him. “You go ahead. I’ll catch up with you.” It’s not like she’s interested anyway.
The smile on his face seeped away. “You’re really gonna do this again?”
I shrugged, “Well, it’s a fair. I’m gonna try my luck.”
“As who, Steve from Ohio?” His words stung, emphasized by his exasperated tone. “They’ll catch you. Or worse, they’ll actually take you.”
I stared at him for a moment. I know how he feels about me trying to enlist, but it doesn’t mean I have to agree with him. I looked down towards his shoes, “Look, I know you don’t think I can do this.”
“This isn’t a back alley Steve. It’s war.”
“I know it’s a war.” I retorted, tired.
“I’m not gonna be there to come and pick you up and dust you off Steve.”
“I know.”
“Why are you so keen to fight? There are so many important jobs!”
I know he’s trying other angles here, but it’s my decision. My choice. “What do you want me to do? Collect scrap metal in my little red wagon?”
“Yes! Why not?”
“I’m not gonna sit in a factory Bucky! Bucky, come on, there are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them. That’s what you don’t understand. This isn’t about me.”
“Right. ‘Cause you got nothing to prove.” He nodded to himself when he said that, then lightly shook his head while keeping his eyes on me.
One of the girls from before yelled out again at him, “Hey Sarge! Are we going dancing?”
He spun to see them. “Yes we are!”, he said happily, arms out.
When he moved back around so I could see him again, he had a light but pained smile on his face.
Shaking his head again and walking backwards towards the girls, he said, “Don’t do anything stupid until I get back.”
“How can I?” He moved his head to see me, body half deviated towards the dames, “You’re taking all the stupid with you.”
He rolled his eyes a little at me, walking back to me. “You’re a punk.”
“Jerk.” I retaliated, reaching out to hug him tight, and patting him on the back.
My face now shared the same pained smile but it had become more of a neutral look, distant and caring look. “Be careful.”
He nodded, stepping back.
“Don’t win the war till I get there!”
He turned around for the last time, saluting to me, then ran off.
I walked deeper into the enlistment center, passing by small crowds of men talking amongst themselves.
I went through the usual routine, no different from before, and by the time the physical was over and I was sat on the padded bench buttoning my sleeves, the medical staff started whispering to each other.
I couldn’t make out what they said, but the man who examined me said “wait here” over his shoulder, then pried open the curtain separating this room from the others.
“Is there a problem?”
“Just wait here.” He said again, leaving the room, curtain shut behind him.
I pivoted to read the sign on the wall behind me, which stated: “IT IS ILLEGAL TO FALSIFY YOUR ENLISTMENT FORM.”
The dots started to connect in my brain, and I jumped up off the bench, putting on my shoes.
Suddenly the curtain opened, and a soldier stepped into the room with arms behind his back, staring me down. I’ve been caught.
I sat up straight in my chair, preparing for trouble until the makeshift door opened further and a man with a German-English accent stepped into the room as well, “Thank you.”
The soldier left, politely closing the curtains once again as the new man in a brown suit smiled at me with a file in his hand.
“So, you want to go overseas. Kill some Nazis.”
“Excuse me?” I asked.
“Dr. Abraham Erskine. I represent the Strategic Scientific Reserve.” He reached his hand out and I shook it, standing to try and match his height.
“Steve Rogers.”
He nodded as if he already knew that, placed the file on the bench and opened it up to read it.
“Where are you from?” I questioned, it was clear by his accent alone that he’s probably not New York native.
“Queens. 73rd Street and Utopia Parkway. Before that, Germany.” He fixed his glasses and turned his attention back to the paper briefly, then looked to me again. “This troubles you?”
“No.” It truly didn’t bother me. He just sounded foreign.
“Where are you from, Mr. Rogers? Hmm? Is it New Haven? Or Paramus? Five exams in five different cities-“
“That might not be the right file.” Damn it.
“No, it’s not the exams I’m interested in. It’s the five tries.” He closed the file, and stepped towards me, “But you didn’t answer my question. Do you want to kill Nazis?”
I looked at the threatening sign on the wall from before, then moved my eyes back to him. “Is this a test?”
“Yes.”
I took a second to think, then responded with, “I don’t want to kill anyone. I don’t like bullies. I don’t care where they’re from.”
He nodded in consideration and smiled politely, “Well, there are already so many big men fighting this war. Maybe what we need now is a little guy, huh?”
I could feel some of the waiting disappointment fall from my body like I just set down a 10-pound weight.
“I can offer you a chance.” He ripped open the curtain, walking out as a cue for me to follow. “Only a chance.”
“I’ll take it!” Finally!
“Good. So where is the little guy from? Actually?” He stopped at a desk outside the exam room, and faced me, my file open on the table.
“Brooklyn.”
He again closed the file, handing it to me. “Congratulations, soldier.” I opened it to find “1A” scribed into the page. He was able to look past my physical restrictions, he’s giving me a chance. I’m not going to waste this.
I took a deep breath and let out a mixture of a sign of relief from not being arrested and happiness from finally feeling like enough.
I closed my file, held it securely to my side on top of the other file already stowed away in my pants, and made my way on home for well deserved rest.