Chapter 174: Ch.173 Draft

Chapter 174: Ch.173 Draft

America's entry into the war ignited a surge of patriotism. People eagerly volunteered for military service. Some wanted revenge for Pearl Harbor, while others saw the military pay as a reliable source of income.

Of course, there were also those who fought purely for their beliefs, like Steve's father. He resigned from his comfortable job at Su Ming's shipyard to join the military, determined to help those across the world fight against the oppressive fascists. He was sent to the European front.

Naturally, Bucky's father enlisted as well. Together, they joined the Army's 107th Infantry Division, currently stationed in Britain, where they were said to endure constant bombing from German forces.

Many of the workers at Su Ming's factories also left for the battlefield. The majority of those remaining were women, as it became increasingly strange for able-bodied men to remain on the home front.

War has a strange allure, drawing people from different walks of life toward the same bloody horizon. With various ideals, they cross oceans, braving storms and the constant threat of submarine attacks, all to fight on foreign soil.

About three months later, Bucky and Steve received the devastating news of their fathers' deaths. Bucky's mother, overwhelmed by grief, also passed away, while Steve's mother succumbed to tuberculosis, a disease she contracted while working as a nurse.

Both boys were now orphans, feeling the brutal sting of war firsthand.

"U-boats have sunk the USS Virginia."

"Nazis retake Zhytomyr."

"32,000 American casualties."

The newspapers were filled with grim headlines. Steve hated reading the news, but he needed to cover his frail body with the paper.

He was now in a small town in New Jersey called Paramus. This was his fourth attempt to enlist.

Since America's entry into the war, recruitment centers had been set up in cities and even rural towns. World War II was a battle of manpower and industrial capacity.

By all logic, the U.S. needed soldiers.

On recruitment posters, Uncle Sam, in his red, white, and blue top hat and tailcoat, pointed at every passerby, proclaiming, "I want you!"

But Steve had failed his previous three attempts to enlist due to his poor health.

Sometimes, he felt as though he was cursed, plagued with so many ailments that doctors would grow tired of documenting them. While none were life-threatening, they made him incredibly weak.

The recruitment center was inside a hospital. Steve sat shirtless in a large waiting hall among a group of muscular men, waiting for his number to be called. Compared to the others, Steve barely reached their chests when standing.

He was just too small. His thighs were thinner than the wrists of some of these men.

"And your mother?"

"She was a nurse in the tuberculosis ward. She caught the disease from a patient. No medicine could save her."

Steve answered with sorrow. He felt the weight of war's misfortune, which only strengthened his resolve to join the fight and put an end to it.

The doctor still didn't look up. Since the war began, he had heard too many tragic stories like Steve's.

Fathers went to war and died on the front lines. Sons enlisted for revenge and also died. Then another son would follow, or perhaps a grandson.

War consumed lives senselessly. On the battlefield, all you could do was pray for luck.

The doctor sighed inwardly and continued reviewing Steve's medical report. But soon, a long list of ailments caught his eye.

Asthma, scarlet fever, rheumatism, sinusitis, chronic colds, high blood pressure, heart disease, anxiety...

This wasn't a soldier. This was someone who belonged in a hospital. In the chaos of war, a mere infection could easily kill him.

"Sorry, kid."

The doctor finally looked up and gave his verdict. He couldn't, in good conscience, send someone like Steve to the front lines. It would be irresponsible.

He prepared to stamp "rejected."

"Wait, I just want a chance," Steve pleaded, growing desperate. Was he really going to fail again?

The doctor understood why Steve wanted to fight. Avenging his father's death was a compelling reason. But the doctor sighed and explained the harsh truth: "With asthma alone, you can't enlist."

Steve stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Maybe you could 'help' me?"

All it would take was a little leniency from the doctor, and he'd be through. America was enlisting tens of thousands of men daily. Who would notice a small guy like him?

He locked eyes with the doctor, hoping his sincerity would convey his resolve to serve.

But the doctor saw only a man blinded by hatred, ready to throw his life away. With his frail body, he wouldn't even survive the boat ride to England, let alone the battlefield.

"I am helping you," the doctor said, shaking his head as he stamped "4F"—unfit for service—onto Steve's file. "I'm saving your life."

Steve's world turned dark.