Rumors of War || The First Avenger

Chapter Four: Colonel Chester Phillips

Picture is Tommy Lee Jones as Colonel Chester Phillips in Captain America: The First Avenger.

Music is "We'll Meet Again" by Vera Lynn.

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CHAPTER FOUR: Colonel Chester Phillips

It's been three days since Bucky broke the news to Rose and Steve, and Rose still hasn't talked to him. Not a word. She goes to school, comes home, goes straight to her room, and doesn't come out even for meals. I have to give them to her in her room.

Steve took it better. He's proud of Bucky, at least of what Bucky told him. He's a bit jealous, too, but he seems to be taking it well enough.

When I asked Bucky why he told the two that he enlisted, he just said that he wanted them to be proud of him, and being drafted against his will wasn't what he wanted them to think of him.

"They're going to find out sooner or later," I admitted.

He shrugged. "When and if they do, I'll explain it to them then."

It's Tuesday, and Bucky is still working like nothing is going to change. He's trying to block it out, smiling just like always. He brought me white roses yesterday for no particular reason other than he loved me. I wish it'd never change. This life is worth fighting for.

And so I will. I'm on my way to the enlistment facility in Brooklyn after the kids got out of school to talk with a Colonel Chester Phillips about Bucky's enlistment. If there's anything I can do to get him out of this, I have to at least try.

The taxi pulls over in front of a large building in downtown. I pay the driver what I owe and enter through the doors. Inside, it's fairly simple. Brown walls, tile flooring, and a receptionist at the front desk. I walk up to her and smile. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, my name is Ms. Emma Holmes. I'm here to see Colonel Phillips?"

She nods, standing up. "Wait here for one moment. I'll tell Colonel Phillips you're here." She motions to the seats. "Please, have a seat."

I sit down as requested and wait for her return, gently swinging my legs back and forth to express my anxiety. If this man can't, or won't, do anything about Bucky's draft, there's nothing else I can do. It's probably very selfish to even ask for a man to be let go from his duties to the American army, seeing how every able bodied man is already doing his part, but I have to try. Losing Bucky... I think it would kill me.

"Ms. Holmes?" the receptionist asks, re-entering the room. My head perks up from my horrible daydreams. "Colonel Phillips will see you now."

I rise and walk with her back to an office. Inside, I hear a man talking very loud over what seems to be a telephone conversation. "No, Mr. Secretary," he says in a strong, southern accent. Texan, I believe. "I do believe that we need those generators to-... Yes, I know that they will cost a lot... Yes, I am aware there is a war goin' on. I also am aware that there are ways we can kick some Nazi a-... Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Project: Rebirth is top prior-... I'll be there. Saturday morning, 0900 sharp. Yes, sir. Goodbye, sir." Colonel Phillips hangs up the phone, stares at it for a moment, then mumbles, "Asshole."

"Colonel Phillips?" I ask, trying not to chuckle as I knock on the doorframe. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

He waves me inside and ushers me to close the door. "Absolutely not, Ms. Holmes. Just dealing with a small matter of Senator-what's-his-face and his committee of liberal budget cuts." I take a seat in his office chair facing him over his desk. He folds his hands. "What can I do you in for, Ms. Holmes?"

"I came to talk about my... friend, James Barnes."

Colonel Phillips sighs and leans back, lighting a cigar and taking a puff. "You want him out of his draft duty, don't you?" I nod, looking sheepish. He's seen right through me. "Ms. Holmes, I can't tell you how many mother's, sisters," he glances up at me, "wives, fiancees, and lady friends have walked through that door and begged me to let their boys go home. Young women, old women, children even. No one wants their boys to go to war. No one. Not even me."

"There has to be something you can do," I plead.

He stands and walks around his office, standing by the picture of him and a group of soldiers. "This was my best friend, James Howlette, and I during World War I. We were stationed in France, just west of the Hindenburg Line. We were drafted during The Hundred Days Offensive-"

"-The final period of the First World War," I add, "during which the Allies launched a series of offensives against the Central Powers on the Western Front from August 8th to November 11th, 1918, beginning with the Battle of Amiens. The offensive essentially pushed the Germans out of France, forcing them to retreat beyond the Hindenburg Line, and was followed by an armistice."

Colonel Phillips smirks. "You're a smart girl. You know your history."

I smile and shrug. "I'm a fourth grade school teacher. The children love hearing about what their parents and grandparents went through to win their World War. I have to stay on top of things."

He nods. "Jim and I, along with our squadron of sergeants, we called ourselves the Howling Commandos," he chuckles, as if remembering a fond memory. "We were stationed right on the Hindenburg Line. One day, Jim and I were doing our routine checks on the machinery, when all of a sudden, D. G. Johnson himself rides into our camp and orders us to prepare to cross the Sambre Canal. We gear up and head for the canal, but the Germans start mowing us down like the lawns. Bodies piled up and it was hard to even get to the bridges that were poorly put up."

"What happened?" I ask.

Chester Phillips looks up, and says, "Jim and I got to the canal and climbed over. We thought we had made it, that the enemy wasn't going to get us when suddenly Jim jumps in front of me." He pauses. "He tells me to duck for cover, then he fell into the water. There were five holes in his back from machine gun fire. My best friend died just seven days before the war ended."

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask. "What could you possibly want to prove with that?"

"Ms. Holmes," Colonel Phillips says, taking a seat back in his chair and his voice returning to his normal, authoritative self, "I have been a colonel for over twenty years, and I can tell you that there isn't a day that goes by that I don't miss my friend. But what I can tell you is that he loved being a fighter. He loved it. There wasn't a thing you could tell him to get him to change his mind." He pauses again. "Your Mr. Barnes has a duty to his country to serve when called upon. This world is in chaos. We have our damned right as a nation to call upon the young men to protect us. What if every man said, 'I don't think I wanna fight in this war.' What then?"

"He's not every man," I say, lowering my voice. "He's just one man, and he has responsibilities. He has a sister who has no next of kin. He has a surrogate brother who is very, very sickly and requires a lot of medical attention, and that costs money. Money that we don't have even on a normal day. You're asking him to leave his family and go off to get blown up by some crazy Nazi psychopath!"

"I'm not asking, I'm ordering, Ms. Holmes. It's unfortunate, the situation, but he will be compensated for his work for the United States of America." He stands and goes to open the door. "I have nothin' further to say. I'm sorry. I truly am."

I stand to my shaky feet, trying to find the will to stay strong in a time where I don't know if I can. "If he dies, Colonel, I will hold you personally responsible."

"Ms. Holmes," he says, sighing, "it wouldn't be the first time. If it makes you feel better, I will, too. Good day."

END CHAPTER FOUR: Colonel Chester Phillips.