In 1943 Steven Grant Rogers was enlisted to the United States Army.
Everyone knows the righteous, patriotic Captain America and his story. People might have heard of his mother, Sara, who was a nurse and died of tuberculosis. Perhaps some have even...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Since he had been asleep, and one of the last ones coming from the train, he didn't have the pleasure of hearing much from the people guiding them. He was glad Pierre decided to wake him up after they had stepped off the train, he had lost sight of Pierre when William had been pushed along a group of new soldiers. As he stuck to the group, noticing their curious gazes and wide smiles, he was shocked by the serenade that some uniformed soldiers hollered at them, you will be sorry! Even though there were humor and mockery in their tone, he could say some of them were sympathetic.
And that shocked him.
He watched as the guys from the train hollered and patted the shoulders of their friends, ready for the adventures to come. Oh how William craved for a friend at that moment.
"Come on ladies, move it move it move it!" a tall man with baritone voice ordered them. Will crouched down slightly, hiding himself in the group of flowing soldiers as they filled the barricade.
Still wearing the old suit and gripping his cheap suitcase, there was a bowl of broth thrust into his hands. Before he could even say thank you, the person behind him had nudged him forwards, forcing him to move if he didn't want to fall face flat on the floor and get a broth stain on the ugly suit. He was squeezed between two men, one who was inhaling the food with a speed that made William just stare and the other man was giving his bowl suspicious looks.
He had never had many problems with crowds, but this one made his hands clammy and his heart was doing some extra work for sure. His breathing was faster than it usually was, but he forced himself to look forwards and eat the broth.
He didn't even felt its taste, that's how hard he was trying to focus. The hesitant man on his left glanced at the way William ate, blinking slowly as he realized the food was almost gone. As the burly man on Williams right stood up, towering over half of those in the room, William followed in pursuit, gripping the suitcase as he made sure to stay close enough to the man but not too close for them to collide.
"Get in the line!" the voice was the same, baritone one from the outside, making William rigid with fear. There was someone else, standing right in front of the group. This man had more metals and William realized fast that this was a Lieutenant. Someone cut the line right next to William, making him the last in line while the others were instructed to somewhere else.
As William stood, still as stone he tried to read the expression on his face. The man was looking at the other side of the group intensely, making Wills blue eyes flicker there for a second, he leaned out of the line a little, trying to see what was really agitating the man in uniform. A group was chatting with each other loudly, making hand gestures and simply brushing the Lieutenants glare off. If he could, he'd go there himself and knock some sense into those guys, William thought.
As his eyes flickered back to the Lieutenant, he noticed him now glaring at the boy, making the blond step back in line immediately. So much of getting on his good side.
