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...
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William gripped the railing, yesterdays soup falling into the sea down, down below. He groaned, hiding his face into his sweaty hands as he cursed at himself, well, now he knew why Steve never allowed him to even try Whiskey.
First of all, it tasted bad, in the beginning at least. Secondly, William could not remember anything from last night. He just remembered telling a story about how he once climbed a tree and found Santa's lost Elf there. And thirdly, he felt as if Lucifer himself had gone into his stomach and started throwing his organs around. Jack slapped his face slightly as someone snickered in the background. "Dear heavens above, you said you can hold tons of Rum!" William mumbled something under his breath, the sound was muted due to him barely moving his lips. "Come on, we've got a bit more time, you need to be sober when we reach the land."
He started leading Will back to his punk bed, some of Jacks friends laughing at William and Jack who was anything but amused. Will's eyes were half-closed, his head lolling back but Jack would always slap him again. Some men mumbled unhappily as Jack helped sweaty Will on the bed, but the fair-haired boy suddenly grabbed the front of Jacks uniform, making him look up curiously. "I need a pen."
"Why the hell do you need that for? To stab yourself? Look, you almost strangled yourself yesterday, with a damn bottle! Saying you're like Steve now, who even is Steve?" Jack asked quietly, trying not to disturb others who were actually trying to get some shut-eye. William narrowed his eyes, convinced that Jack was speaking German,
"I am not Hitler!" he suddenly shouted, almost falling off the punk if it weren't for Jacks arms shooting out to push Will back. "No one said you were, idiot!" William blinked, staring at the dark-skinned man as if he only now understood that he was there. "I need to... I need to write a letter to Rosa." Jack watched, confused as William looked through all of his pockets as if pen and paper would have appeared there magically. "What do you want to write her?" he asked instead, wondering if Will would let something slip.
"We are going to marry one day, I need to know-- need to know if she..." he mumbled something more under his breath, Jack leaning closer curiously. "know what?" "If she would wait for me, I like her a lot."
Jack sighed, someone, telling them to shut up before turning their back towards Jack and Will again. "hey, you can do this later, once you..." he trailed off, hearing Williams quiet snores as the young man had fallen face-first onto the hard pillow. "...feel better," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly as he turned around quietly, being met with a pair of angry eyes glaring at him from across the room. He ignored it and left the room, quietly heading towards his own punk.
William swore he would never touch an alcoholic drink ever again, not even beer.
That day, he didn't see Jack Fury anymore, there were so many soldiers that all of them were complete strangers to him. Some snickered at him when he dragged his tired feet across the ground, barely able to keep his eyes open. Most, however, ignored him.
With aching head and sick stomach, William had made it to England.
After he was able to get some water, he did felt better just slightly. But just because he was having a mild hangover, didn't mean the world would stop around him. No, not at all. If anything it seemed to be more alive.
His name was called and he was yet again shoved into another truck, as much as he was trying to doze off wherever he could, he understood they were being brought to some camp where they would get some more information, get their guns and be sent off to somewhere else. He realized most information was always very vague. But he wasn't naive, he knew that the less they knew, the better it was that way.
The day was a blur, the rocking of the truck lulled him into a slight slumber immediately, not even that bothering him anymore.
Maybe it was better this way because it was sure safer for everyone if he was just snoring, not telling them another story how he found a bottle filled with ants and snuck it into a store...
When the truck stopped, Williams sky blue eyes flew open and his breath hitched.
When the emotionless man outside the truck started reading names, Williams' throat went dry. The names didn't seem to end as he kept reading, once he called Williams name, he nearly fell out of the truck, not having expected his legs to be so jelly-like. The man had halted with his reading, looked up at William in bemusement, sighed, and read on.
clutching his bag, Wills blue eyes slid over the faces around him, scared for a second that Bucky would be there. Hundred and seventh regiment, he had been sent to England, after all. When he realized that all and every single one of them was strangers, he couldn't tell if he was more relieved or upset.
“Rogers?” he whipped around, trying to put a face to the voice. “Rogers!” it was agitated, baritone voice. “Yes sir!” he said, standing straight as he was met with a furious face of an English soldier who had a long list of names. His round face was red and he was clearly agitated.
“Get here, move it, move it, move it!” he pointed towards a line of emotionless men, who all glanced at Will.
To his utmost relief, he noticed a familiar face among the sombre looking men. Jack was definitely not amused as Will squeezed himself in the line, standing straight and rigid, perhaps a little unkempt, but there nevertheless.
The days bled into weeks and the travels roughened, at times they came across camps and William hoped that he was there finally, but when some men stayed behind, he was still commanded to move forward.
Even though the travelling was rough, and days became a blur, something was starting to nag Will. Whenever he saw that a cold shudder would run down his arms and curiosity made him frown. He had noticed the symbol a couple of times now, and in all honesty, he couldn't recall where he had seen it before. He just knows he had, many times even.
The symbol looked ugly in his opinion, he didn't even know what that was, but it was as if someone wanted to draw an octopus, yet the head was a skull. He often snickered when he thought about the green mark, it didn't look like someone had worked hard on making it.
For a brief second, he wondered if the sign was a symbol for high ranking soldiers, and perhaps he didn't listen enough in Camp Leigh when they taught them the meanings and ranks. So, he didn't ask much about it, afraid to look like a fool.
Little did William know, this symbol had more meaning then he would have guessed, and now, in this era, they would thrive like never before.
*** Well, here it is folks. Feedback would be much appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it :)
