Heartbeat (Completed)

Chapter: Sixteen

March 8th, 1942

Dear Steve,

I am doing alright here. You were right when you assumed that the food is pretty good. We get beans, bread, potatoes and some type of meat at every meal.

The bunks are hard, but nobody really notices since we're so tired by the time we fall into them at night. In my barrack, we have twenty four men crowded inside so space is pretty tight.

My squad is composed of ten men, me included. I think you'd like the guys.

Spencer is from the Broncs, and he works on those new underground trains. He's twenty eight, and he is the funniest guy I've ever met. He's tall and on the skinny side, but he is stronger than you'd think and always finishes the physical drills first. He always has a tall story to tell, or a ridiculous joke to share with us.

Davy and Danny are identical twins. They're barely eighteen, but they volunteered as soon as they could. They compete in everything they do. Normally families aren't assigned to the same group since it can be detrimental, but somehow it happened anyway. They share literally everything except for their guns and their dog tags. They fight and tease each other all the time, but they never harbor bad feelings for long.

Jax is a guy who was shipped here from Virginia. He's one of the best shots we have in the entire platoon though. He's pretty quiet, but he's interesting when he gets to talking. Apparently he comes from a family of twelve, so we can regale everyone with stories of our childhoods and the crazy things that we've done or witnessed.

Leigh is moody and hot tempered, but extremely loyal. Once at lunch he got KP duty for a week because he dumped gravy over another guy and started a fight. Apparently the fellow he fought with had called Stanley, our radio man, a wimp because he's kind of short.

Stanley is our radio guy. He's handy with mechanical stuff and he can weld metal as well. Although he's small, he's quick. He reminds me of a minnow. They look small and like an easy target, but they're impossible to catch. He's pretty smart, and he can read as quick as a wink.

Henry is a decent fellow. He is being trained on a flame thrower, which I think is the most dangerous weapon to work with. It just puts a target on your back. But he doesn't have any family, so he volunteered since he doesn't have anyone waiting for him to come back home.

Patrick has a dame back home. They're engaged, but he wants to go ahead and get married before he leaves so that if anything happens she can have his pay. I do have to say that he would be a good scout since he is very sneaky and is really good at hiding in plain sight.

Reese is our squad commander, but I don't think he really wants to be. His Pops is some hotshot so Reese stepped into the position automatically. He is well respected among the men, but he seems to freeze up in stressful situations.

How are things going at the Art School? I can't believe that you are going to graduate this year, can you? When you do, I'll take you out to a baseball game, and then ice cream afterwards. We'll make a day of it. Mama already said she was going to make you a celebratory dinner with all your favorites. I know you don't like muss and fuss, but you've got to let me have my way just this once.

How are you holding up health wise? I know it's allergy season and you usually get a cold this time of year anyway. Don't be stingy with the medicine, alright? I'll never forgive you if you die while I'm away. I sent you half my pay for the month, but don't be shy to ask for more if you need it.

Also, next letter, enclose a drawing for me will ya? I told the boys that you're the best artist I've ever seen, but they didn't believe me.

You wanted to know about the training that goes on here. It's mainly drills which are pretty routine and boring, but I know they are important. We run every morning and practice marching. We shoot at the range, but Jax and I are being trained for sharpshooting. We practice throwing grenades, running through enemy fire, and using the radio. Stanley will be in charge of it most of the time, but we have to know the basics of the operation just in case anything happens. We are also given hand to hand combat training, bayonet training, and we practice a ton of other stuff. Tying ropes, digging trenches, fox holes, and making other barricades in a matter of minutes, and carrying each other.

It's intense, but it keeps our minds and bodies busy so we don't care.

I better stop here since lights out is in ten minutes.

Tell Mama I love her, and take care of yourself.

Til the end of the line,

Bucky Barnes.

Barnes laid his pencil down, shoving the three paged letter into an envelope and licking it shut. He stuck a stamp on the envelope before tucking it into his rucksack.

"Who are you writing to?" Danny asked from the bunk across from Bucky.

"My best friend," Bucky shrugged.

"Where's he training?" Davy piped up, leaning off the bunk above Danny so he could see Bucky.

"He isn't," Bucky shrugged.

"Oh...is he in school then?" Spencer inquired.

"Yeah. He's in an Art School, and it's his last year. He'll be finished in May," Bucky gladly took the way out.

It sounded better that way - as if Steve would join after graduation or something. Of course, he would never be cleared, no matter how many times he falsified forms or tried getting in through different volunteering stations. His lungs were bad, his eyesight was poor, and he would never be able to keep up with the drills, let alone the real deal.

"I knew a guy who said he was in school when he wasn't just to get out of the draft," Leigh drawled. "He was put in jail."

Bucky bristled, but recognized the comment for what it was - a way to provoke him. Leigh was an instigator, of that there was no doubt.

"I knew a kid who falsified a form so he could get in - he lied about his age. He ended up in the same place," Patrick shrugged. "Really, there's plenty of ways to get there."

Reese stomped into the barracks, announcing it was lights out. Bucky sighed, curling up on his bunk. He hoped that Steve was alright. He couldn't help but worry about him.

Steve was bad enough as it was with Bucky there to patch him up after fights or to remind him to take his jacket with him. He was too stingy with the medicine, and Bucky worried he'd get sick and end up in the hospital, or worse, try to tough it out alone in their small apartment.

Bucky rolled over onto his back. His eyes drifted shut, too heavy to keep open any longer. But in his dreams, he was watching over Steve like a guardian angel.

And who knows? Maybe Steve had a similar dream.