2

A few hours later, Bucky and Steve made their way onto the fairgrounds. At some point, Bucky had managed to find two young ladies to accompany them and was busy trying to get Steve to talk with one of them. But it wasn’t working. Steve was too busy taking in the sights, particularly the Modern Marvels pavilion.

The fairgrounds looked like something out of a science-fiction novel. Huge, futuristic buildings had been erected, and they stood alongside smaller tents and pavilions. High above the ground, a monorail silently glided by, carrying passengers from one end of the exposition to the other. People of all ages wandered around, their eyes wide open at the various sights. Steve had to admit it was pretty amazing.

Making their way farther into the fair, Steve and Bucky noticed a commotion over to one side. Walking closer, they saw a big sign that read: STARK INDUSTRIES. Standing on a raised platform next to a 1942 Cadillac Fleetwood Imperial was a man Steve recognized from the papers—Howard Stark. He was a millionaire inventor and notorious playboy who was always photographed out on the town with a beautiful woman on his arm. Right now he was giving some kind of spiel about “gravitic-reversion technology,” whatever that was. “What if I told you in a few short years, your car won’t even have to touch the ground at all?” he called out over the crowd. There were some catcalls and some cheers.

As they watched, Stark smiled and pulled a lever. Suddenly the Cadillac lifted up off the ground. It was floating and its wheels moved so they were parallel to the ground! The audience oohed and aahed, taking in the sight of the car of tomorrow. But then a series of loud pops and a shower of sparks came out of the wheel wells and the car dropped back to the ground, shaking the platform. Stark just smiled again and began talking about how not even he was perfect. “Well, I did say a few years, didn’t I?” he said, spreading his arms with the kind of smile that said he’d be right back at it again tomorrow.

Turning to say something to Steve, Bucky noticed that his friend was no longer by his side. Even Steve’s date didn’t know where he had gone. Sighing, Bucky went to look for him.

He found Steve standing in front of the one non-futuristic pavilion in the entire fair, the US Army recruitment booth. It looked empty. No one wanted to think about the war now, not when they could think about all the amazing things the future held. No one but Steve Rogers. He stood staring at the tent, enraptured.

“You’re really going to do this now?” Bucky asked, walking over to stand next to him.

“I’m going to try my luck,” Steve said, nodding.

“As who?” Bucky said, his voice harsh. “‘Steve from Ohio’? They’ll catch you. Or worse, they’ll actually take you.”

That was it. Bucky had had enough. He was leaving for England tomorrow, and his best friend in the world wouldn’t take the night off to have some fun with him, talk with some pretty girls, and maybe have a dance or two.

It was the first time Bucky had ever voiced his fears about Steve fighting in the war. Steve was taken aback by his friend’s honesty.

“This isn’t a back-alley scrap, Steve,” Bucky continued, his voice softening. “It’s a war.”

“No,” Steve corrected. “It’s the war. The war we can’t lose. This is the one that counts—and I mean to be counted.”

Steve took a step toward the tent, and Bucky put a hand on his arm as one of the girls called out, “Hey, Bucky, are we going dancing or what?”

“We sure are,” Bucky called back. “Come on,” he said to Steve. “It’s my last night.”

His friend turned and gave him a wry smile. There was nothing Bucky could say or do that would convince Steve to leave that pavilion. Holding out his hand, he and Steve shook. It was time to say good-bye.

“Don’t do anything stupid until I get back,” Bucky said.

“How can I? You’re taking all the stupid with you,” Steve said. “Don’t win the war ’til I get there.” Then he walked away toward the tent.

Bucky watched his friend go, his heart heavy. He hoped, for Steve’s sake, that he would get what he wanted. He just wasn’t convinced that when Steve got it, it would make him happy.

There was a part of Steve that knew he was being ridiculous. How many more times could he fail? And it was Bucky’s last night. But if there was even the slimmest chance that his luck could change, then he had to take it.

Walking inside the recruitment center, he was directed to an examination room. His eyes quickly adjusted to the dark. Where outside it was all bright lights and noisy crowds, inside it was quiet and somber.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw an older man come in. He looked tired, as though being there took all his energy.

The man made his way slowly over to Steve. “So. You want to go overseas. Be a hero,” he asked in a German accent. Steve just looked at him. He wasn’t sure what to say. Was this some kind of test?

“Dr. Abraham Erskine,” the man said, introducing himself. “Strategic Scientific Reserve, US Army.”

Steve had never heard of the Strategic Scientific Reserve but figured there were a lot of things he hadn’t heard of. Shrugging, he gave Erskine his name and looked on as the man found his file. Steve tried not to grimace when he once again saw all the red x’s, marking each and every one of his ailments and weaknesses.

“Where are you from?” he asked, to draw the doctor’s attention away from the file.

“Queens,” Erskine said. He paused, then added, “Before that, Germany. This bothers you?”

Steve was momentarily taken aback. Was this place legit? He hadn’t expected a German national to be inside a US Army recruitment center.

Then again, wasn’t Einstein German, too? “No,” he said, but he hesitated first.

It didn’t seem to bother Erskine. Probably he’d heard it all before. He finished reviewing the file and then looked up. “Where are you from, Mr. Rogers?” he asked. “Hmm? New Haven? Or is it...” He glanced down at the file again. “Paramus...Newark...five exams in five tries in five different cities,” he said. “All failed. You are very tenacious, yes?”

How did he know that? Steve wondered. He’d thought that by going to different cities, he could stay under the radar and the army wouldn’t see how desperate he was to enlist. Maybe this Strategic Scientific Reserve, whatever it was, had more intel than the other branches of the army.

Outside, a pair of men wandered by and turned when they heard Erskine’s German accent. They took a step forward as though to do something, when Steve held up a warning hand. Figuring it wasn’t worth it, they moved on.

“A fella has to stand up,” Steve said, turning back to Erskine. “I don’t like bullies, Doc. I don’t care where they’re from.”

The old man nodded thoughtfully. “So you would fight, yes,” he said. “But you are weak and you are very small.”

Steve was about to protest when Dr. Erskine did something unexpected: He laid out Steve’s file on the table and picked up a stamp. Steve’s heart began to beat faster.

“I can offer you a chance,” Dr. Erskine said. “Only a chance.”

Then, as Steve watched with growing excitement, the man pressed the stamp down on the file. Holding up the file, Steve saw a big 1A.

He couldn’t believe it. After all this time, he was actually in the army. His luck had changed. Just like he told Bucky it would.

As Erskine began talking about next steps, Steve tried to pay attention. But his mind was spinning. He had no idea what kind of group the SSR was or why they would okay someone like him. Should he be worried? Was Bucky right when he said the biggest danger would come if someone did let him in? What if this was all some sort of joke? Maybe when he got outside he’d see Bucky laughing, having pulled a fast one on his old friend.

Shaking off those thoughts, Steve focused on Erskine. Whatever the SSR was and whatever the reason they had for taking him, Steve didn’t care. He was in. Soon, he would be a real soldier, and maybe, someday, he’d even be an American hero.