The Professor smiled. This young man was just as he imagined: honest and kind-hearted.
"Alright, this war already has quite a few big fellows involved. I think maybe what we need now is a little guy." The Professor spoke in a calm tone, even making a small joke: "I can give you a chance, but it’s just a chance."
He turned around, lifted the drape of the cubicle, and gestured for Steve to follow him.
Steve grabbed his clothes and quickly replied, "I’ll seize it."
"Very well." In the examination hall outside, the Professor went to the doctor’s desk, picking out a stamp. The old-fashioned desk lamp made everything blurry: "So, Mr. Steve, where exactly are you from?"
Steve felt a bit embarrassed. He glanced to the side and answered quietly, "Brooklyn."
Dr. Erskine made a sound of acknowledgnt but said nothing. He flipped to the Brooklyn file, stamped it hard, and handed the folder to Steve.
"Congratulations, soldier, you’ve been selected."
The joy on Steve’s face could no longer be contained. His wish had finally co true, and soon he would be able to wear the uniform and go to the frontline to contribute to ending the unjust war.
The stamp on the folder was ’1A,’ which is the highest rating in the US Army enlistnt test, signifying that he could beco any type of soldier, including high-demand roles such as paratrooper and pilot.
The Professor smiled as he walked out. Naturally, soone would later inform Rogers where to report, but it definitely wouldn’t be as a pilot or submarine sailor as he imagined.
"Professor, please wait a minute." Steve closed the folder, holding it tightly in his hand. He had one more question.
"Hmm?" Dr. Erskine stopped and turned around, looking at him with a puzzled expression. Had he gone so far as to criticize this? This young man was indeed upright, but would he be so principled as to criticize this?
Steve was indeed upright but not stubborn. He hadn’t enlisted with the intent to do anything wrong; Baki often said one had to know how to adapt.
For a good purpose and result, the process wasn’t really that important, but he still wanted to ask if Mr. Wilson had intervened. After all, he stood out too much like this and feared that he might be reported, bringing trouble to Mr. Wilson.
"Do you happen to know Mr. Wilson? The one from Wilson Enterprises."
Dr. Erskine tilted his head, thinking, and a strange expression appeared on his face.
"My shampoo and toothpaste are both produced by Wilson Enterprises, so I should count as a loyal user. The mint flavor is indeed refreshing, but personally... I don’t know him."
The Professor laughed and smoothed his few remaining hairs, then turned confidently to leave, leaving Steve looking puzzled.
Strange, didn’t Mr. Wilson say it was all arranged? Could it be that the Professor wasn’t his friend?
He scratched his head, looking around the examination hall, where people were bustling around, not even noticing him, the little guy.
Suddenly, he felt soone watching him, and it turned out that the military policeman from before hadn’t followed the Professor out. Instead, he stood at a distance, gave a smile that was oddly similar to Gin’s, and then disappeared into the crowd.
Steve understood instantly; this military policeman was the person Mr. Wilson had planted.
This military policeman was fake, just a brewery employee; otherwise, how could it be such a coincidence for Dr. Erskine to et Steve?
While Steve was heading to the recruitnt center, this fake military policeman found Dr. Erskine, who was elsewhere at the venue, saying the recruitnt center found soone repeatedly falsifying information wandering inside, and this person might have a unique hereditary disease.
As a biology and anthropology expert, Dr. Erskine naturally beca interested. He thought the military policeman was from the recruitnt center, so he followed, only to et the slow-walking Steve in the hallway.
anwhile, the recruitnt center staff assud the military policeman was with the Professor. The Professor’s authority was significant; once his identity was revealed, everyone had to obey his orders, so this fake military policeman boldly followed.
Military policen are in charge of other soldiers, so naturally, no one would check him. Su Ming took advantage of all this, playing ’deceiving both sides’ to bring the Professor and Steve together.
And afterwards, the Professor went to fetch the materials while the military policeman kept an eye on Steve, giving the Professor the impression that if he didn’t want this person, they’d take him away.
In the hallway, having heard Steve’s determination to enlist, there was no way the Professor would let Steve be taken away.
So upon entering the cubicle, the Professor even thanked the military policeman, grateful he inford him or such a talent would have been wasted.
"Thank you!"
...........
Even after knowing the truth, Steve was still stunned by Su Ming’s series of daring moves. Falsifying enlistnt docunts was already a cri; the brewery staff even impersonated a military policeman. During warti, getting caught would be disastrous.
The key was that they really did it, and through so unknown ans connected him with the Professor, successfully enlisting him.
A daring plan, an ideal result, everything was arranged perfectly.
Steve didn’t expect Mr. Wilson to go this far for him; he was incredibly moved....
In reality, Su Ming’s courage was far greater than Steve imagined. Unlike the useless researchers under him, the brewery’s enforcers were all excellent, each one talented and eloquent.
In a chaotic place like this, creating a military policeman out of thin air was just a basic operation. Steve now needed to find a place to sit down and cover his mouth to stop himself from shouting ’amazing.’
Soon, a real soldier approached, handing Steve a piece of paper with an address and report date on it.
"Caspian Camp..." Steve hadn’t heard of this place. The unit recruiting him wasn’t the Air Force or Navy but the Strategic Science Corps, which the Professor had just ntioned, signed as SSR (Strategic Scientific Reserve).
He held the report slip and his folder, intending to return to the Wilson Enterprises booth to thank Su Ming for his help, only to find that Su Ming and Baki had already left. Jos, who had been promoting products at the booth, was waiting at the table where the group had been.
He looked like he had eaten too much, continually rubbing his belly and muttering sothing.
"Hi, Mr. Jos."
Steve greeted him, glancing around, hoping to find Baki.
Just like Gin, this middle-aged man in a tight sweater wasn’t really nad Jos. It’s just a code na. Apparently, the boss originally wanted to na him Joe-not-torn, but then said he feared being scolded by Apple fans, so he’s called Jos now, with the internal code ’master John,’ abbreviated as MJ.
He had no special skills, his greatest strength being his eloquence, and whatever he said seed very credible. With Wilson Enterprises now a significant size, Su Ming had him handle external contacts and product releases.
He completely rose to his position due to his uncanny resemblance to the real Leader Joe.
"Hi, Steve, done with the tasks?"
"Yes, I’d like to thank Mr. Wilson. Where did he go?"
Apart from the people around still savoring various foods, Steve didn’t see anyone familiar.
"The boss just returned from overseas last night and has gone ho to rest." Jos showed a friendly smile and reached into his jeans pocket to pull out a train ticket: "This is for you, left by him, for tonight’s train to Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. Caspian Camp is just 70 miles north of Philadelphia’s outskirts. The army will pick you up at the station."
"How did he know?" Steve was surprised, as he hadn’t ntioned it yet. Had Mr. Wilson already bought the ticket for him?
Wasn’t this just ticulous planning? It was practically a miraculous exhibition.
"Our boss always has plans well in advance."
Jos said with emotion. He had been working at Wilson Enterprises for many years, not as early as Gin, but from the major recruitnt in 1929, and he’s now an old hand at the company, used to the boss’s genius performances.
Steve didn’t hold back and graciously accepted the ticket, as he owed too much already. He just wondered if he could safely return from the battlefield to be a spokesperson for Wilson Enterprises?
If he returned from the battlefield missing an arm or a leg, he wasn’t sure if Mr. Wilson would still want a disabled spokesperson, as it wouldn’t do much for brand image. This era still had a lot of discrimination against disabled people....
Steve shook his head, tossing these thoughts out of his mind as they were sowhat ominous: "What about my friend Baki?"
Jos gave an obscure expression, raising his eyebrows at Steve with a mysterious look: "The boss booked the presidential suite at the Waldorf Hotel for him as a send-off to experience ’presidential guest service’ with his companion tonight... You know what I an."
Alright, Steve understood. It seed he wouldn’t need to see him off tonight, just hoping Baki would catch the ship on ti tomorrow.
"Alright, then I should head ho to pack up. Goodbye, Mr. Jos."
"I wish you a safe return."
Jos smiled in response; that’s the most suitable thing to say to soone on their way to the battlefield.
Covered by starlight, Rogers returned with quick steps to his ho. He imdiately packed his belongings, eagerly heading to the train station.
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