Just so you know, I will post more chapters. This isn't the whole story. If people actualy read this I might actualy write another story after this. I hope you enjoy.

Quickly James filed the rest of his papers for the day. James was eager to get home. To get to his loving wife. And to get to the Packers game that was on that night. James found the letter "M" in his filing cabinet then quickly grabbed the file he needed. The file read "Marlot, Tom" at the top in bold black letters.

On his way home James decided to pick up some flowers for his wife Betty. Lilies were her favourite. With the sweet smell of lilies surrounding him James sauntered in to his home.

"Betty, I'm home." He called through the house.

Betty was in the kitchen when she replied. "Dinner will be ready in just a shake dear."

With that James crept into the kitchen and presented the flowers to his wife while kissing her.

The mail was on the table waiting for James. He sorted through it. Junk. Junk. Letter from mom. Junk. Jun…Wait! The letter was addressed to him. He stared at it. In perfectly typed letters at the top read "Department of U.S. Defense." Hurriedly James opened the letter. Before he could stop himself he was reading the words. Those foul words.

"Dear Mr. James Tucker,

You are here by summoned to serve in the U.S. Army to defend and protect your county. It is my great honor as President of the United States of America to tell you this news. Please report to blah blah blah. And do blah blah blah. Tell so and so blah blah blah. And…

Sincerely,

Franklin D. Roosevelt

James stood there frozen in the kitchen. He was paralyzed with the sheer shock of the letter. This simple piece of paper just told him to give up his home, his wife, his job, and most likely his life.

Betty saw the change in James. "Honey, what's wrong?"

"I…I think I just got drafted." The words fell like ice. They broke. Shattered. But most of all they pieced.

With a blank face Betty walked over and read the letter. Then without saying a word she began to set the table and serve the food.

One week later James reported as instructed to the Military Draft Office at exactly 0800 hours. The building was tall and thin. The walls were made of painted brick. Each floor contained one window facing out to the road. In the middle of the big oak door was a sign that read "We want you" in big red letters.

Once inside James noticed four desks facing the door. Behind each desk sat an officer in military attire with a clip board. Two of the four desks already had people being processed for military entrance. This left James with the choice of either a tall young man of about 24, or an older man with significantly more medals. James chose the first officer.

The man had a flat tone. "Name?"

"James. James Tucker."

The man looked up. "Date of birth?"

"June 9, 1919."

The man, still without emotion, said for James to report to the second floor.

After more than and hour of answering questions, filling out paperwork, and being shifted from one place to another, James finally was instructed to go home and report back tomorrow.

At 0600 hours James arrived at the front door of the Draft Office. "We want you" was spat into his face once again by the man in the tall hat pointing in the poster. James stepped inside. Once again there were four desks facing him, only this time none of the desks had clients. James started to walk to the young man he had talked to before. As he took his second step the old man instructed him to go directly to the second floor.

James had always been proud of his appearance. He wasn't vain; he just knew he was handsome. One of his most noticeable features was his hair. It was a deep rich brown and as soft as rabbit fur. James liked to keep his hair about an inch long. When he combed it back the small waves became apparent.

The first thing James met when he entered the second floor was "Mr. Buzz-Cut." Mr. Buzz-Cut got his name because he was in charge of giving all of the hair cuts in this building.

James thanked the man for the "beautiful job" and headed onward. James felt his scalp. All that remained of his beautiful hair was one millimeter of stubble. The coarse hair tickled the palm of James' right hand. Up a head of him James saw the next man. This man was standing in front of what appeared to be a large shower stall. The only problem was that the man (Mr. Cold-Shower) was holding a low pressure fire hose.

As James stood in the military shower dripping and shivering, he was then handed a set of military issue fatigues. The new wardrobe consisted of: one white undershirt, one set of dog tags, a pair of green pants, a green shirt, one pair of not-quite-white socks, and a pair of black Army issue boots.

The next three hours held for him the joy of sitting in the back of an Army truck crammed with other men. James watched as the city disappeared. Then more city appeared. This ritual continued for some time. Finally the truck stopped with one final lurch.

As James and the other men disembarked from the truck they were greeted by a long low grey building. Next to this building stood a fenced yard. With in the yard was assembled what looked like a shooting range, a mud pit, and oversized children's play equipment. James stood staring, as did the rest of the men, at the soldiers training in the yard.

"Alright ladies" said the driver of the truck. "Let's get our asses inside."

In a single file line 16 men filed into their new home.