So some things to keep in mind for this chapter: I haven't done extensive research on recruitment for the war, but i do know that they were in dire need of soldiers. Young boys that were under the age of eighteen, sometimes as young as thirteen would make their way into the military to fight in the war. most of the time the recruitment officers could tell but they turned a blind eye. these boys were usually messengers and errand boys instead of on the front lines.

the height requirement for all soldiers was 5'3".

The Lafayette Flying Corps was a group of American pilots who fought with the French before the U.S. declared war. they were typically volunteers. This started with a small group of men who started the Lafayette Escandrille. Other squadrons were formed over the coure of the war. By the time the U.S. joined the war, people still volunteered with the LFC and there were many squadrons including the LE. Americans were only pilots. All other positions were filled by Frenchmen. This is actually a fascinating part of history. I highly recommend reading about it.

Assuming an identity before social security was much easier. Social Security numbers were not issued until 1936 as part of FDR's New Deal.

I have not come across any story of women fighting in World War 1, but as far as historical fiction goes, it's plausible. The binding that Arya does is around the chest and the waist. you place two long, thin, cushions along the sides of your waist to hide the curve and then bind it with an ace bandage making a smooth torso.

Hope you enjoy! - FlamingRose

November 1, 1917, recruitment Center

Arya was terrified. Even in her trousers with her hair cut short, her chest bound, and the curvature of her waist hidden, she felt like she stuck out. I might as well be wearing one of Sansa's evening gowns and ribbons in my hair, she thought dolefully. Still, she had to try. It was too late to turn back now. She straightened her posture as she regained her confidence standing in the line of boys. She barely made the height requirement standing at five feet and three and a half inches, and she bribed the doctor with five dollars she managed to scrape together by saving and stealing so that they would pass her through the physical. Now she was in one final line to become an official solider. She was only two people away from having her name—or rather someone's name—on the ledger. She'd receive her uniform and her assignment, then off she'd go to fight.

The man at the table was old—older than her father anyways—and the definition of gruff. He was decorated and high ranking, but his uniform was faded from multiple washes and multiple wears. He was what Uncle Benjen called career military. The lack of ring on his finger told Arya this was his life. Next to him sat a quiet young man with broad shoulders. He also had on a uniform, but it was foreign to Arya. She wasn't even sure it was American. She thought she spotted the French seal somewhere on it, but she wasn't sure.

They were different than the other officers she'd seen so far. The others barely looked at her if they looked at her at all. She could slip between the gaping cracks in the system when they weren't looking. That's how she was standing in this line. These were different though. They looked at each of the boys in turn instead of only at their papers as they approached the table. Arya thought that might be a problem for her. She tried her best to keep cool when she took her place in front of the two men.

"Name?" the old man asked.

"Arry Snow," She answered. The general looked at her. She felt her heart quicken. She could not be found out.

"You look a bit on the short side," he commented.

"I am five foot three and a half," Arya affirmed. The officer looked her up and down assessing her.

"Well Arry," he said, "you understand that being part of the Lafayette Flying Crops means you are to be trained as a pilot."

"Yes sir."

"The problem is I can't have someone so young as a pilot," he said in a low voice. Her heart sank. She couldn't be a nurse, her brother and his friends were in the American infantry so she couldn't go there, and the navy was out of the question since her mother had so many connections there due to her Aunt Lysa and her grandfather. She was bound to be discovered if she went anywhere else. This was the only branch of the military she was sure she could hide in plain sight with no chance of discovery.

"I don't have to fly. I can do other things."

"The French forces only need pilots."

"I'm a fast learner."

"I don't know if the French care about that," the man said, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I don't even know what they're saying most of the time to be perfectly honest with you."

"I could probably tell you," Arya announced. "I had to learn French in—in school."

"General Yorren, sir," the young man spoke for the first time. Arya was surprised to hear he was American.

"Yes, Gendry, what is it you want?" Gendry looked at her, and she felt a chill hit her in her spine. He looked at her so clearly. It sent shivers along her nervous system. Please don't figure me out, she silently prayed.

"You say you can speak French?" Arya nodded eagerly.

'I think the French could use a boy like him. And if they can't, we can." He looked boldly at the general holding his gaze till he was sure he understood his meaning.

"You have a point," Yorren muttered thinking it over, "alright, you're assigned Arry Snow, pilot in training. Here is your uniform. Welcome to the Lafayette Flying Corps."

"Thank you, sir!" Arya did her best to keep from smiling.

"And Gendry, don't think you are off the hook. This boy is your responsibility. If he comes out incompetent, yellow bellied, or any other version of lousy, it's on you."

"Sir, yes, sir." Gendry replied. He clasped a hand on Arya's shoulder and steered her away from the other recruits. They went down a hallway and out a door. Arya clutched to her now folded clothes when she saw the dirty alley he led her to.

"What are we doing?"

"Okay, kid, listen—"

"Don't call me kid," Arya warned. Gendry's eyebrows knit together.

"You are a kid."

"Am not," she said stubbornly.

Gendry looked about before answering in a low voice, "well I can't call you boy seeing as you're a girl." Arya stomped on his foot with her boot.

"Uncalled for!" he groaned in pain.

"So was your insult," she shot back.

"It's not an insult if it's true," he said through his teeth as he looked her in the eye. The same chill returned to her spine. Her eyes widened. He knew.

"Yorren probably thinks you're twelve or thirteen due to that voice of yours and your overall look. He always tries to get those kids to go home. Not that it always works of course, but he tries. That's more you can say about him than others of his rank who just look at recruits as bodies instead of people…but I knew. I can tell you're different: bone structure, manner, and waistline—though you didn't do an awful job of hiding it—definitely a girl. It's a wonder you made it past the physical."

"I bribed a doctor," Arya said softly, "the same doctor got me false papers so I could be Arry Snow." Gendry stared at her in surprise. Then Gendry laughed. It was soft at first, but soon transformed into an unbridled booming sound, and it reminded Arya of home.

"You're smart, too. So: you can really speak French? That wasn't another lie?"

'I can,' she affirmed.

"Good. Here's what I'll do: I won't oust you. Your secret is safe with me. Plus, I'll teach you how to fly. In return, you teach me French. All the mechanics are French. I don't get very far since I can't communicate with them. With you, that'll change. Deal?"

'Deal," Arya replied, shaking his hand. Whether or not she could trust Gendry Arya didn't know, but she also didn't have much of a choice either.

'What's your real name, anyways?" he asked. Arya shook her head.

"Nope. Not right now. It's better for both of us if you don't know at the moment," she answered—the last thing she wanted was him knowing she was a Stark.

"That's fair," he conceded, "Arry it is then. Now if you get those new clothes on we can go have a bite to eat on me in celebration of our new partnership." He turned around as Arya quickly slipped out of her old clothes and into the new military issued bag, and came to Gendry's side as they walked out of the alleyway.

Gendry?" she tried. The new name sounded odd coming from her mouth, but she figured she'd grow used to it—might even grow to like it.

"yeah?"

'Why are you being so—nice to me?"

"Maybe then you'll be nice to me," he answered mischievously, pausing before letting go of a short laugh, "but in all seriousness, I know you have a lot to offer. You're eager, you speak French, and you know the benefits of hiding a knife in your boot." Arya flushed. She thought she'd hidden it well.

"You did hide it well," he answered, as if he could read her mind, "I'm just more observant than most."

"So…you're helping me because I'm useful?"

"When you put it like that it sounds kind of awful, doesn't it," he muttered, "but yeah, basically."

"I'll take it," Arya declared, unperturbed. Really she was relieved. Besides, if he was this observant in all situations, she was glad to have an equally useful ally in Gendry as he did with her.