I know it isn't [i]exactly[/i] what you demanded but I hope it will suffice.

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Joining the war effort was on nineteen-year-old Benjamin's mind since the attack on Pearl Harbor had been announced.  Selective Services had begun only two years before so he was already signed up to be drafted.  Already, people he knew had been pulled into service so it only felt like a matter of time before his number was pulled as well.  Since then, he had listened to others talk about what it meant to be drafted.  He had considered it his duty to step up for his country... although he didn't enjoy the idea of getting shot to death on some godless field across the sea.  Since the attack, everybody knew the fighting was going to be in Europe and in the Pacific.  Some of the things he had heard were enlightening.

Essentially, getting drafted wasn't great.  Not everybody seemed to take the same level of pride in their country.  More and more, he was beginning to dislike the idea of being stuffed into some random unit with people who might never have fired a gun in their lives.

Benjamin's family were Christian and had worked hard for everything they owned.  When he wasn't doing his school work, he was bailing hay or tending to equipment on the farm or cutting firewood from the wood patch father seemed intent on clearing.  He loved his family and his home state of Kentucky, although, truth be told he had never visited any of the other states and barely set foot in any of the neighboring counties.  Bullitt County seemed plenty big enough for him.

Today, he was on his way to town for his father.  He took his bike with a little wire basket fixed to the front of it.  He was going to ride out to Paroquet Springs for some mineral water so mah would leave his dad alone about it.  Since he was out this way, he decided to stop by the post office and see what news there was.

No sooner had he arrived at the post office than he heard, "Hey, you're the Locklear boy, an't you?"  The mailman had just walked out the front door as if he had been waiting for him.  "Benjamin, right?"

"That's right," he said, puffing himself up with pride and no small amount of curiosity.  "Anything new going on?"

"As a matter of fact, I have a letter addressed to you!"

This caught the young man's attention.

"Oh yeah?  Whose it from?"

"The President himself, my boy.  I've seen enough of these lately to know what it means."

"The President," Benjamin asked.

"Yep.  It's a draft notice.  It would take me 'til tomorrow to deliver it; but since you're here, I can hand it to you now."

The young man blinked and looked down, his mind racing.  He was being drafted?  The words from his elders raced through his mind and, after a moment, he lifted his head to meet the letter carrier's eyes.

"No," he said.  "You deliver that letter normally."

He chuckled and began to say something but Benjamin had already ridden off.  The young man rode with a purpose through the small town until he found the local recruiter's office.  He hopped off the bike and leaned it unceremoniously against the side of the building then hurried inside.

"Can I help you, boy," said a uniformed man sitting behind his desk.

"I think you can."

The Sergeant gave him a curious look and sat up just a bit straighter.

"What is the most elite unit I can sign up for?  If I'm going to war, I'll be damned if I'm doing it alongside some conscripts!"
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