The journey wasn't actually that far; Pennsylvania is just south of New York State, and Philadelphia is 155 kilometers from New York City. It's just that there were no highways back then, and the fastest way to get there was by train, usually taking about four hours.
Now, during wartime, military supply trains have top priority, so the train he was on had to yield to almost every other train they encountered. By the time Steve arrived in Philadelphia, it was already the next morning.
However, Steve couldn't sleep at all during the journey. His heart was filled with excitement and anticipation for the military camp. He just stared eagerly at the blackness outside the window, his eyes bloodshot from staying awake.
Arriving at the Philadelphia train station, there were indeed military-arranged vehicles waiting. All he needed to do was to show his notice, and he boarded a truck, preparing to head to the camp.
As expected, the carriage was filled with tall and strong muscular men, overflowing with testosterone. He felt a bit embarrassed needing the help of a soldier to get on board.
But most others just glanced at him without much reaction. Only one guy, who looked like a bulldog, spat at him disdainfully, his eyes full of contempt.
The vehicle started moving soon after, and the carriage was relatively empty. Including him, there seemed to be only about twenty new recruits.
The green canvas-covered carriage blocked any view of the surrounding scenery, leaving only the yellow dirt road behind them visible. Some small grass was sprouting by the roadside, and fresh green buds were emerging on the branches.
With the shaking and bumping, Steve felt like he was on a small boat in a storm, and soon his face turned ashen, as if something was about to force its way out of his body!
"Ugh!!!"
With the last bit of willpower, he crawled to the back of the carriage and, like a rocket booster, projected his last night's dinner onto the road behind.
It was just instant noodles and some other stuff, which certainly left his comrades with no good impression.
"Hey, man!"
"Uh...ugh."
"That's disgusting."
Even though those people hadn't said anything, Steve could tell from their expressions what they wanted to convey.
It was already bad enough to have a lung case like him enlist with them, but now it seemed like this guy would die right there in the car before even reaching the battlefield. That was no good omen.
The guy who spat at him earlier immediately started yelling.
"Damn it, I thought I joined the US Army, and yet here are such weaklings!"
The contempt on his face grew more pronounced. He loved bullying people, often picking on those weaker than himself for amusement.
He was tall and strong, muscles formed on his face like a bulldog. He had earned a 1A rating in recruitment, selected by the Strategic Science Corps.
"Hey, enough. We're all going to be comrades. When you get to the battlefield, trust me, you're a bigger target than he is."
A deep voice came from the darkness within the carriage, where it seemed like no one was sitting.
The bulldog turned his head, straining to make out a figure in the darkness. He spat again.
"What? You want to stick up for him, Black Man? You can call me Master Hodge; just lick my boots, and let me have some fun with your black ass, and I'll let him go. Haha."
The surrounding people stifled laughter, well aware that outside of the army, Black Men are supposed to sit at the back of vehicles, not on equal footing with White People.
But only in the army would you see such spectacle, right?
"Want to have fun with my black ass? Let's see if you're up to it...."
The Black Man in the carriage stood up. He wasn't as tall or as strong as Hodge, but his expression was calm, as if nothing could ever faze him.
He moved across the bumpy carriage like it was solid ground, standing over Hodge.
"You son of a...."
Before Hodge could react, the Black Man suddenly lifted his knee and slammed it into Hodge's chin. The force sent Hodge's head colliding with the vehicle railing, his eyes rolled back, and he passed out with a grunt.
The carriage turned silent instantly, replacing the previous laughter. Only the sound of Steve retching could be heard, along with the landscape flying past behind the vehicle.
The Black Man brushed his curly hair, surveying the people in the carriage, and patted non-existent dust off his pants before asking calmly.
"Anyone else interested in my skin color... or my ass?"
Naturally, no one answered. That lightning-fast move had proven he was not someone to be trifled with.
Everyone in the vehicle was a civilian before, completely unable to match someone clearly professionally trained in combat. Though annoyed by the Black Man's show of power, they could only suppress their displeasure.
"Alright then, we're done here."
The Black Man walked toward Steve at the back of the carriage. Steve was leaning on the rear guard rail, eyes closed and panting.
He didn't even dare open his eyes; he was just that dizzy.
"How are you, buddy, are you okay?"
The Black Man squatted beside him, patting his shoulder and turning his head slightly to avoid the smell of vomit.
"I'm fine, thanks. I heard you speak up for me earlier."
Steve spoke haltingly, forcing a smile that looked worse than crying.
The Black Man casually tilted his head. To him, someone like Hodge wasn't much; he, like Steve, faced discrimination—Steve for his physique and he for his skin color.
Both shared the same plight.
The Black Man leaned in closer, lowering his voice to blend with the rumble of the truck engine.
"If you ever want to take a shot at his back on the battlefield, count me in."
"What? No, I wouldn't do that."
Steve was startled; shooting a comrade in the back was too extreme.
He turned his head, eyes wide, looking at the Black Man behind him.
The Black Man remained expressionless, as if he hadn't said anything at all.
"Just kidding. See, I scared you, and now you're no longer feeling dizzy, right?"
Indeed, the dizziness was gone, but Steve was unsure if he was truly joking, since there was no hint of humor in his expression.
Hopefully just a joke....
"Uh, alright, I'm not really good with battlefield jokes, but thanks anyway." Steve climbed up from the floor of the carriage and returned to his seat, while the Black Man naturally sat beside him.
The Black Man wore old clothes, suggesting a poor background, yet he sat upright as if wearing a high-end suit.
Steve was filled with curiosity about him, wiping his hand on his clothes before extending it toward the Black Man.
"My name is Steve, from Brooklyn."
The Black Man reached out and shook his hand, giving it a light shake: "A New Yorker, huh? You're lucky. I don't even know where I'm from, but I'm lucky enough to have a name: Nick Fury."