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Another rejection. Another bullshit reason why he wasn't fit to serve in the Army.
Gritting his teeth, Chris Wondolowski collected his paperwork and strode angrily out of the enlistment office. No matter what he tried, it was the same thing. Yet another rejection.
"Are you so eager to die, young man?" an accented voice asked mildly from behind him as he stopped to collect his thoughts near the doorway of the small mercantile.
Turning to look over his shoulder, he saw an older man with a friendly looking face.
"My people are warriors." He said simply. "We fight when we have to and this war is something that's affecting the world. Why wouldn't I want to be a part of that? Besides, I hate bullies regardless of where they're from."
"Warriors, you say?" The man seemed genuinely interested and motioned for Chris to come closer.
Eying him before taking a couple steps toward him, Chris nodded, an almost proud tilt to his chin.
"I'm half Kiowa. To my tribe I'm Bau Daugh. It means 'warrior who comes over the hill'. I can't just sit by when I know I can help. Do something."
He felt as though he was being studied and it made Chris a little bit nervous. Who was this person? Why was he so curious about this?
"What if I told you there was a way I could make it so that you could enlist?"
"I'd ask you what you want." Chris said immediately and the man chuckled, seeming more amused at his own thoughts than what Chris was saying.
"Very good answer. What is your other name, Warrior who comes over the hill?"
"Christopher Elliott Wondolowski. My dad and his side of the family call me Chris."
The man nodded thoughtfully, reaching out to offer Chris his hand. "I am Dr. Abraham Erskine and if you are willing, Mr. Wondolowski, I will help you go and fight."
Taking Dr. Erskine's hand and shaking it as though sealing a pact, Chris couldn't help feeling apprehensive.
"No, Bau Daugh!" his mother said sharply and Chris just shook his head as he continued to place his belongings into a bag. She wasn't exactly thrilled about his going off and while his dad didn't really say too much, Chris knew that it was embarrassing sometimes for John Wondolowski to have a perfectly healthy son at home when so many people didn't.
She grabbed at his arm and he sighed.
"Let him go, Janet." John said quietly and mother and son turned to look at him in unison, a scowl on his mother's face and a puzzled look on Chris'. Rarely did John insert himself into the battles between his strong willed wife and their equally strong willed son. Chris' younger brother Steven was much more calm and easy going.
"He's a boy -" Janet began and John shook his head.
"He's 23. He's old enough to know his own mind and if this is what he wants, then you need to let him go."
Looking like a storm cloud, Janet stormed out of the kitchen and Chris wondered if this was really all worth it. His mother's anger would cool eventually because it always did but he hated knowing that he was upsetting her. Still, as a child of two worlds, he always felt that he never completely belonged in either one and all he wanted to do was belong, even if it was just for a couple of years as a part of the United States Army.
His mother's family lived on the reservation land while they lived on the outskirts of town. He had grown up differently than most of his cousins and other members of his tribe. While technically an American, Chris had never felt like he was a part of that legacy.
"She'll come around but don't forget to write." John said wryly and that made Chris smile slightly to himself.
"I will." he promised and John offered his hand to his son for a manly shake which Chris accepted.
It was hard to be leaving Oklahoma. It was all that he had ever known but he had meant what he'd told Dr. Erskine. He just wanted a chance to fight for the place where he lived. His people had suffered through invaders to their lands and he could empathize with the people of Poland, of Czechoslovakia. It was obvious that Hitler wasn't going to be satisfied with just taking over Europe. He would push everywhere and Chris intensely hated people who used their power and force to get what they wanted. He wasn't about to sit back and give up.
"Are you sure about this, Chris?" John asked as his son got the last of his clothes bundled up.
"I don't know, Dad. But what I do know is that I'm tired of watching my friends go off and not be out there too."
Clint Dempsey, Tim Howard and Joe Jones were already overseas and Chris always hated going to the mailbox because he never knew if there was going to be a letter saying one of his friends had been killed in action.
So now it was going to be his turn. He just hoped that he would be able to make it back in one piece to them.
"Honest answer. Just remember to be yourself."
But who was he? To the Kiowa and his mother, he was Bau Daigh. To the white man and his father, he was Chris Wondolowski. How could he ever figure that out?
He was going to have to, thought. Maybe his military service could be the starting point of that.
Sleep didn't come easily for him and in the morning, he trudged out to the kitchen.
His mother wasn't speaking but as he sat down to eat the breakfast that was waiting for him, he noticed a small, folded piece of paper near his plate and picked it up, unfolding it. He recognized the painting skill of his grandfather immediately and he had to swallow down the lump in his throat.
On the paper was a simple painting of a warrior coming over the top of a hill. It was him, the literal meaning of his name and he knew that Grandpa Bill had intended it to act as a talisman for him.
He carefully put it between the pages of a small book so that it would be kept flat and not get wrinkled or damaged while he traveled.
"Be careful, Bau Daigh." His mother said finally when she came to collect his plate as soon as he was finished.
"I'll try, Mom." He answered. There was no way he could promise any more than that and even though Janet's lips pursed, she didn't push him on it.
"Let's go, son." John said from the doorway and Chris stopped to kiss his mother's cheek softly before following his dad out to the car so he could be driven to the train station to meet Dr. Erskine. All he knew so far was that they were going to New York City and from there, he'd be heading to some kind of specialized military camp.
The train was a novel experience for him and as he watched his father getting smaller and smaller in the distance, Chris couldn't help wondering if that would be the last time he would ever see him again.