Chapter 1
“Son, do you wanna serve your country on the most important battlefield of the war?”
“Sir, that's all I want.”
“Then, congratulations. You just got promoted.”
~
Steve looked up at The Stage Door Canteen and then back down at the slightly crumpled bit of paper he’d been worrying in his pocket all morning. He’d definitely got the address right – he could trust his eyesight now, and wasn’t that something – but a gaudy theatre-come-clubhouse wasn’t where he’d expected to be sent for a meeting about working with Special Services. He frowned at the glitzy signage and bunting as he pushed the door open, wondering if he’d been given the wrong address. A pretty blonde girl looked up from a high-countered corner desk just to the left as he stepped inside.
“Good morning,” she said as she stood from her seat and flashed him a smile. Steve dropped his gaze immediately - she was beautiful and her smile was dazzling and this was right about the time Steve usually started making a fool of himself in front of gorgeous dames. He swallowed and glanced back up.
“Erm – hi...”
She leaned forward against the counter and looked up at him, eyes sparkling. “Hi.”
Her eyes travelled appreciatively across the line of his shoulders and down over his chest. She smiled again when she finally dragged her gaze up to meet his. “What can I do for you, sir?”
Steve shifted awkwardly, feeling the tips of his ears burning. He cleared his throat. “I – er – I don’t know if I’m in the right place, actually... I’m looking for the Special Services office? A – uh – “ - he nervously fished the scrunched bit of paper from his pocket and checked it again – not that he needed to, he knew what was on there, had memorized it like a photograph – but he needed an excuse to look away from the openly admiring expression on this pretty broad’s face because it was making him shake and super soldier’s didn’tshake.
He held up the little note in front of him like he could hide behind it. “A, um, Mr. Dewey?” he managed.
She plucked the note from his fingers and bit her lip as she read it. “Oh, you’re in the right place,” she told him with another wide smile, “C’mon. I’ll show you to his office.” She came out from behind the desk and beckoned him down the hall.
“Thanks,” stammered Steve, following her and almost tripping over nothing on the carpet. Smooth, Rogers.
She threw him an amused glance over her shoulder, eyebrows raised. “You’re welcome, Mr...?”
“Rogers – Steve,” he amended as they reached the end of the hallway and took a right. He tried not to stare at her – the gold curls spilling down her back, the navy blue skirt hugging curvy hips, full lips tugging into a knowing smile as she turned to look at him over her shoulder again. “I’m Dotty,” she said.
Steve blushed, feeling caught out. "Its a pleasure to meet you, ma'am,” he managed, keeping his eyes resolutely on the floor in front of him. He cleared his throat. “Thanks for, uh, showing me down here - “
She laughed, a soft twinkling sound. “Sure thing, Steve.”
They came to a stop outside a door marked T. Dewey and Dotty knocked lightly before cracking the door open.
“I’m sorry, Mr Dewey, sir, there’s a Mr Rogers here to see you.”
“Send him in, Dotty.”
She pushed the door all the way open and gave Steve another bright smile.
“Thanks,” was all he could muster before stepping inside, and then the door was closing behind him and a short man with black hair, a tiny moustache, and an amused expression stood from his desk and greeted him enthusiastically.
“Come in, come in – take a seat! I’m Thomas Dewey. Heard a lot about you from the Senator - and the newspapers!”
He smiled cheerfully as Steve took a seat across from him.
“I’m Steve Rogers. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“So, you’re the man of the hour,” Dewey went on, shifting some papers out of his way. There was a newspaper near his elbow with a picture of a herculean looking man towering over a bedraggled and besuited man on the ground at the docks. It took Steve a full minute to recognize himself.
“All over the newspapers!” Dewey grinned. “Taking down that Nazi spy – I’ll say, when Senator Brandt told me you’d offered your services I couldn’t have been more thrilled.”
Steve flushed, gaze dropping bashfully. “Just doing my part, sir.”
Dewey nodded approvingly. “As we all should. Now, I hope you’ve packed your bags already because you’ll be shipping out with the girls tomorrow morning - “ He dug around in his desk draws, frowning as he scratched around for something. “ - it’s not complicated and they’ll show you the ropes – this troupe’s been on dozens of tours already - “
Steve blinked at him, nonplussed.
“ - ‘course I’ll introduce you in a minute – darnit. Where’d I put that contract?”
He pulled open another drawer and then grunted in victory. “Here it is!” He pushed the contract across the desk toward Steve and sat back in his chair.
Steve glanced down at it.
National War Fund
Special Services – United States Army
United Service Organizations Contract of Employment...
He looked back up at Dewey. “Sir, did you say 'girls'?”
Dewey blinked and then nodded. “I did.”
“I wasn’t aware there was a women’s regiment on active duty,” Steve said slowly.
“Regiment?” Dewey repeated, bemused. “Well, I wouldn’t call it a regiment, per se.” He got up. “C’mon! I’ll introduce you to the troupe and then you can sign that and leave it with me.”
Steve got hastily to his feet, tucking the contract under his arm and following Dewey back out into the hall. They carried on past his office and took a left through a set of double oak doors. Steve chewed on his lip, trying to choose the most useful of his eleven hundred questions. Were they sending him to work with a female military unit? Dewey had said it wasn’t exactly a regiment. Were they a group of spies? A division of Secret Services, like Peggy? Brandt said he’d been promoted – were they putting him in charge of this group of women? Steve imagined for a second trying to give orders to a whole platoon of Peggy’s and had to bite down on a hysterical laugh. The continent would sink before Peggy or any women like her took orders from a meathead like himself.
“Now, there’ll be a few other fellows joining you on tour from time to time, but mostly it’ll be you and the girls,” Dewey explained as they marched down the passage. “They’re quite relieved to have a permanent – and it’s just as well – some of the places they’ve ended up the folk weren’t so polite, if you catch my meaning.” He gave Steve a serious look as they came to a halt outside a large red door. “They could use some muscle to keep things... decent.”
So Steve was being assigned to protect them. He could do that.
“And son, that includes you,” Dewey clarified, cocking an eyebrow. “I won’t tolerate any funny business with these ladies. You understand? I can’t afford any VDs or, God forbid, any knock-ups!”
“Of course,” Steve said, baffled.
Dewey fixed him with a hard look. “I need your word on this Rogers. Can I count on you?”
“You can, sir," Steve assured him.
Dewey searched his face a minute and then, apparently satisfied, nodded once. “Good. Alright, let me introduce you.”
He pulled the door open and grinned broadly. “Morning, ladies! I beg your pardon for the interruption, but I’d like to introduce you to the newest member of the Star Spangled Singers!”
Steve’s mouth fell open as he looked beyond Dewey to the group of fifteen or so show girls dressed in tiny, shiny, red, white, and blue outfits, all in various stages of dance practice. He gaped, from the pretty girls all beginning to smile widely as their eyes landed on Steve, to Dewey who was grinning next to him. After a moment of excited whispering, the girls started coming forward.
“This is Steve Rogers,” Dewey told them proudly.
“Are you the man who caught that awful German spy?” one girl asked, wide eyed.
“The very same,” Dewey answered for him.
“You’ve been all over the newspapers!” another girl exclaimed. “Gosh, you’re some kind of famous round town!”
“Think of the bonds we’ll sell, girls!” Dewey crooned happily. He turned to Steve. “Rogers, you’re our greatest asset yet.”
Steve was so completely flummoxed, he was barely able to get words out as Dewey introduced each of the girls.
“This is Anna, Betty, Lissy and Evelyn,” Dewey told him, pointing out the four girls closest to them.
“I’m Rosie, and this is my sister Cat,” said another from behind them.
“Clara’s our choreographer,” a rosy-cheeked blonde told him excitably, “And this is Faye, Adeline, Bonnie, Carrie, Elsie, Goldie, and June!”
Steve tried to smile politely at each of them while his stomach swooped with nerves. He'd barely managed a coherent sentence under one pretty girl's admiring gaze. Fifteen of them? Bright-eyed, pink-cheeked, and ogling him in a way dames had never ogled him before? It was making him dizzy.
“And you’ve met Dotty,” Dewey finished, sweeping his hand to the right where Dotty was just stepping in from what must have been a changing room because she was now wearing red, white and blue just like the other girls. She gave him a coy smile and wiggled her fingers as she came to stand at the back of the group.
“H-hi,” Steve managed.
“Girls, I trust you’ll teach Steve a thing or two before you move out tomorrow," Dewey entreated. He turned to Steve. "You're a fast learner, aren't you Steve?"
Steve looked up. “Sir?”
“Good. I expect you to take good care of these girls,” he said firmly. “Now, come and borrow a pen so you can sign on the dotted line!” And with that, Dewey strode from the room.
Steve gawped a moment longer at the girls and then suddenly found his feet, hurrying from the room down the passage after Dewey. He flipped open the contract he was holding and shuffled through the pages, skim-reading the details of his employment as Dewey prattled about show times and bus departures.
- Special Services – Entertainment – War Bonds - USO Campaign - Camp Shows – Performer -
His heart sank so rapidly and so heavily Steve thought it would fall straight through the floor.
This couldn’t...
It couldn’t...
“Sir?” he implored, when he at last found his voice. “I – this is not – I didn’t expect to be performing - “
“Oh, there’s nothing to it,” Dewey said airily, “Not when you look like that, anyhow!” And he laughed.
“Sir, I was given to understand I’d be serving in the army, on active duty.”
Dewey held his office door open for Steve. “Son, I was given to understand you volunteered to work with Special Services.”
“I did – I mean, I – I just thought I’d be shipped out to fight, not to – to sing and dance!”
Dewey took a seat behind his desk and fixed Steve with a thoughtful look. “Son, I realize that the administrative side of the war isn’t as glorious as wading knee deep through the blood of our enemies,” and here he paused to cock a sharp eyebrow at Steve, “But without the funding the USO raises for the war, there would be no war, you understand? There would be no defence of this country. Hitler would have won already.”
Steve stared at him.
“The war is being fought by soldiers, but soldiers need guns. Guns need bullets. Bullets are bought with bonds. So you see, the most crucial part of this equation starts with us. And you - “ He got up and came round to lean against his desk and fold his arms. “ - you are something of a celebrity since your stunt out there at the docks with that Nazi spy. Think of the crowds we can draw with you in our line up. A few months with you touring – showing folk why they need to support us – raising morale among the troops – what could be more important than that?”
Steve faltered. “I don’t know, Mr Dewey, I... you really think it would make such a difference? Me... singing and dancing?”
“Oh you won’t be singing and dancing – that’s for the girls. You’ll be knocking out Adolf Hitler – I’ve seen the rehearsals – it’s a real crowd puller!”
Steve opened his mouth and shut it again several times, bewildered. “But... do you really think this is the best use of... well, this?” he said at last, gesturing vaguely at himself.
Dewey pursed his lips. “Think of it like this. You do a couple tours, raise us triple the money we woulda had without you, and you show Senator Brandt and your COs just what you can do for your country.” He looked Steve over. “My understanding is you came from some kinda experimental training program – God knows what – but you gotta show them you’re more than that. You think they’ll be able to ignore a man who’s put a gun in the hand of every soldier on the front line in just a couple months?”
Steve gave him a sharp look. He'd been unaware that Dewey was clued in on Project Rebirth. He tamped down the hot rush of anger he felt. All the lengths he’d gone to hadn’t proven he was ready to fight for his country – all the enlisting and being rejected, lying on his forms, signing up for an experimental program that had changed him down to the nucleus of his very cells – none of that was enough, no, but this – flouncing around on a stage and serving donuts – this would prove he was willing to do his duty?
“I mean, what other options do you have, son?” Dewey sighed. “It’s this or Alamagordo, son. I’m sorry. For the record, I’m on your side. I think you should show ‘em up. You do this, you become the face of the war effort – hell, not even the President’ll be able to ignore you then.”
Steve shook his head. He’d really thought for a minute he was going to get what he’d always wanted. God if his ma could see him now. He thought of her down at the old military hospital, nursing old soldiers from the Great War, doing her part. How often she’d talked about the lack of supplies. How they didn’t have enough medicine and morphine and bandages. His chest squeezed up a little. He sighed. It wasn’t how he’d imagined serving in the army, and certainly wasn’t what he’d been created for. But if Dewey was right about how much money he could help bring in for the war effort, and if it was only temporary, if it proved to Brandt and Philips that he could do his duty, well...
He looked down at the contract. Captain Philips had been clear enough. It really was this or Alamagordo.
You're an experiment. You're going to Alamagordo.
I asked for an army and all I got was you.
You are not enough.
He picked up the pen and scrawled his signature on the dotted line.
Dewey beamed.