Chapter Text
Prologue
In retrospect Peter knew that it wasn’t a good idea to go to war. In fact, everyone he knew begged him not to go saying that it would most definitely mean death. Peter had to find out the hard way that there are fates worse than death. He went because they needed the money; his Aunt May and he were barley scraping by as is and they were still affected by the depression years earlier.
His aunt didn’t deserve to live in a rundown shitty apartment and to go hungry because Peter knew that she would skip all her meals if it meant that he could eat. Even if they could only afford to have a singular meal a day. He lived his whole life in the economic collapse, but he would do anything to make sure that his Aunt lived a better life. Especially after all that they had been through with Uncle Ben.
Pearl Harbor happened and Peter was 12 and there had been nothing that he could do. Everyone was gearing up for a fight that Peter couldn’t be apart of because not only was he to young but he was often sickly.
In September of 1942 after Perter had just turned 14 they announced that they would take boys that were 16 years or older provided that they had parental consent. Peter had known that this was going to be his only opportunity to enlist even if he had to fib a little on the enlist form. You see it had been common knowledge that an enlisted man could make 50 whole dollars a month for joining up. That could do wonders for May, she could afford to actually have regular meals! And with him gone then that would be one less thing for her to worry about as well.
So Peter had gone down to the registers office and filled out his paperwork lying about his age and forging his Aunts signature. In truth it wasn’t all that hard, the hard part came next when he had to have a physical exam. Peter knew that he would be home free if he could just pretend to be a normal healthy 16-year-old in front of the physician.
He must have been pretty convincing or they were in desperate need of boys on the front lines. Peter likes to pretend that it was both, but if he hadn’t been such a good liar then maybe things wouldn’t have ended up the way they did and he would still be at home with his Aunt.
Peter remembers so clearly when he told his Aunt that he was going to war and she was less than thrilled.
“You will die Peter; do you understand that?! Then I will have no one left and I will be all alone!” she had screamed at him. Peter wasn’t going to lie and say that hadn’t of stung because it hit to close to home. He then said something to her that he regrets even now.
“That’s not true May you still have family out there, I have had to watch every single parent figure die and you are all I have left. I am not going to sit here and watch you wither away to noting because you are giving up everything for me. If can make things a fraction of a bit better for you then I will” he had said sourly.
“Peter I…” she said to him, “I’m not going to pretend to not understand how you feel because I do sweetheart. But going to war isn’t the only answer, I am sure that there is something that you can do that is here. Besides you are too young to go to war.”
“May it’s not just about the money. I can’t just sit here and do nothing when all those good men out there are dying. Not after Uncle Ben.”
May had started to sob and had pulled him in close to give him a hug and Peter even shed some tears of his own. He is glad now that he had held his Aunt close taking in all the comfort that he could while he still had it.
Peter had told his best friend Harry next and it didn’t go as well as he had hope it would. Harry never had understood Peters struggles; you see Harry was really well off. His dad owned the Osborn company which dealt in technologies. The company does really well second only to Stark Industries that manufactures most if not all the weapons and tech for the Allied forces.
Harry and Peter had become friends because they went to school together; whatever Peter lacked in physical strengthen he more than make up for it in knowledge. He was first in his class and only slightly behind him was Harry.
Basically when Peter told him that he was going to war, and had lied on the enlistment forms just so that he could get in, Harry was enraged. He told Peter that he would be killed immediately and that he wasn’t nearly old enough. He even went as far to tell Peter that if he decided to go through with it he would call the Military Police and tell them the truth about Peter.
He begged and begged Harry to be on his side, he told him that his Aunt really needed the money. There was no life left for him here if his Aunt died because he couldn’t help her.
“Beside Harry,” he had said, “There are men laying down their lives, I got no right to do any less than them.”
“Why can’t you work in a factory? There are so many important jobs Pete,” Harry told him exasperated.
“You want me to pick up scraps in my little red wagon, come on Harry. I have got to do this, not just for my Aunt but for the people out there who are dying to stop the tyranny in Europe!” Peter had shot back.
“Can’t I just give you and your Aunt a little loan? I don’t want to lose you Peter,” Harry had asked as a last attempt to get him to stay. Peter just shook his head and patted Harry on the shoulder.
---------
Before he knew it Peter started his basic training and it was he own personal hell every single day. He would think about everything that Aunt May and Harry had said and he wondered if they had been right all along.
He was the slowest most of this time when his squad would run because his asthma would act up. He was so scrawny that he could barely keep up when they did push-ups and sit-ups or anything really physical. Honestly Peter wondered why they hadn’t kicked him out.
Peter remembers one night after a 5 mile run with his squad followed by a barbed wire crawl, he and his training squad had had been given some down time. It was a blessing and a curse for Peter, because he got to bathe but he had to be careful of all the other men around.
Being his young self he was routinely the punching bag or the one to be picked on. Especially when it was his fault that they had to do extra work because he couldn’t keep up. This particular night Peter remembers that a couple guys from his squad must have gotten fed up with him making the do extra work because they had cornered him in the showers.
Peter knows now that he should have seen it coming, he knows now that men will do brutal things when pushed to their limits. They grabbed Peter’s arms and as much as Peter tried to struggle he couldn’t get free. The men had repeatedly punched him in the gut. Peter remembered not being able to breathe through the pain exploding in and around his gut.
There had been one swift punch to his face when it all stopped. Peter felt his body give out as he fell onto his knees.
“What the fuck do you punks think you’re doing huh!?” a loud voice had broken through to Peter. Someone had tossed a towel at him to shield his nakedness, he wrapped it around his body thankful that someone came in to stop the beating.
“Sargent Barnes sir…” the man never really got to finished his sentence because the office was barking orders at them. One line stuck out in Peters head even now.
“Why don’t you pick on someone your own size huh,” then he physically kicked the men out of the stalls.
“You know kid, I literally said the same thing to a friend of mine a couple months ago. What’s your name son?” Peter got to his feet and with one hand holding his towel and with the other he saluted the officer.
“Private Frist Class Peter Parker Sir,” Peter said.
“Nice to meet you Parker, I am Sargent Barnes. But most people round here call be Bucky. Come on let’s get you clean up kid,” Bucky had told him.
Even though he got the crap beat out of him, he was glad that it had lead him to his new friend. Bucky was about to save his skin multiple times. He would have gladly taken the beating if it meant that he got Bucky on his side.
That was how little Private Frist Class Peter Parker found himself in a new squad, the 107th, under direct command of Sargent James Buchanan Barnes shipping out to Italy at 15 years old in September 1943.