Chapter Thirty-One

PHILIP

march

Men and young boys from all over were crowded in the small facility for tests and information. Though many of them were around Philip's age, he didn't fit in. They were with their friends who had a passion for what they were walking into. Philip was terrified but he couldn't show it. His dad was standing over him and his mother was right next to Philip, gripping his hand. She would give him a small smile every now and then but Philip couldn't return the favor. He was here and everything was real. The past few months, starting from the day after his birthday, had been hard.

He turned eighteen in January which meant he was the perfect age for enlistment. He spent the rest of his time eating foods he would never think of since he hates the sight of fat people. Elowen told him that a part of his acceptance is in appearance which is information that they've collected from their research. Philip tried to gain as much weight as he could. Due to a fast metabolism and the sports he's been in since he could walk, the time frame to see muscle decay was too short.

The next step was the test. Philip could fail a test faster than a bat could flap its wing. That was his only way out of this; being stupid.

"Birth certificate." His father handed the man behind the counter Philip's birth record which the worker looked over briefly. "His age group is in line A6. There he will wait until being called for the physical examination. You are allowed to wait for him since his letter won't be in for a few weeks." The man laughed at his father's face that showed disbelief. "Did you think we just whisked them away on sight, sir?"

"It was a hope," his father whispered while walking over to the line of boys Philip was supposed to be waiting in. "Get over there boy and stop being slick, boy!"

Philip was slung into the group by his dad who walked off immediately. His mom stayed nearby with her purse clutched in her hand and a smile on her face. Her hair was curled tightly and pinned under. Philip took one last look at her just in case that man was lying and they shipped him off the second they found him fit.

"Hey, man!" Philip pushed his blond hair off his cheek while looking up at the dark-haired boy in front of him. "You look like a bummer." The male faked a frown. "You should be psyched! I get letters from my brother all the time about how the view around the world can't compare to old Oklahoma." He elbowed a guy next to him who fell out of the conversation with another group.

The second dark-haired boy with his sides shaved clean looked at the first boy and frowned. "'Sup, man?" The dark-haired boy pointed at Philip with a snicker. "Look at this kid! Looks like he'd seen a ghost. What's your name boy?"

"Phil..." The two other men nodded as if he said something deep. "Phil Hill."

The second man chuckled, "hey, that rhymes." His friend agreed. "I'm Eric and this is my friend, Bernard. We're enlisting with a few of our other friends." He hovered his hand over the group of boys roughhousing in the line. Philip watched the group with boredom on his face. "Hey! What do we say!"

As a response, half the people in line shout back. "The Vietnamese will pay!" Philip cringed when they chanted this three more times. The only reason they stopped was because Army officials told them to settle down.

Bernard looked at Philip with a toothy smile. "You don't want to be here do you?" Philip didn't move nor answer. "You're one of those cowards, huh? The ones who think America is just killing for the fun of it. Well, they came for us first! We didn't ask for them to kill our men, they just did it. If we don't stop them then they'll come to America and wipe us clean on our own land." He was salivating from the mouth just talking about it. This scared Philip because he wasn't like that. He wasn't them.

"It's about power. Not us... because we were already there. Before we even knew what it was. We were already there." Eric and Bernard stared at Philip as if he was insane and for a second, Philip believed their looks. He thought something was wrong with him for believing what he did. Then he looked at his mom who sat and waited for him to enter the room. She had the patience and she had love in her heart. Philip wondered why he was so much like his father. Why he was a screw-up and angry all the time. One thing he can tell himself is that he's never genuinely hated a person because of what they can't control. That, he got from his mother and he'll hold onto it for as long as his heartbeats.

She gave him a kiss on the forehead as he bit into his sandwich. His dad almost gagged at the sight. "He's a grown man. Quit coddling him, Veronica." Philip looked at his dad through hooded eyes filled with viciousness. Though Philip knew he wouldn't do anything about it, he had a lot of thoughts going through his head. "He's going to get out on the field and hide behind a damn-"

A loud knocking on the front door caused Harry to jump up from his seat. "Woah! Philip was so outstanding that they had to give us the news in person." He walked to the door with a skip in step.

Roy beat him to the window and was confused as to what he was seeing. "It's not for Philip."

Harry pushed Roy out the window and threatened him to go back to his seat. "Who said this was your business?" Veronica followed behind Harry as he opened the door. Two military men with a suit in one of their arms and a note in the other stood on their porch. Philip dropped his burger. This was mentioned in Elowen's research of the wars. "You've got the wrong house," Harry's eyes dropped to the floor as he tried to close the door.

"This is the home of Rick Hill?" Those words made Veronica fall to her knees. She clung to her husband's slacks for support.

When Rick went off to war, he didn't have a home to claim. He often slept on Harry's couch when he was jumping from job to job. The war was his escape to get off Harry's back and for the years being, it worked. They've heard nothing but positive feedback from Rick, but his letters were never on a schedule. It was normal for them to go months without hearing from him. This kind of letter was the last thing they wanted.

"Yes. It is." They gave the uniform and letter over to Harry before marching back to their vehicle. Veronica picked herself up off the floor as Harry's shaky hands rubbed across what he was holding. His lips stayed straight as a line when he placed the items on the coffee table. "Your uncle died for us. Maybe one day you'd be man enough to do the same."

Harry attended dinner as if nothing happened seconds before. Philip was raw at the words that escaped his father's lips. "I don't know why I thought for a split second that if you can't grieve over your son that you'd grieve over your brother."

Harry looked at his son sideways. "Excuse me?!"

"My uncle died in that war but for what? The country is still the same. The people are still stupid. The laws still feel like barriers. What's worse is that we're all in portable cages and I'm the only one who can see the bars. Here I am about to die in that war against my will. But I'm still going to crash in this fucking cage. You want to know what makes it sicker?" Harry's face was boiling red. "You're in it with me. I could cut my body into a million pieces and you'd still be in it with me."