Artillery thundered across the battlefield as German and American forces continued to exchange relentless fire. Shells tore through the air, crashing into trenches and fortifications, turning the earth into a chaotic storm of mud, smoke, and shattered steel. Thanks to the Americans securing the high ground, the earlier disadvantage had stabilized, preventing further collapse and allowing them to hold their ground.
The two sides were locked in a brutal stalemate, neither willing to yield.
Back at the American camp, Major General Pilder summoned Locke once again. The old general stood straight despite the exhaustion of prolonged command, holding a small case in his hands.
"Locke! This is the Combat Hero Medal issued to you by the government," he announced with unmistakable pride.
Locke accepted the five-pointed star badge without hesitation, fastening it neatly onto his chest. His expression remained calm, almost indifferent, as he looked at the man who had personally pushed his career forward at an astonishing pace.
"I'm assigning you to a training camp in New Jersey," Pilder continued, his tone shifting into something more deliberate. "You'll be serving as an instructor for the first batch of recruits. What do you think?"
"New Jersey boot camp?" Locke repeated, his eyes lighting up slightly.
A long-buried memory stirred in his mind. Before becoming a symbol, before becoming a super soldier, Captain America had been just another recruit—thin, overlooked, and struggling to survive training. If there was anywhere that man should appear before his transformation, it would be there.
"Yes," Pilder said, nodding with satisfaction. "That's where your abilities will truly shine. Your combat skill, your fearlessness—those are things worth passing on."
To him, Locke wasn't just a soldier. He was a masterpiece, a rare and brilliant talent that outshone everyone else. Compared to him, even officers Pilder once respected now seemed completely insignificant.
"Understood, General," Locke replied.
Soon after, an armored vehicle rolled out of the camp, carrying him away from the front lines. Pilder stood at a distance, watching as the vehicle disappeared into the horizon. Behind him, a group of field-grade officers finally let out quiet sighs of relief.
Locke had been like a mountain looming over them, suffocating in his presence. No matter their rank, they had all been overshadowed.
Inside the vehicle, the driver kept his posture rigid, hands steady on the wheel. Every so often, he glanced into the rearview mirror, stealing a look at the man seated behind him.
Locke sat with his eyes closed, his breathing even, as though he were asleep. Yet the soldier's gaze was filled with admiration and awe, unable to shake the image of the battlefield legend sitting just a few feet away.
Meanwhile, at the New Jersey training camp, excitement buzzed through the ranks of recruits. Groups of soldiers gathered together, their voices filled with anticipation as they exchanged rumors.
"Hey, you heard the news yet?" one of them said, his tone barely containing his excitement.
"Of course I did! It's all over the camp already!"
"They're saying the only combat hero in the entire U.S. Army is coming here. And he's going to be our instructor!"
"No way… we're actually going to meet the guy who crushed the German line?"
The chatter spread like wildfire.
At the edge of the crowd, a thin young man was pushed outward, struggling to keep his footing as stronger bodies jostled around him. He caught fragments of the conversation, his heart pounding as the words sank in.
"Combat hero…" he murmured quietly.
His eyes flickered with envy. His own frail body made it hard to imagine ever earning such a title, let alone standing on equal ground with someone like that.
The sharp voice of the training instructor suddenly cut through the noise, barking orders that sent the recruits scrambling back into formation. The crowd broke apart instantly, each soldier rushing to line up properly.
The thin young man hurried along with them, but being on the outside had its disadvantages. A larger recruit behind him shoved forward without hesitation, knocking him hard to the ground. The man didn't even glance back, offering only a rushed apology before continuing on.
Left behind, the young man forced himself up, brushing off the dirt with an awkward smile as he muttered that it was fine. By the time he reached the formation, everyone else was already in place.
As expected, he was singled out immediately.
"You think you've earned the right to stand here talking about Colonel Locke?" the instructor roared, stepping forward with a scowl. "Take a good look at yourself before you even open your mouth!"
Spittle flew as the man shouted, his tone harsh and cutting. Though his words were directed at the group, his gaze remained fixed on the thin recruit.
The instructor had always taken pride in his position, training strong, capable soldiers. But being assigned someone like this—someone so physically inadequate—had left him deeply dissatisfied. In his eyes, the young man didn't even qualify as a basic soldier, let alone someone worth training seriously.
And so, his standards for him were harsher than for anyone else.
Training resumed day after day, relentless and unforgiving.
It wasn't until Colonel Chester arrived with Carter and several others to inspect the camp that the routine was interrupted. The recruits snapped to attention, their expressions sharpening as they awaited judgment.
Chester walked along the line, his eyes sweeping across the soldiers. The tall, muscular recruits stood firm, their discipline evident. A look of approval crossed his face.
Then his gaze shifted downward.
He noticed the thin figure among them, chest rising and falling rapidly, his body visibly weaker than the others. The contrast was impossible to ignore.
The instructor quickly stepped forward, seizing the moment.
"Sir, I still believe this man is completely unfit to be a soldier," he said bluntly.
The words were sharp, leaving no room for interpretation.
The recruit's expression didn't change outwardly, but Chester, ever observant, caught the flicker of disappointment in his eyes.
A faint smile touched Chester's lips. Just as he was about to respond, a sudden wave of commotion spread through the camp.
Voices rose. Gasps followed.
Even the officers turned in unison.
Walking toward them was a tall, striking figure. His presence was calm, yet commanding, drawing every gaze as he approached.
Every soldier, every non-commissioned officer—without exception—looked at him with unmistakable respect.
Locke had arrived.
His image had already spread throughout the entire military. Newspapers had printed his face, stories of his exploits dominating headlines. It was impossible not to recognize him.
As he stepped forward, even Chester—currently the highest-ranking officer in the camp—moved to greet him personally.
"Colonel Locke," Chester said with a practiced smile, extending his hand. "Your arrival has set this entire camp on fire."
Locke returned the handshake calmly, his grip firm but unassuming.
"Colonel Chester," he replied, releasing the man's hand with ease. "I hope I'll be able to serve well as the new instructor."
Behind Chester, Carter and the others stared intently at Locke, barely concealing their excitement. They studied him closely, as if trying to uncover the secret behind the man who had torn through German defenses with nothing but sheer strength and will.
Locke's gaze drifted past them, settling briefly on the recruits.
He walked forward at an unhurried pace, passing the instructors and officers as though they weren't even there. His eyes moved across the line of soldiers, taking in their posture, their physique, their spirit.
Then, almost imperceptibly, his attention paused.
On the thin recruit.
The man stood straight despite everything, his eyes firm, refusing to waver.
The instructor noticed immediately. Seizing the chance, he raised his voice.
"Steve! You're dismissed. Return to camp and rest!"
The words hit like a hammer.
Steve's face went pale. He didn't need to be told what it meant. This wasn't concern—it was humiliation, a public declaration that he didn't belong here.
All eyes were on him now.
Even the man he admired most was watching.
For a moment, it felt like the world was pressing down on his chest, making it hard to breathe.
Still, he turned to leave.
But just as he moved—
Locke, standing at the front, casually reached to his side.
Without warning, he pulled out a grenade, yanked the pin free in one smooth motion, and tossed it directly into the middle of the recruits.
....
Join my exclusive P@treon community for 60+ thrilling chapters!
Link: pa*treon.com/MidnightWonder (Remove the *)
If you join now you will get 2 Chapters for free as well.
Don't miss out, join now!