Chapter 1: The Train Station Draft

The train station buzzed with voices and the metallic shriek of brakes, sweat trickling down your back as you dodged tired commuters. At sixteen, you were hustling newspapers at the train station, your voice ringing out above the crowd as you tried to make a few bucks before dinner. The air was thick with diesel fumes, sweat, and the mouthwatering tang of fried chicken drifting from a battered food cart. Then, out of nowhere, a military train thundered by—green and battered, paint peeling from the cars. An officer leaned out a window, waving you down with a sharp, almost impatient gesture. “Hey, kid! Hold those papers higher so I can see what you’ve got!” he barked. So you scrambled, standing on your tiptoes, the grit of the platform biting into your shoes, stretching the bundle of newsprint over your head, the Georgia sun hot on your neck. Without warning, the officer’s big hand clamped around your arm and yanked you right up into the moving train, the scent of metal and oil swallowing you whole. Your heart jackhammered in your chest, mind scrambling for what to say, but the world spun too fast.

Inside, chaos. Men in uniform shouting, boots stomping. You stumbled, half-blind, boots sliding on greasy metal, every shouted order bouncing off the steel walls. A heavy chain was snapped around your waist, cold and unyielding. You barely had time to breathe before you realized you weren’t going anywhere of your own choosing. The chain bit into your hips, and every jolt of the train rattled straight to your bones. You were dragged away—just another body for the conscript pile. You tried to protest, but your voice drowned in the clatter and nobody even looked your way. Your papers fluttered uselessly to the platform, one headline catching the wind, spinning away.