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Summary
It’s 1943, and they’re a long way from Brooklyn, but some things never change– Steve still can’t stay away from a fight, and Bucky still can’t let him go it alone, even when fists are replaced with bullets and punches with bombs.
The first mission of the Howling Commandos.
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“Dugan, human lives have validity beyond the side you pick in war. We’re not taking any we don’t have to tomorrow, and if you’ve got a problem with that, get out of my camp.”
“What if we accidentally get one of them in the shoulder and they bleed out?” inquired Morita brightly. “Will we be court-martialed?”
There was a long pause before Steve let out something between a sigh and a laugh. “Just aim away from vital organs, all right?”
“Is the dick considered a vital organ?” Bucky asked politely. “Askin’ for a friend.”
“Buck, please.”
“HELLO, NAZIS,” declared the voice brightly, and Bucky recognized it immediately. “WE WIN!”
Falsworth grinned. “It’s from the Great War. I remembered seeing something about this in the papers when I was a kid: the Allies took this whole area down in a night. No time to pack anything up. It was Canadians, mostly. Those stubborn fuckers.”
“What’d they do,” asked Dum Dum, “politely ask the Germans to leave?”
Bucky looked up to the ceiling, rifle in hand, as he spoke up. “The Canadians did a lot. They retook Vimy after France, Britain, and the US failed. They held the line at Ypres when everyone else was choking and dying. They carried out the most successful military offensive of all time in the Hundred Days-- won us the war.”
Morita coughed, and Bucky might have imagined it, but it sounded a lot like “geek.”
Dum Dum looked at Bucky in wide-eyed surprise for a moment, then glanced at Steve. “Cap, burn your uniform and bring us a Canadian.”
Steve smiled sheepishly, and Bucky’s knees went weak. “I guess I could wear a maple leaf if you like.”
“How about nothing but a maple leaf?” suggested Morita brightly. “The Nazis would pass out from the sheer beauty of it.”
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