Join up

Dolph finished his last beer and wandered into the recruiting station. The woman behind the counter spoke matter-of-factly, taking down all of Dolph's information.

"Do you understand that service in the military is for five years minimum? Breaching the contract will lead to arrest or execution."

Dolph paused for the first time. Was he really willing to go through with this? Even under the influence, he carefully considered the consequences. What if he wasn't cut out for the military? Was he really willing to give these people five years of his life? His grandfather lived until 70.

But what could he do? Go back to the farm? Would he look for work in the city, as someone who didn't even like the crowds? If he got into the army, it would be easy. He remembered that soldiers had **** and food rations. Stories about the garrison sitting on their asses drinking and gambling sounded better than any kind of work in the city.

"Fuck. I'll do it." Dolph said. The woman behind the desk didn't show any reaction as she filled out the remaining paperwork.

"Welcome to the military, Dolph Lund. Transport will take you to the training camp in a few hours."

Dolph climbed into the wagon, there were a few other recruits in there with him. Two of the men, both young were arguing.

"I'm telling you, I'm going to join the military police" said the shorter one. His hair was black and his face was covered in freckles. He must be the bartender's son.

"I didn't know they accepted shrimp in the military police" the bigger one said. He had shorter black hair, and very thin and wispy facial hair. The bartender's son punched him, and the two began shoving and hitting each other as the other recruits egged them on.

Unsurprisingly, the bartender's son was losing.