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A Full Life	By : DrunkenScotsman Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Captain America Views: 5528 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Captain America or any of the characters in this story; Marvel does. I do not make any money from this story.

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Chapter 5: Mail Call
-1951

Dearest Peggy,
This has been one of the longest years of my life.
The Howling Commandoes and I have shadowed numerous platoons of Army and Marines all over the peninsula, plus the occasional ROKA squad. We’ve destroyed bridges and tunnels to cut supply lines, evacuated the walking wounded from MASH units ahead of offensives, even rescued a few downed fighter pilots. Every time we’ve rooted out one band of KPA guerillas or Chinese PVA, it seems like two more spring up in some other mountain stronghold.
Sound familiar?
If HYDRA’s behind any of this, though, they’re hiding it well. No sign of Bucky so far.
General Sherman famously said, “War is hell. It is cruelty, and you cannot refine it.”
The late war in Europe had its horrors, as you know. Those seem like a dress rehearsal for the barbarity I’ve seen in Korea. I’ve seen soldiers so desperate for water under the blistering summer sky, they drink from lagoons where farm animals bathe (among other things). I’ve heard their cries to mothers and wives they’d never see again, or entreaties for God’s mercy right up to the end. I think the only thing I’ve smelled for weeks now is my own sweat. And that’s just the “normal” hardships of war.
I can’t help but wonder, sometimes, if the only ones who want this war are the leaders of the Republic of Korea. Our allies, supposedly, who aren’t above the occasional massacre of civilians. Always "on suspicion of Communist sympathies."
Not that there aren’t a lot of those. We’ve been double-crossed and set up a few times ourselves. We’ve been lucky not to have anything worse than a few close calls, but more than once I’ve missed the shield.
I take it back – the Chinese seem to want this war too. They’re using every tactic in the book to negate our advantages and maximize their opportunities. Not to mention their tenacity, and the sheer numbers suggest either a lot of support among the people to aid their fellow Communists, or a real investment from the CCP.
Ultimately, what I’m trying to say is, this war is a mess. Worse than the last one, since last time it was usually clearer who the enemy was. Not to mention there're rumors of the US using nukes.
The country itself isn’t bad. The mountains are pretty rugged in places, but scenic. I’ve enclosed a few sketches I’ve taken.
I can’t wait to hold you in my arms again. I went so long without, I thought, “What’s one more year?” But the ache I feel now, when it feels like we were just starting to get comfortable with each other again, is worse than I remembered. Every night, when I fall asleep, you’re the last thing on my mind. Especially while bivouacked under the moonless night sky, when the stars shining brightly look like the way the lights dance in your eyes.

With all my love,
Steve

PS I hope that line wasn’t too sappy to end this letter.

*****

With this war looming on the horizon, the SSR had converted a handful of safehouses into small operating bases and communication hubs, some in small towns hidden in plain sight, others in the remotest regions of the Korean countryside. To keep those havens low-profile, agents, like the Howling Commandoes, used no electronic equipment, relying instead on letters carried by couriers. Outgoing and incoming mail flowed through discreet drops to various US or other UN outposts, sometimes quite circuitously.
After almost a year, they should have come across some HYDRA activity by now, Steve thought. The level of chaos in this war practically begged for the Winter Soldier. Steve had been so sure of it he’d put his life – the life with Peggy that he’d specifically gone back in time to have – on hold. With the war grinding toward a less volatile, yet still delicately-balanced, stalemate, most of the best opportunities had already passed, and Steve had begun to wonder if he hadn’t made a grave mistake.
The Howling Commandoes had spent this year crisscrossing battle lines, helping UN forces wherever they could. They also, at Steve’s insistence, smuggled Communist sympathizers to their preferred side; even if none of them thought it wise, Steve had argued his belief that everyone had the right to make their own decisions about where they wanted to live, and under whose authority. After countless long days and nights tramping around the Korean countryside, evading patrols, throwing a monkey wrench into the Communist war machine wherever possible, the unit was exhausted. This area had gone quiet, so Steve had them rest here. He would wait here and plan their next move.
He was, after all, a patient man.
He’d never liked this cloak-and-dagger stuff. Years spent on the run from the Avengers and assorted national and international governments had at least gotten him used to it, or so he’d thought. He found himself missing Sam, Bucky, Nat, and Wanda – the self-styled “Secret Avengers.” The Howling Commandoes were, he admitted to himself, a poor substitute. Unlike the Secret Avengers, which felt like a team of equals, the Commandoes still held a degree of hero worship for him, a reverence that left Steve feeling more alone than he had since coming to this timeline.
Relaxing on his cot, staring at the “ceiling” of his tent, Steve tried not to brood. Brooding never solved anything.
“Mail call, Cap,” called Gabriel Jones, the squad’s translator, as he poked his head into the tent. He’d become quite the polyglot over the years, now fluent in seven languages. “Looks important. Stamped ‘For Your Eyes Only.’” The dark-skinned man grinned. “Must be nice to have friends in high places, n’est-ce pas?”
Steve sat up and took the proffered envelope, brow furrowed in thought. The bland typewriter font gave no clues about the contents or sender. “It’s a lot less glamorous than you might think,” he replied, maybe a little too sourly. “Thanks, Gabe. How’s everyone holding up?”
“A couple days’ rest, and we should be good to go,” replied Gabe in his usual nonchalant manner. “Dugan’s complaining he’s too old for this shit, but what else is new?”
“Language,” Steve chided playfully, with a fond smirk on his lips at a fond memory.
Gabe held up his hands. “That’s a direct quote, sir. Don’t shoot the messenger.”
Steve chuckled. “Tell him I said he should’ve retired when he had the chance. And to wash his mouth out with soap.”
Gabe grinned. “With pleasure, sir.” With that, he left, and Steve soon heard him bickering good-naturedly with Dum-Dum.
Now alone, Steve opened the missive. To call its contents “unexpected” would have been understatement of the year: a letter from Peggy, along with a pair of photographs.

My darling Steve,
I hope this letter finds you well. I know your search for Bucky is important to you, but I miss you terribly. The sooner you find him, the sooner you can return to your loving fiancée.
I wish I had more to report regarding our efforts to determine the whereabouts of the Winter Soldier. The SSR agents I’ve tasked with the assignment have turned over every rock, it seems, but to no avail. HYDRA seem to be sitting this one out, by all indications.
The SSR have recently, under orders, lent agents to the UN peacekeeping forces to help screen for moles amongst POWs. I believe this means there’s an armistice in the works. If so, I presume that means the situation on the ground favors neither side? I would appreciate if your next letter might provide some insight on the matter.
I shan’t prattle on. Angie and Daniel pass on their congratulations. Give the Commandoes my best; and take particular care of Dum-Dum; he’s “not as young as he used to be,” as I recall him reminding everyone at every opportunity.
Stay safe, my love. If you died, I should never forgive you.

Love,
Peggy

[marginal] Please forgive my writing down the margins here, but I received your letter just as I was about to send this in the post. The enclosed photos were taken by Mrs. Jarvis – the one to replace that older one in your compass; the other, I hope, to inspire you to return home soon. [marginal]

The first photo, folded and labeled “compass” on the back, showed a smiling Peggy in quarter-right profile, with her left hand cupping her cheek to display her engagement ring. The light shone in her dark eyes. Only the light-colored collar and shoulders of her blouse appeared, just barely, in-frame.
Steve grinned. He wouldn’t need to trim much to fit this photo into his compass, over the older one. He didn’t plan to get rid of the older one, though, as it held too much sentimental value.
The second photo, folded and labeled “for your eyes only,” showed something else entirely. Peggy reclined on a chaise-lounge, in left profile except for her face, which she’d turned towards the camera. A sultry smirk rested on her lips.
Besides her heels, a dark garter belt with matching stockings, and her ring, Peggy didn’t have a stitch of clothing on her. Her slightly-raised left knee obscured her groin while enhancing the roundness of her caboose, and her left hand sat atop her knee to show off her ring again. Her right hand cupped the left breast, obscuring the nipple, but unable to fully encapsulate the soft, voluminous flesh. At the bottom of the photo, the crimson imprint of Peggy’s lips appeared beside these handwritten words: ‘Come home soon, darling.’
Steve swallowed as his eyes traveled the lines of Peggy’s body. Part of him couldn’t believe that Peggy – fierce and professional and reserved in that classic English “stiff upper lip” fashion – would pose for this type of picture.
Part of him wished the thing was in color.
He’d always prided himself on his gentlemanly behavior towards women, but that didn’t make him blind to his fiancée’s figure. Hell, the first time he’d met her, he’d thought she was built more like a pinup model than a secret agent. This photo simply confirmed that.
Steve admired the photos for several minutes more before folding up the risqué one and stashing it into his shirt pocket. Another few minutes’ work saw the other one cropped and placed into his compass. Despite his hopes to the contrary, that work had done nothing to reduce the physical effects caused by the one secreted in his shirt. He hadn’t had much time to handle such matters in weeks.
He pulled the photo back out of his shirt, marveling at his luck to have such a beautiful fiancée, who loved and trusted him so much she’d share with him this sensual side of herself.
With such a beauty at his disposal, he wouldn’t need long.

*****

Dearest Peggy,
Sorry it’s taken so long to respond to your letter. I definitely appreciated its contents. You might say those photos lifted my spirits.
The reason for the delay is straightforward: The war heated up in the region near our safehouse shortly after your letter arrived. We’ve spent most of the last month dodging armored divisions and the occasional artillery strike. It’s been chaos, but the Commandoes are all accounted for.
That includes Bucky. Sort of.
About two weeks ago, not far from a small village with a name I can’t pronounce, we crossed paths with a unit of colored soldiers – all colored, which struck me as a little odd, since the armed forces are supposed to be integrated these days. Their leader, SSgt Bradley, was carrying this odd-looking contraption, about the length of my forearm, that looked like an oversized piston. When our two groups bivouacked for the night, we fell to talking about it.
Bradley told me he’d torn it off a “strange dark-haired Commie” who “fought like the devil while in a trance.” I told him that was no Commie, but my friend who’d been captured and brainwashed, and I’d been looking for him to bring him home to get him right. He told me his opponent had escaped down a ravine headed northwest, and our units could work together to track him down.
I had no idea there were others like me. In some ways, it’s good to know I’m not alone. A lot of pressure fell off my shoulders, knowing others can carry the load. Bradley’s a good man – reminds me of Sam, a little.
All that said, I have a hard time understanding how anyone could have duplicated Dr. Erskine’s work. I don’t mean to dump this into your lap, Peggy, but it seems like something the SSR might want to look into.
After ten days looking for Bucky, though, the trail went cold. With the damage Bradley inflicted, tearing off some or all of Bucky’s prosthetic, I doubt HYDRA will risk deploying him again for the rest of the war, unless it drags out longer than I think it will. I can’t believe I just barely missed him.
I guess that’s a long way of saying: I’m coming home, Peg.
We can start making wedding plans when I get back – assuming you don’t plan the whole thing by the time I get there.
I can’t wait to see you again and hold you in my arms.

With all my love,
Steve
_________________________________________________________________________

A/N: June 25, the date I'm posting this chapter, marks the anniversary of the beginning of the Korean War (called the 6/25 war in Korea). It's still technically ongoing today, over 70 years later. It's often called "The Forgotten War"; I'm something of a "history of warfare" buff, and I knew next to nothing about it before tackling this chapter. It just doesn't get discussed the way WW2 does (Nazis, American triumphalism, nukes etc. etc.), or even Vietnam (lingering scar on the American psyche, etc.).
For the story, I struggled somewhat over how much Steve would know. Korea's status as "the Forgotten War" helped in that regard, and it helped me decide my general-rule interpretation for the rest of the story: Steve's only aware of what happened while he was on ice in the broadest sense, like one might get from reading about a large swath of history out of a book. I hope this will allow me to proceed with things unfolding in his new timeline in more or less the same way as the old one. I guess I'm just not brave enough to try for a full-on AU where, for example, Steve saves JFK. Reimagining history to that degree is just more time and effort than I want to put into a story that, ultimately, is about Steve and Peggy.
As you can see, I also took this opportunity to play around with the storytelling format a bit.
Please let me know what you think, about any aspect of this story, in a review. :)
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A Full Life