[legendsport]

September 1, 1939: Washington, DC:

"We sure are going to miss you around here, Mr. Barrell."

Rufus Barrell smiled. It was a sad smile, because in his heart he hoped this day had never come, but of course, time waits for no one and he'd known it inevitably would arrive. He was announcing his retirement later that afternoon. Having just arrived at the office, his secretary Mary was the first to hear the news.

Thomas Potentas burst into Rufus' office, looking both distraught and disheveled. His tie was crooked and his hair was a mess, looking as though someone had been pulling on it. Rufus and Mary exchanged looks of equal parts shock and concern.

"Thomas! What is it?" Rufus asked. Mary was also now staring at Thomas, eyes wide.

In response Thomas spluttered something, a string of words Rufus didn't understand - presumably Polish. Thomas sometimes lapsed into his native tongue when distressed - and Rufus had rarely, if ever, seen his old friend and business partner this upset.

"I beg your pardon?" Rufus asked, his voice practically dripping with concern.

Thomas ran his hands through his hair - proving its state was his doing after all - and then muttered, "I am sorry, Rufus. But the news, it is terrible!"

Mary put a hand on Thomas' shoulder. "What's happened Mr. Potentas?" she asked.

"The Nazis... they have attacked Poland!"

Rufus closed his eyes. Like many, he had feared this was going to occur. For weeks Hitler had been ramping up his rhetoric and once everyone had heard that the Nazis and the Soviets had somehow made a pact... well, it was then that most realized this probably meant war.

"The British and French... they won't let this stand," Rufus told his friend.

"I wish I had your confidence, Rufus, but the Germans..." a tear rolled down Thomas' cheek. "If the west doesn't act quickly, it'll be too late."

Mary continued to pat Thomas' shoulder.

"I must go home!" he suddenly shouted, then added, "I will fight! Yes, yes, that is what I will do!"

Rufus' eyes widened in fright. Thomas... as a soldier? The very idea was preposterous.

But Mary beat him to the punch, saying, "Mr. Potentas, that is a terrible idea. You are not trained to be a soldier!"

Rufus jumped in, adding, "That's right! And it'll take time to get there too. Let's see if the Brits or the French can stop this before it goes too far."

Thomas shook his head. "They won't be able to stop Hitler. They did not stop him in the Rhineland. They did not stop him in Austria. They did not stop him in Czechoslovakia. They will not stop him now. Now... it is war."

The three of them stood quietly for a moment. Then Thomas angrily rubbed his sleeve across his face, wiping away the residue of his tears. "I am sorry. What is it you wanted to talk about, my friend?" he asked Rufus.

Rufus looked uncomfortable. "Oh, it was nothing. It can wait," he said. He caught Mary's eye and she gave a small nod of understanding. Rufus knew she'd cancel the meeting with the newsmen. The papers would have something else to write about today, regardless.

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Same day, Baltimore, MD:

The team doctor was looking into Deuce Barrell's left eye. "You having any other issues?" he asked.

"Aside from that bright light hurting my eye, no," Deuce replied.

The doctor stepped back, and Deuce blinked in relief. "You find Amelia Earhart in there, Doc?" he asked with a grin.

"Well, I am glad to see you're in good spirits at least, Rufus."

Deuce sighed and said, "I told you, call me Deuce. Only my grandmother calls me Rufus."

The doctor made a point of looking at his chart. "Says here your name is 'Rufus J. Barrell' so I'll stick with that. What's the 'J' for anyway?"

"Joseph," Deuce replied. "It was my father's name. He didn't want to give me a middle name at all, but my mother insisted."

The doctor gave him a lopsided grin and said, "Well, Deuce, I am happy to report that the only thing wrong with you is," he paused for dramatic effect and said, "color-blindness."

"Color-blindness?" Deuce asked, with a dubious look.

"Yes indeed," the doctor replied. "It's fairly common and nothing to be overly concerned about. It's not contagious," he finished and winked.

"Well, shoot..." Deuce said. "Gloria was right."

"Gloria?"

"Yeah, my pain-in-the-butt sister Gloria. She's been telling me I'm colorblind since we were kids," Deuce explained unhappily. He really didn't like seeing his twin sister be proven correct about anything. She had a tendency to rub it in.

There was a knock on the door, and then it opened. Gus Goulding's head popped into the frame. "You guys hear? The Germans went and invaded Poland. Radio says the English and French are thinking about declaring war on the Nazis."

The doctor harrumphed then slapped Deuce on the knee. "Well my boy, you might just end up being extremely lucky."

Deuce was perplexted. Gus, intrigued, stepped into the room. The doctor chuckled at their looks of confusion.

"Well, if there's a big dust-up in Europe, you can bet dollars to donuts FDR will find a way to get us into it. And that'll mean young men like you two could end up swapping those baseball duds for olive drab. But...."

"But what?" Deuce and Gus asked almost in unison.

"But... color-blindness, at least in the last war, was grounds for a deferment from the draft. So you, my boy," he slapped Deuce on the knee again, "might just have gotten a 'get out of the Army free' card."

"Huh," Deuce said.

.