Ben joins the 10th Mountain Division

Ben joins the 10th Mountain Division through a choice shaped by his knowledge of skiing and the high country, but the decision is not simply an adventure or an escape from the draft. A recruiting letter gives him a way to meet wartime service on terms suited to his experience, while his father’s resistance makes clear what that choice will cost at home. When the Army’s order arrives, Ben’s acceptance turns the possibility of departure into a fact: he has to leave the orchard and his father, who needs him to stay.

The Invitation to the Mountain Troops

In May, a letter arrived for Ben from Willard Anderson, president of the Leavenworth Ski Club. Anderson remembered him from the time he had passed on the jump at Ski Hill and urged him to join the mountain troops being raised by the Army. The appeal was specific to Ben’s background: rather than address him only as a young man of fighting age, Anderson addressed his enthusiasm for the high country and the possibility of serving in a unit organized around mountain skills.

Anderson’s letter supplied a brief history of that effort. The 87th Mountain Infantry Regiment had been activated at Fort Lewis the day after the attack on Pearl Harbor and had trained on the slopes of Mt. Rainier. The 10th Mountain Division followed the 87th and was now recruiting, with help from the National Ski Patrol; Anderson was its local chairman. He presented enlistment as both an honor and a privilege during a time of dire need, connecting Ben’s personal interest in skiing to the Army’s expanding mountain force.

The letter also set out the alternative: the draft might decide where Ben served. Anderson argued that volunteering would let him “meet the war on your own terms, and wearing skis as well?” The pitch does not promise that military service will be safe or easy. Instead, it offers Ben some agency over how he enters it. The distinction matters: his decision is a choice within the pressure of wartime mobilization, not a refusal to serve.

A Choice Measured Against Home

Ben’s father accepted the logic of joining the mountain troops if Ben had to go, but that acceptance came with an unmistakable plea. He said, “I wish you wouldn't go at all,” then added, “I wish you could stay. I need you.” Ben answered, “You'll get along.” His father replied, “No, I won't.” The short exchange makes the decision’s domestic cost plain without turning it into an argument over military policy. Ben’s father understands that service may be unavoidable; what he cannot accept is the reassurance that his son’s absence will be manageable.

The contrast between Anderson’s appeal and the father’s words gives the enlistment two simultaneous meanings. In the letter, Ben is addressed as someone who can make purposeful use of his abilities in the high country. At home, he is not primarily a prospective soldier but a son whose presence is needed. The act that gives him a measure of choice about military service therefore also means choosing to leave a relationship and a family place that matter to him.

Official Orders and Acceptance

Later, an order arrived from the adjutant general’s office in Washington, directing Ben to report for active service in the 10th Mountain Division. He read it closely, twice, and his heart began to pound. He then turned through the orchard to find his father in the south orchard, laying new irrigating pipe. The sequence joins institutional language to physical, familiar work: the Army’s demand reaches Ben among the trees, while his father is occupied with the labor of maintaining the orchard.

His father read the letter, squinting, and scratched his weathered forehead. The day was clear, windless, and hot; the Farmall had been idling while he hauled pipe. He shut off the motor and got down from the seat, saying only, “Well.” Ben answered, “I'm all accepted.” His father acknowledged the fact—“I guess you are”—and leaned with Ben against the Farmall while reading the order again. The official notice has made the decision concrete, but the two men remain together beside the tractor as they take in what it means.

After reading, his father said, “I don't like this,” and “I don't want you to go.” Ben replied, “I have to go.” His father answered, “I know that.” Ben added, “It'll mostly be skiing.” That assurance recalls the defining appeal of Anderson’s letter, but it does not undo the father’s reluctance or make the departure less real. The conversation moves from acceptance to resistance and then to the limited comfort Ben can offer: the service will be connected, at least in part, to skiing.

Departure and Significance

In another brief exchange, Ben confirms the decision in plain terms: “I joined up.” Asked when he goes, he answers, “End of October.” The date gives the impending departure a boundary. There is more than an abstract future at stake; Ben and the people around him can measure the remaining time before he leaves. When told that this is not much time, he answers, “More than you,” a pointed comparison that underscores how differently the two departures are being approached without changing Ben’s stated plan.

The action’s significance lies in the convergence of recruitment, obligation, and attachment. Anderson’s letter identifies a route into military service that draws on Ben’s skiing experience; the Army’s order confirms his acceptance into the 10th Mountain Division; and Ben’s exchanges with his father show the personal loss attached to that choice. The orchard remains the setting of the decision’s most intimate consequence: the son who is needed among its rows is also the man who says he has to go. Enlistment thus begins not with combat, but with a letter, an order read beneath the orchard trees, and a father who understands the necessity without wanting it.