In 1943 I was finally released from military hospital and from service, the year previously I'd spent being shipped from hospital to hospital till I finally made it back across the pond to the US. turns out having a howitzer hit the tank you are driving is a little bit of a nuisance at least that's the way the British Doctor and his dry wit phrased it when I woke up after two months unconscious and picking up a lovely scar from hip to shoulder. 

Anyway I'd been given my discharge papers and the remainder of my pay as well as a train ticket home to New York. $57 dollars in my pocket and fresh pack of smokes and the knowledge that I will never have to go back to driving that sweat box on tracks again in my life was enough to ensure a smile on my face.  

Getting back home to New York was incredible, I hadn't been home in three years and it was just as busy as ever. my first stop was to get a hotdog from my favourite vendor near Yankee stadium and Old Joe was more than happy to see me. he spotted me a fresh dog with mustard and onion and a coke and sent me to the box office to grab a ticket. I'd lucked out and today was the day the world series started! 

what more could you want on you first day home? watching Game one of the world series between the Yankees and the Cardinals with a hotdog and the sun on your face?  

After the game I slowly made my way home before walking up the steps to my fathers Brownstone house and Knocking. 

It took a couple minutes before the old boy answered the door and I tell you was he happy to see me! He handed me a wrench and told me the radiator was leaking in the lounge. what a welcome home eh? an hour later it was fixed and we where eating some pasta in the kitchen. 

"My boy, I'm glad you're home theirs been a few changes in the family" he said 

"Changes pop? What kind of changes?" I replied thinking of all the things that could and would have probably gone wrong while I was away.  

"Bartlini is Dead, his Brother Ezio took over and made your Grandfather Consigliere. I'm now Caporegime and you're too be made". he said with an air of finality in his tone. 

The enormity of the change hit me in the chest. I was to become a made man, to be baptised and made again into this thing of ours. No longer could a man touch me with impunity. I was to be backed my actions would have consequences and would ripple through this life. but first I would need to earn it. 

"What happens next?" I asked my father.  

"Next you use this." my father replied placing a pistol onto the table.