The Civil War photo looks interesting, but what you remember about that war sounds pretty nasty and brutal. Whoever the kid was probably didn't survive. The kid in the military academy uniform looks a more modern and safer. "How about this one?"
The barber looks at the image and grins. "Ah! Going for discipline! Looks like a good English military school in the 1920s. And you'll graduate just in time for World War II!"
You frown at that, not keen on getting stuck in a war, but before you can change your mind the barber is already snipping at your hair. "Just a..." Your objection is cut off as the barber shop changes around you. Now you are in a smaller room with just two plainer chairs and a row of boys standing in line. There is no mirror here, just two men in military-looking uniforms cutting every boy's hair to a close-cropped buzz-cut much like the flat-top you had before. Your clothing feels tighter and stiffer, but you don't have time to look before the man behind you says "Done, Cadet! On your way."
The boy in the next chair also gets up and heads outside, and you follow him. A glance down confirms that you are wearing the same uniform as he is, though he looks taller than you. He doesn't look more than 14 or 15, and when you finally find a mirror you see why he is taller. A pug-nosed, skinny, buck-toothed boy of 9 or 10 stares back at you. You have freckles, bright blue eyes, and copper-red hair. Your ears look enormous, sticking out like teapot handles.
"Hey, Colin!" Another boy about your age comes out of the barber area and grins. "If I looked like you I'd avoid mirrors." He has a strong British accent. You know his name is Richard, somehow. Your best friend.
"Better than lookin' like the back end of a bulldog!" You grin as you say that, also knowing this is a normal banter. But your voice is also strongly accented, probably Scottish.