I had joined the Army Reserves. This was during the Vietnam War and my draft number was four, which meant that if I missed one homework assignment I would lose my student deferment and wind up in Southeast Asia. I was able to get into an Armed Forces Radio Reserve Unit so happily enlisted. I figured, we were really in trouble if they called up disc jockeys to fight. What weapon requires the ability to talk up to vocals?
The last three months of active duty were actually kind of fun. I was trained to be an Information Specialist – Broadcaster. Think: Sean Spicer but we were not penalized for telling the truth. I was stationed at Ft. Benjamin Harrison in Indianapolis. It snowed every day, but otherwise it was pretty much like college except with KP.,
Once I returned to “civilian” life I then had 5 ½ years of monthly meetings and two-weeks of annual summer camp. And of course we were always on-call to be re-activated to active duty. So for almost six years I held my breath and put on my short-hair wig.
Looking back, on the night I saw my draft number was four I thought this was the worst thing that could ever happen to me. But in many ways, it proved to be the best. I met my writing partner in our reserve unit, and without experiencing army life I don’t think I could have ever really written MASH. That show was our golden ticket. So in a roundabout way I have the army to thank for my career. Me and snipers.
Still, every March 19th, it’s nice to know I no longer have to wear my fatigues – not that I can get into them anymore.
When it was time for me to re-up in the Air Force I was told I would be going to Vietnam. I respectfully declined the offer of the paltry signing bonus, got in my Corvair and drove home.
ReplyDeleteWe've met and it's hard to believe there are fatigues you couldn't fit into, Beanpole Levine.
ReplyDeleteAs I'm a few years younger than you, I never had to worry about the draft.
ReplyDeleteMy father was similarly fortunate during World War II. He was trained as an MP (military police, for you youngsters) and twice came close to going overseas (once in Europe, once in the Pacific), but to my mother's relief, remained stateside. After the war, he was in the National Guard Reserve for many years, and as late as 1970 spent a few weeks each summer at Camp Drum in upstate New York (and I'm talkin' real upstate, near Watertown, well north of Syracuse, our home at the time).
It was a different time. One summer in the late '60s, one of those stationed with Dad was John Cumberland, a pitcher with the Yankees (whose Triple-A affiliate was then in Syracuse). When was the last U.S. major-leaguer whose pro career was interrupted by military service?
In 1970 I was a senior in high school working after school at the local afternoon newspaper. One day I was stacking papers coming off the press and the front page had the draft numbers for my age group. My number was 4, just like Ken Levine would get a year later. Holy Jesus!
ReplyDeleteI had been wavering on going to college before that but instantly I became obsessed with the importance of a higher education. So I went to UF where every spring there were demonstrations and riots with tear gas featuring the Vietman Veterens Against the War. After four years of extremely high education, the war was over.
Uh-oh. I just realized that we probably were at DINFOS at the same time. I got there in October of 1970 for eight weeks of learning to lie to reporters. Col. Rufe taught something about political climate of the time; Lt. Jim Porchey taught journalism; and another guy taught film. To kill time and entertain myself, I worked weekends at WGEE in Indianapolis. Bob Todd was pd. Literally blind. Nice guy. Station owned by Rollins...and we all had to read off of format cards. Worse than the military. Dated a Marine lieutenant, the lovely Sylvia. Left before Christmas and headed to Athens to be pao on uss jfk. One of the kids in my division wanted to know how to become a dj. Not sure he did very much with that, but his career worked out well without my help. He is Fritz Coleman (KNBC weatherman for the last 30 years or so) :)
ReplyDeleteI never understood the college deferment rule. Obviously, it put poorer teens,unlucky to get a high draft number and unable to afford college, in the no-win situation of going to fight in Viet Nam. I remember the best running back on our high school football team my freshman year, who made All City and probably should have gone to college, was drafted and killed in action less than a year later. It was the first time the brutality and finality of war hit so close to home. Here was an athletically gifted guy I used to see in the hallways, always with a big smile, and he was gone. My future brother-in-law, who was in the same class as him, drew No. 16 and enlisted in the Air Force the next day.
ReplyDeleteI was so damned lucky in the draft lottery. My number the year I was 19 and Nixon instituted his "19-year-olds first" rule, was over 300. When I talked to my draft counselor, he explained that if you were eligible even for just one day, say December 31st, it counted for the whole year and if you were selected, you were free of the draft forever. He said to wait and drop my student deferment in December, that there was no chance they would get to the 300s, as that would mean drafting about 85% of the 19 year old males in America. I took his advice, and come January 1st, 1970, I was out from under the threat of the draft forever. Luckiest lottery I ever won.
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful war that was (not that any of them are very good for the ones that have to go). Last weekend my wife bought some clothes for our grandson and I noticed they were made in Vietnam. Too bad we could not have worked something like that out back then, it would have saved a lot of pain and death on both sides.
ReplyDeleteI'm younger than you, so my year no one was drafted, but my number was 295. It was leap year and one friend had 366.
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