Auditorium Conversations - The Draft

​May 1971
 
The May sunlight rushed through the tall windows of the auditorium. The brightness attempted to surround me with warmth, but I shrugged off the minor comfort. The mixture of students chattering and two singers finding their harmony spread throughout the auditorium, but their distant merriment escaped me. I turned my eyes away from the dull tiled floor and stared at the soft hand holding mine. It wasn’t long before the first tear slide down my girlfriend Regina’s cheek. 

​I spoke to her last night on the phone and felt guilty that I purposely hadn’t mentioned the letter I received from the Selective Service branch of the military.  I couldn’t do that to her. Not on the phone. This needed to happen face-to-face.
​

​“It's not a draft notice for me to serve,” I said as I slowly drew the letter away from her.  “Since I’m eighteen, they had to send me a notice to get a physical.  They might not even call me at all after that.”
 
“Look at this,” she blurted out as she snatched back the single sheet of the now crumpled paper. “ Your lottery number is 69 out of 366. They’re going to call you.”
​
​I was sure that I was much more upset than she was, but I couldn’t show her that. My head was spinning. The thrill of graduation next month should have been my biggest concern. Instead, I was sweating bullets as I worried about getting drafted into a far away war.
​

Example of Order to Report for Physical Exam

Even with my head down, I could feel her eyes searching me out. My lack of response wasn’t helping the situation. Regina softly covered her mouth as she tried to contain the approaching emotion. Suddenly, she grabbed both wooden chair handles and pushed herself up to stand. As she did, the letter slipped to the cold floor.
 

“I’ve got to get to class,” she said.
 
“The bell didn’t ring yet.” I quickly responded.
 
Regina looked at me as if I’d told one of my bad jokes. As she moved around the nearby column, she bumped into Albert who must have seen us from the rear of the auditorium.
​

“Hey, Bunny,” Albert said, using her nickname with a smile. His good humor quickly faded when she didn’t answer. He and I watched as she disappeared through the door.
 ​

“I guess you told her, about the letter” Albert said as he fell hard into the row of chairs behind me.
 
After picking up the discarded letter, I nodded slightly. I then took a deep breath and gazed up at the small chandelier with the fake candles hanging directly over my head. Even though we sat quietly, it was difficult to miss that Albert was moving uncomfortably in his seat. His eighteenth birthday had passed months earlier, but he had hit the “high number” lottery. I did my best to coolly continue our conversation. “Wish I could get the Cassius Clay decision.”
​

“You mean Muhammad Ali?” Albert quickly corrected me with a question.
 
“Oh, Right,” I said, only half caring. “I heard on TV that the Supreme Court might be looking at his case. He might wind up going to jail regardless of his religious beliefs.“
​

​Albert shook his head and glanced at his watch. “Yeah. Can’t believe he was convicted in ’67 for refusing to go in the military and four years later he hasn’t done a bit of time in jail. Money talks, I guess.”
 
The bell loudly sounded. Neither of us said a word. We stood up and left for class like good little soldiers.

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P.S. - The last draft call was on December 7, 1972, and the authority to induct expired on June 30, 1973. America's involvement in the Viet Nam war officially ended April 1975.
I was never called on to serve in the military.

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