I had no militray service but respect and thank those who do.

Raynine

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I remember taking an army physical in 1966. Lucky for me, I was born blind in one eye. I say lucky because without that bad eye I would have been on a fast track to Vietnam. I showed up as instructed at a designated business in Keene, New Hampshire at 6 am. There were about 40 buses there loaded with guys that did not have student deferments. There were no females at all. As soon as I got there a uniformed individual started yelling at me to go there and get in line! I followed the person in front of me and did as I was told. I had a piece of paper with some information on it and was told to present it to a giant man in US Army garb.

I was then told to go to a specific bus with a number on it. They packed us in like sardines! No one said much because we were instructed not to talk. It took a while because even in a small city like Keene, the parking lot was completely swamped with crowds of young men who did not have student deferments.

After what seemed like an eternity, the buses started moving in a long procession for the fifty-mile trip to Manchester, New Hampshire. It was December and cold, and the bus windows were translucent with the breath of the riders. This was 1966 and the buses, which were school buses, did not have great heaters.

I can’t recall much about the ride other than recognizing some of my classmates who like me, did not have student deferments. I do remember thinking that maybe I should have tried harder in school so I could have had a student deferment, but it was too late. A guidance councilor told me in school that my IQ was 121-128 and that I was lazy. He told me that because I tried to switch from college English to general English just so I could get through school. He said no, because it would give me an unfair advantage over the kids in General English. I did not tell him about the alcoholic, abusive home I was living in. As bad as things were, there were people who had it even worse, and like I said, I consider myself lucky to have that bad eye because a lot of guys with two good eyes came from homes worse than mine and ended up in the jungle fighting to stop LBJ’s Domino Theory.

We arrived in Manchester at about 7 am and there were about 400 buses everywhere as far as the eye could see. There was a lot of yelling, and I got off my bus with the guy behind me stepping on my heels. It was cold and some of the guys had thin jackets as they lined people up to be herded into one of the buildings. They wanted names and issued color-coded numbered cardboard sheets which took some time. I really began to regret not having that student deferment. As I stood there shivering, I began to wonder if things would have been better if I had done things right and got a student deferment, but that had gone by the boards, and I did not know then that my bad eye was going to help me.

Finally, when we got into a building, more yelling ensued and we were run down chutes for fast, embarrassing physical exams that were strangely dreamlike as if in another dimension. I stayed quiet and moved like a robot. I was 5’5, 120 pounds, and eighteen years old. I tried my best to follow instructions and not be like others that screwed up and were loudly dressed down before the crowd.

Then testing, testing, and more testing! Written tests, reading tests and what looked like psychological and personality tests. They must have fed us, but I do not recall that part. I’m nearly eighty so my memory is not as sharp as it once was. I do recall that a person in a uniform had handed me a folded piece of paper and told me not to lose it. I sneaked a look at it, and it read “I can’t do a thing with this man’s left eye”. The process took all day and right at the end another uniformed person took the paper from my hand, and they sent me into another room to test my eyes again. Then they sent me to an officer who was a Major. It said so on his uniform and it also said he was a medical doctor. He told me that my left eye was bad. I tried to act like I was surprised and did my best to seem disappointed that I may have failed the Army.

I knew what 4-F was and I expected that was what would appear on my draft card. That is not what happened. The doctor said: You have a bad eye, but we can still use you if things go really bad. It was then that I began to think about those German’s during World War two with one arm. The doctor said we are going to classify you 1-Y, a classification that no longer exists by the way. That means you will only climb the lottery if the Russians invade West Germany or something like that. I took it to mean I would make a great one-eyed human shield if things went south quickly.

Well, the Russians never got in tanks and invaded West Germany, and I never got that student deferment that made those that did special in some way. I stayed 1-Y for years and then one day in the 1970’s I got an envelope from the Selective Service after I had three kids. I opened it with trepidation that I was finally drafted. The notice said my classification was changed from 1-Y to 4-F.

I don’t know if I would have been an Eddie Slovik or an Audie Murphy in the Army. My brother did go and he passed a couple of tests that kept him out of Vietnam. In a way I regret not going in because my brother says it changed his life for the better. I do know that I had enough of the Army in that one day. I played in a rock band instead and I have some interesting stories to tell about that another time.
 
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I say lucky because without that bad eye I would have been on a fast track to Vietnam.

Actually not, less than 25% of those in Vietnam were draftees. 66% were volunteers, the other 7% were those in second or later contracts. Because of the short terms of service (2 years), the vast majority of draftees served either in the US or Europe.

With the initial training generally being 5-6 months, then requiring around three months stateside with a unit prior to deploying and three months back stateside before discharge, it was damned near impossible to actually send draftees for a standard one year term of service.

But for some reason, people still believe that most in Vietnam were draftees.

And sorry, blind in one eye and still given a draftable status?
 
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Interesting to find someone thanking his country for losing every battle and war it created .
Good job it did not win any . The Euphoria would have been too much to handle .
I'm not thanking the country. I'm thanking those that got stuck in that cycle. A lot of guy's went over there thinking they would be welcomed with open arms. We now know that is not what happened. They were not even thanked when they got home and none came back the same. I can attest to that. They were told "not" to wear their uniforms in public places because of TV coverage vilifying them.
 
I'm headed to Vietnam in a couple days, it's a beautiful country full of warm, friendly people.

To think we bombed the shit out of it for 10 years is unforgivable, but the Vietnamese have long ago moved on.
So is Japan. How does this make sense?
 
I remember taking an army physical in 1966. Lucky for me, I was born blind in one eye. I say lucky because without that bad eye I would have been on a fast track to Vietnam. I showed up as instructed at a designated business in Keene, New Hampshire at 6 am. There were about 40 buses there loaded with guys that did not have student deferments. There were no females at all. As soon as I got there a uniformed individual started yelling at me to go there and get in line! I followed the person in front of me and did as I was told. I had a piece of paper with some information on it and was told to present it to a giant man in US Army garb.

I was then told to go to a specific bus with a number on it. They packed us in like sardines! No one said much because we were instructed not to talk. It took a while because even in a small city like Keene, the parking lot was completely swamped with crowds of young men who did not have student deferments.

After what seemed like an eternity, the buses started moving in a long procession for the fifty-mile trip to Manchester, New Hampshire. It was December and cold, and the bus windows were translucent with the breath of the riders. This was 1966 and the buses, which were school buses, did not have great heaters.

I can’t recall much about the ride other than recognizing some of my classmates who like me, did not have student deferments. I do remember thinking that maybe I should have tried harder in school so I could have had a student deferment, but it was too late. A guidance councilor told me in school that my IQ was 121-128 and that I was lazy. He told me that because I tried to switch from college English to general English just so I could get through school. He said no, because it would give me an unfair advantage over the kids in General English. I did not tell him about the alcoholic, abusive home I was living in. As bad as things were, there were people who had it even worse, and like I said, I consider myself lucky to have that bad eye because a lot of guys with two good eyes came from homes worse than mine and ended up in the jungle fighting to stop LBJ’s Domino Theory.

We arrived in Manchester at about 7 am and there were about 400 buses everywhere as far as the eye could see. There was a lot of yelling, and I got off my bus with the guy behind me stepping on my heels. It was cold and some of the guys had thin jackets as they lined people up to be herded into one of the buildings. They wanted names and issued color-coded numbered cardboard sheets which took some time. I really began to regret not having that student deferment. As I stood there shivering, I began to wonder if things would have been better if I had done things right and got a student deferment, but that had gone by the boards, and I did not know then that my bad eye was going to help me.

Finally, when we got into a building, more yelling ensued and we were run down chutes for fast, embarrassing physical exams that were strangely dreamlike as if in another dimension. I stayed quiet and moved like a robot. I was 5’5, 120 pounds, and eighteen years old. I tried my best to follow instructions and not be like others that screwed up and were loudly dressed down before the crowd.

Then testing, testing, and more testing! Written tests, reading tests and what looked like psychological and personality tests. They must have fed us, but I do not recall that part. I’m nearly eighty so my memory is not as sharp as it once was. I do recall that a person in a uniform had handed me a folded piece of paper and told me not to lose it. I sneaked a look at it, and it read “I can’t do a thing with this man’s left eye”. The process took all day and right at the end another uniformed person took the paper from my hand, and they sent me into another room to test my eyes again. Then they sent me to an officer who was a Major. It said so on his uniform and it also said he was a medical doctor. He told me that my left eye was bad. I tried to act like I was surprised and did my best to seem disappointed that I may have failed the Army.

I knew what 4-F was and I expected that was what would appear on my draft card. That is not what happened. The doctor said: You have a bad eye, but we can still use you if things go really bad. It was then that I began to think about those German’s during World War two with one arm. The doctor said we are going to classify you 1-Y, a classification that no longer exists by the way. That means you will only climb the lottery if the Russians invade West Germany or something like that. I took it to mean I would make a great one-eyed human shield if things went south quickly.

Well, the Russians never got in tanks and invaded West Germany, and I never got that student deferment that made those that did special in some way. I stayed 1-Y for years and then one day in the 1970’s I got an envelope from the Selective Service after I had three kids. I opened it with trepidation that I was finally drafted. The notice said my classification was changed from 1-Y to 4-F.

I don’t know if I would have been an Eddie Slovik or an Audie Murphy in the Army. My brother did go and he passed a couple of tests that kept him out of Vietnam. In a way I regret not going in because my brother says it changed his life for the better. I do know that I had enough of the Army in that one day. I played in a rock band instead and I have some interesting stories to tell about that another time.
My Father, and two Uncles all voluntarily served in Vietnam.
 
My Father, and two Uncles all voluntarily served in Vietnam.
My dad and all my uncles served in World War Two. They were all in the Pacific Theater. When my dad died in 2008 we got his militray records. He had three Bronze Stars. I never saw them and he never talked about them. I found out later from others that that is not unusual.
 
I'm headed to Vietnam in a couple days, it's a beautiful country full of warm, friendly people.

To think we bombed the shit out of it for 10 years is unforgivable, but the Vietnamese have long ago moved on.
Some can't move on because they are dead or victims of chemical warfare, but they are a brave people who still look to the future.
 
My dad and all my uncles served in World War Two. They were all in the Pacific Theater. When my dad died in 2008 we got his militray records. He had three Bronze Stars. I never saw them and he never talked about them. I found out later from others that that is not unusual.
My Dad served with the British Guards Armoured Div in Europe from France to Germany, an Uncle was killed in Normandy age just 17 12 days after landing on Gold beach on d-Day i visited his grave in Bayeux in June another Uncle was captured on the Greek Island of Leros and my Dads Brother was in the Navy he was on HMS Victorious and towards the end of the War his ship was part of a Carrier battle group attched to the US fleet for the battle of Okinawa, his ship took three Kamikzi strikes, he was a Oerlikon AA gunner, when he came home he had a terrible stammer probably what we call ptsd today but he managed to get employment at the Town hall in the Office where he worked until he retired, i am sure there are many families with stories like mine and like you say he never talked much about it, if i asked him he would just say it was a long time ago and change the subject to football or something, just happy i never saw such things.
 
Raynine, Congratulations on earning your 4-F rank. God is good.

As a black female who enlisted in the United States Army I have so many stories to tell. I try not to discuss the grueling and even shameful aspects of the physical exams, the yelling, the terrorizing bus ride to basic training, the blood flowing from our arms from the two doses of immunization shots to each arm at once, the... the...the... yea all of it. I try to block it out as I live this civilian life of mine. Thank you so much for posting about your military experience. It was worth reading. God is good.
 
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I'm headed to Vietnam in a couple days, it's a beautiful country full of warm, friendly people.

To think we bombed the shit out of it for 10 years is unforgivable, but the Vietnamese have long ago moved on.
I see you know nothing about the brutality of the Vietnamese.
 
Pearl-Harbor for Japan - and no attack by Vietnam onto the USA, does that make sense?
There is a lot of circumstancial evidence to suggest that the Pearl Harbor attack was orchestrated by Roosevelt, Churchill, and Stalin to get the US into the war at a time when the American people had no stomach for another war in Europe.
 
less than 25% of those in Vietnam were draftees.
But for some reason, people still believe that most in Vietnam were draftees.
Actually, that 25% figure is true, but misleading.
A lot of guys with low lottery numbers didn't want to be drafted into the infantry.
So they went to the local Army, Navy, Marine, Air Force, recruiting office before receiving their induction letter in the mail, and joined up into a speciality MOS field.
(mechanic, cook, truck driver, clerk, etc.)

Although, many still went to Vietnam, they were not counted as being drafted.
Which is why that only 25% of Vietnam soldiers were drafted statistic is kinda bogus.
 
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I as well , 1 am very grateful for the men and women who dedicate each day of their lives making sure that America is a safe and free country.
 
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