While we were scrounging through the mounds of letters my then-future husband and I wrote back and forth to each other in the late sixties, we found these two letters:
If you are from the Vietnam Era, then you know exactly what these are. They are the letters that determined many a future of the young men of America during this time in history. Of course, it's what's inside that counts, usually a summons, or in his case a warning.
Let me back up here for those of you not of the boomer generation. When a male child is born in America, the parents are/were required to register him with the military branch called selective service. Eighteen years later he must go to the (in our son's case) post office and officially make himself available for service to his country. It's their patriotic duty. The actual term is conscription, but we called it the draft. It kicks in when not enough men volunteer for military duty.
When my husband-to-be registered back in 1965, he listed himself as a full-time student and as long as he was a student, he would not be called to active duty. Married men weren't called either, although that soon changed. Then even married men with children, who had also been deferred, were called. However, the military needed even more boots on the ground in this Vietnam conflict that we called a war and realized many a strapping young potential recruit was avoiding the draft by hanging out in college for as long as the schools would allow them. So the military powers got as wise as these "dodgers" and made a new rule. In order not to be called up, they must be in the top half of their class. Whew!
That's what one letter was about. Wingate College had sent in the rankings and he wasn't in the top half. So he worked a lot harder, stopped playing College Joe, and pulled up his grades. Then the second letter arrived to confirm his status still as 1-A, but allowed him a deferment to complete his current academic year, which he did, and graduated from the junior college in 1967.
Although he was accepted to Appalachian State Teacher's College as a junior in the fall of 1967, he still had to have his medical examination during the summer and was on his way to full-time military service call-up. Then the rules changed again and he received a deferment because he was accepted in good standing at the school.
We married the next fall, September 14, 1968, and shortly after, the rules changed again on who would go to war. In the wisdom of those military powers that be, or maybe perhaps the wisdom of the government officials, they decided upon a lottery system. That seemed fair to them. Put all the birth dates in a hat and draw them out one by one. Those drawn first would be called first, and all the way to 366 days (leap year babies had to go too). First date drawn was September 14. Wow, we had just married on that date, but praise the Lord, anniversaries didn't count. Only birthdays.
My husband's birthday is January 23. Lucky draw number 118. Check out the link here and compare your date. Would you have been called up? I'm not speaking to women here...which was a real bone of contention during the women's lib movement and equality for women.
My brother had already joined the Army and served in Vietnam as a helicopter repairman. I had pushed any memories of his military service to the back of my mind until I read through these then-boyfriend letters and saw references to writing to my brother. I also talked about the Christmas break from school just before he was shipped out to Vietnam and my emotions about that. I understand my mother's dread more now that I am an adult parent.
The war protests on the television tube bypassed me thanks to the no television rule in our dorm. We had to go to the lobby downstairs and watch whatever of the three stations available. Appalachian State was far into the mountains, isolated, and conservative, so no live protests. We even passed rumors about a top-secret military installation under the gymnasium there on campus. True or not, I never learned.
In the end, my brother survived but he carried the war, and those friends he saw die, with him in his mind and in his heart. My husband was needed in service more to the school system with a teacher shortage than to the army, so he maintained a deferment as long as he was a teacher.
Years later I purchased a Prisoner-of-War bracelet when I was at the Vietnam Wall in Washington, DC. I wore it faithfully, especially during a particularly difficult two years at work. I figured if this brave soldier endured his trials, I certainly could endure mine. It's tucked away now in the back of my jewelry drawer, just like my memories were tucked back in my mind.
Reviewing memories is a difficult process at times, but seeing the past in a rearview mirror might be what makes a difference in driving into the future.
Catch of the day,
Gretchen
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