From Dropping Out in Earnest

Q6 Spring 1964-65, Apr-Jun 1965
POLS 153 Polit Soc Thry, 5, B
ENGL 25 Shakespeare, 4, F
PHIL 194 Probs Chinese, 4, I (GPA 1.1)

I knew this would be the last quarter I could claim a student deferment. The Vietnam War was seriously escalating and so was the resistance to what all my peers saw as an unjust and imperialistic war. I didn’t want to be drafted and sent over as cannon fodder or worse. 

My first thought was to be a Conscientious Objector. I respected people who could articulate and defend a principled moral position in the face of the war machine.  But to be honest with myself, I knew I didn’t have a sufficiently grounded and coherent belief system that I could argue from. I would have to find another way to avoid being a victim of the madness.

I heard somewhere (or maybe I imagined it) that if you enlisted you could list three ranked choices of program.  My plan was to enlist and say I wanted Army language school, Army film school, or Army band. I set a date to go to the Oakland Induction Center. 

As the date approached I realized my plan was a product of very naive wishful thinking. I started panicking and looking for alternative ways to escape the fate that awaited me. The two hot items on the rumor mill were to pretend to be gay, or to carry a copy of Catch-22 and pretend to be crazy. The day before going in I decided to take some over the counter No Doz type product, stay up all night, and try to convince them I was having a nervous breakdown.

Being a physically fit 21 year old college dropout standing with hundreds of other young men in a 1965 warehouse-sized Army induction center was terrifying. Just as I was trying to muster the courage to step over to the Psychiatric area, two of the medical examiners walked up to me. As they approached I heard one say, “He’s the one with icthyosis.” And then turning to me he said, “Your feet must crack and bleed in the winter”.

I was about to say no, but dumbfounded, suddenly realized the opportunity they were giving me. I changed my answer mid-sentence. “Oh yeah, it’s really bad.” That millisecond was a major crossroads in my life. It determined that I would not be sent to Vietnam.

“Your feet will bleed all over our boots. That’s a problem. Step over here.” 

These were my angels from above. I never thought my fairly mild dry skin condition would save  my life. They gave me a 1-Y status and said to come back in a year.  I didn’t say it then, but I knew instantly there was no way in hell I would ever be coming back. When you narrowly escape catastrophe you don’t voluntarily put yourself back in harm’s way.

I nearly floated out of that building as the sky cleared and an infinite vista opened before me. It was a miracle. I was a free man!! For many years thereafter, whenever I told that story, I said it was the happiest day of my life. 

Next stop, John Ketchum’s Philosophy House.