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ksquared

11/24/24 4:27 PM

#5417 RE: Koog #5416

My draft number was 39.

That put a knot in my stomach.
Flashback to freshman year the night of the first lottery.
I was with a bunch of sophomore guys clustered around a rare TV in a dorm room -- silently thanking God I am a female. One of the kids drew a 3... and started crying. It was the first time I saw a guy cry. (Men/boys were different back then.) Horrible night.

Thank you for your involuntary service and I'm glad you're alive. Dirty little war. In all honesty, I wasn't particularly concerned about the Vietnamese. The whole thing seemed like a waste of American lives. The worst part was the disgraceful way the soldiers were treated when they got home. I ran off to NYC the year after I graduated with a Vietnam vet. He was a sniper who did two Marine tours of duty and had 38 kills to his credit. He was 17-19 when he was there. His parents signed him into the service at his request. He was a romantic who saw himself as the death-defying hero. The reality scarred him for life. He did not talk about it, but we were together long enough that bits and pieces of the story slipped out. He also had a severe drinking problem. I asked him if he could go for 24 hours without drinking. He said if he didn't drink, he'd dream. And every time he dreamed, he was back in the jungle. I knew he told the truth. He woke up one morning poised to defend himself. I just stood in the bedroom door calling his name until he fully woke up. God bless him.

Here's to Alice, the song she inspired, and all the men and women who were drawn into that "police action."
Cheers.