Luck of the Draft 

Vietnam Draft Lottery. Source: www.wearethemighty.com

Jimmy got his draft notice in the mail. He saw it as a death sentence. So many young men like him were dying in Vietnam. Others were coming home maimed for life. He did not sleep much up until his departure. He indulged in all the things he might never do again, and which were his right in a free country. Then he packed his bag, said goodbye to his tearful family, and left early one morning for the draft office. 

Once there, he was booked in, given his kit and a haircut (no more long hair for you), and loaded onto the bus to basic training. Walking down the aisle he saw his own emotions plastered onto the faces of his fellow future soldiers. Wide eyes staring into infinity, sweaty foreheads, clinched jaws, and tight stomachs. They sat there waiting for the bus to fill up and for the door to close on their future. The door closed.

It opened again, and an officer appeared. “You can all go home now,” he said with a straight face. “The war’s over.” 

At first, they thought it a bad joke, a sort of preliminary hazing, and for a moment no one moved. Then they realized he was serious. 

The shock of having to go compounded with the shock of now not going, gradually subsided and was replaced with relief and then elation, as first one man then the next shouted for joy, and they high-fived and hugged one another. 

The war was over, it was really over! 

The commanding officer took it all in and couldn’t help by smile. He was glad for them, but it would have been unprofessional to join in. He was, after all, a career military man. “Good luck boys,” he said, and exited the bus.

*    *    *

Some time later, Jimmy received another letter from the government which informed him that, for his service to the country, he would receive a military pension, in the form of a monthly check, the first of which he now held in his hand. 

was an obvious administrative error which presented a moral dilemma. It certainly would be nice to receive a check every month from the government. He could use the money, and the government that was so ready to send him off to war wouldn’t miss it. 

But he hadn’t actually served, and to cash those checks would have been to steal from fellow Americans, trivialize the sacrifice of all those who had served, and dishonour those who had died in the war. 

No, he could not, in good conscience, take the money. So he went down to the draft office to inform them of their mistake.

Jimmy waited in line and when it came his turn he explained his situation to the officer on duty. “You’ve sent me a check for a military pension, and I haven’t served.” 

The officer looked at him strangely, in an almost pitying way. “It’s all right,” he said. “I know it was tough over there, but we’re all very proud of you and you’ve earned it.” 

Jimmy looked at him perplexed. “But I was never in Vietnam,” he persisted. 

“There, there,” the man said, leaning over his desk and giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder. “You’ve done your duty, son. Just go on home now and rest, and thank you for your service.” 

Jimmy sat there dumbfounded, before getting up slowly from his chair and stumbling out the door into the bright afternoon sun.

 

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- Markus