My father was an infantryman in WW2. He took shrapnel in his leg during a fire fight and spent several weeks in a Paris hospital. After his recuperation he was assigned to a sort of MP duty to investigate black market sales of staple commodities (bread, milk, etc.) I wish I'd had the foresight to ask him about his experiences, but I didn't, and he never really talked much about the war. I think he lost some friends there. He did bring home some cool stuff, though, including a Nazi motorcycle, behind which, I've been told, my mother used to tow me in my stroller. The story goes on that she once lost hold and I careened into a ditch. (That's my excuse - Denny Crane blames Mad Cow - I blame my mother ditching me from the back of a Nazi motorcycle.) Anyway, when they began calling draft numbers for the Viet Nam war - wait a minute! That was never officially a "war" - was it? Nevertheless, at the time, I had relinquished my student deferment, dropped out of U. of Oregon and was working with the Hudson brothers in a band called "The New Yorkers". We'd just signed a management deal with Clive Fox and he'd moved us into a house in LA. We actually never lived there, but we stored stuff there that was subsequently stolen. My mailing address at the time was the Hudson's house in Portland, Oregon, where I resided on the front room couch (that's a whole 'nother story!) As fate would have it, we returned from a road trip to find that I'd been invited to appear for my draft physical. In checking the calendar it turned out that we were scheduled to be in LA on the day of my physical, so I called the draft board and requested a continuance. They granted that, and, just to confuse them more, I changed my address to that of the house in LA where we were storing future stolen goods and crashing on the floor. A month later I got another letter requesting that I appear for my physical - this time in LA. Well, wouldn't you know it - we were scheduled to be in the studio in Portland on the day of my physical. So I called the LA draft board and requested another extension. They thereupon scheduled me for my physical in Portland the week after our sessions there. They had me. Well - I was really worried. I loved the life of a budding pop star - flitting from LA to New York for gigs and doing cool stuff like the Steve Allen show, hangin' with Harry Nillson, Keenan Wynn, etc. I didn't want to give that up for the jungles of Viet Nam. So I talked to everybody I could think of about ways to get out. I considered Canada (which would have just as effectively ended my musical career), I considered pleading gay (which would have led to much worse consequences), I considered eating weird concoctions to throw off my blood chemistry...but in the end I did nothing and determined to face my fate. I showed up at my appointed time and stood in line for the required poking and prodding. At the end of the line a medic called me into a room and told me to come back the next day for subsequent tests. He told me exactly what and what no to eat and drink and said that I would be taking a series of blood tests throughout the day. At the end of that day I was informed that I was being classified 4-F due to a high blood sugar condition. I was actually alarmed to find out about this, as I had totally complied with their instructions about what to eat and drink and had done nothing to try to trick the tests. The army medic advised me to consult a doctor about my condition, gave me my 4-F card and sent me on my way. Well, as glad as I was to be out of harm's way vis a vis going to war, I was concerned about my health. I saw a doctor, who prescribed a sensible diet, and I've never had any subsequent problem with my blood sugar. Apparently a higher power had other plans for me. And, as resolved as I had been to go through with the military had I been asked to serve, I was quite relieved. For all those who died in Viet Nam instead of me, I say a prayer of thanks today. Not that I feel that the incursion into that part of the world was any more justified than what we're doing now in the middle east, I do, at least, respect those who have taken it upon themselves to do the bidding of our Commander In Chief, whether right or wrong. Today we remember all our friends and family who sacrificed themselves to greater or lesser degrees in the name of America's freedom. On this Memorial Day, I join the rest of America in remembering those who have served. I pray that the time will come when we can call our troops home and enjoy a moment of peace in the world.
Responses