207. That was my number. Anytime I hear that number in the near half-century since, I immediately recognize its significance to me. I think they got to about number 195 the following year to be inducted. Lots of wondering if they would get to my number or not.
I read about the 10 dead from Warner Robins and wish there was some way I could reach out through time and gently kiss their foreheads. I see a group of small boys 8 to 10 years old, playing as small boys do. And I thank my God that there will probably not be a draft hanging over their heads. I remember a headline from the time: BINGO YOU’RE DRAFTED. May God bless our veterans–living and dead.