Vietnam War Draft Lottery

Rick, California, 1969. No. 049: Not A Winner

I was at a UK basketball game that night and when we returned to our fraternity house (Lambda Chi Alpha) there was a list on the bulletin board that showed the results of the first lottery, listed from #1 to #365.

One of my fraternity brothers saw his birthday at #1 and excitedly said "I won!". The rest of us let him know we weren't so sure about that.

I ended up getting a draft exemption.

Jerome, Massachusetts, 1969. No. 143: Fearful of the Future

I was part of the generation of college men who "sweated" through the first lottery experience. I was with a group of other non-fraternity UK college guys who met at an apartment that evening, with plenty of beer, liquor, and spaghetti, glued to the TV screen. We anticipated that some of us would need support--which proved to be true. As it turned out, several guys were in the first draft call based on their low numbers. I was No. 143, thought to be just on the line, and I was later notified to report to a draft center in Louisville for the physical. However, I was never drafted.

I recall that evening very clearly as a potentially life-changing experience. The only other time in my life when I was so fearful of the future was the Cuban missile crisis, when I thought I'd surely die in a nuclear attack!

Mike, Ohio, 1969. No. 207: Contradictions

I was in my fifth year of college when the first draft lottery occurred in December, 1969. I followed the lottery on local television in Toledo. There was no continuous coverage, just a few numbers mentioned at commercial breaks. So it wasn't until the 11 p.m. news that I found my number was 207.

The next day, in the local paper, a general stated that almost all the numbers would be called. This seemed possible when the Selective Service reached number 180 in July, 1970. But in August, they stopped at 195. Also, the Selective Service decided not to count those college classes taken before a student reached the draft age of 19 years old, which could allow a fifth year of student deferment to those who started college at 18

I supported the war, but I did not want to serve in the military. There were too many contradictions in the system. Local draft boards could have different rules, and deferments seemed arbitrary.

Andy, Colorado, 1969. No. 275: Divine Signal

I was due to be drafted when I flunked out of Colby college in 1969 and was certified I-A and given an induction date. Between that date and the date of my induction, they changed over to the lottery system and I drew a number of 275, which meant I was way down the list of potential draftees.

I took that as a divine signal to get my ass back into school, and after making up some credits at a California J.C. was able to transfer to UCLA where I got my B.A. in History in 1972.

Marc, Virginia, 1969. No. 350: Laugh It Off

I tried half-heartedly to get out of the draft in the 1966 and 1967, my senior year in college. I applied to join the Peace Corps. Turned out there were more applicants in 1966 than in any other year in the Peace Corps' history. I didn't get in. I applied to Air Force OCS. Again, lots of people were applying; few were chosen. I didn't get in.

So I submitted to the draft. I was drafted on July 11, 1967, and spent two years in the Army, including a year in Vietnam. I got out of the Army on July 10, 1969, and started graduate school in September.

What's my lottery story? Well, when the lottery began in December 1969, I checked my birthday. It turned out to be number 350. In other words, if I had evaded the draft for two more years, I never would have been taken. When I heard the news, I had one reaction: I burst out laughing.

Ben, Kentucky, 1969. No. 108: Fighter Pilot's Son

I remember it like it was yesterday. About 40 young men all crowded into the Television Room of the Sigma Chi Fraternity House on the campus of the University of Kentucky in Lexington. I really can't remember the month ... just the moment. As birthdates were pulled and posted, guys were either slowly peeling out of the room with heads down or jumping out of their chairs with restrained joy. I was a tweener and wasn't sure were I stood at 108 ... so I went down to the draft board to check my status.

Only THEN did I fiind out what the IV-A status on my draft card meant. Until then I had never paid any attention to it. I was the sole surviving son of a veteran killed in action. Lt. Cmdr. B. T. Pugh gave up his life as a Navy fighter pilot on a cold December day in 1951 when I was two years old. He flew off of the U.S.S. Valley Forge and had won the DSC a few days earlier.

As a IV-A classification, I was not going to be called. Several of my very close friends either enlisted, jumped into a campus ROTC program, or just went out and got drunk ... awaiting their fate. A few didn't return.

Jim, Ohio, 1969. No. 003: Draft Bus To Louisville

I received my undergraduate degree from Ohio State in December, 1967. When I called my draft board in Butler County, Ohio, they advised me that I was number one on its list, as my college deferment had ended. I decided to enlist and did so in January/February 1968. After being sworn in and while I was still on the Army's 120 day delay program, a college football back injury became much worse necessitating disc surgery. I was then medically discharged from the Army.

I then gained admission to UK Law School beginning the fall of 1968. In 1969, I remember watching the draft lottery and it didn't take long for my birth date to be picked--mine was the third one pulled.

Shortly thereafter, I received a Draft Notice and had to catch a "draft bus" at 4:30 am in Lexington with many other males, to go to Louisville for a draft physical. I thought to myself that the Army was going to take me right out of law school. After spending more than 14 hours in Louisville and being thoroughly medically evaluated, the bus returned us to Lexington.

Sometime later (within a couple weeks), after being in mental limbo while continuing my pursuit of a Juris Doctor, I received written notification that I had been rejected for military duty. I graduated from law school May 8, 1971.

Eddie, Kentucky, 1969. No. 015: Not a Day More

I lived in a house on Transylvania Avenue with 5 other guys. On the night of the drawing I went over to the School of Journalism to see the lottery results with a friend. My number came up 15 and I knew that serving my country was ahead for me. A few beers were consumed on the roof of the porch that night.

As far as the other five guys in the house, one had an auto accident shortly afterwards and damaged an eye, which disqualified him from service. Another was in Army ROTC and went on to become a full bird colonel. Two others were in the Army reserve already and I do not know what happened to either one. The fifth one got married (girl friend pregnant) and got a deferment.

As for me, my draft board allowed me to finish my degree, but not a day more. I enlisted in the Air Force, became an instructor and served my entire enlistment state side.

Donald, New York, 1972. No. 028: My War, My Time

I had watched the Vietnam war unfold since 1965 when my uncle headed to Vietnam with the 3rd Marine division. He ended up in Danang, a strange name I'd never heard of before, but I guess that's the nature of any war, even today. I was just entering high school in 1965 and little did I know then that Uncle Sam was due to come knocking on my door. I was a supporter of the Vietnam war until it changed dramatically around 1969-1970. Before that it appeared we were in it to win it. Still I wasn't going to enlist but was kind of hoping I would get drafted.

I spent a year in college in 1969-1970 and that was a bad year to try to get an education. I would go to my classroom and my professor decided we were going to hold English class on the green while a war protest was going on. So I decided by the end of that year to say the hell with this BS. I had just turned 18 in 1970, and my draft status was changed from II-S, student deferment to I-S (not I-A which was pack your bag bud you won a trip to Vietnam all expenses paid). My mother was in a panic when I told her I wasn't going back to college the next year and she started talking crazy talk: I almost lost my brother in WWII and his brother fought in Korea and all my uncles were in the Pacific and another fought with the fighting 69th in WWI. My answer at the time was, well, this is my war, my time.

In September 1970 I enrolled at RCA Institutes, an Electronics trade school in a two-year program. Hell, one month after I graduated HS, they landed on the moon. I thought I better get in on the ground floor because we'll be working there in 30 years. Dumb ass kid I was! My draft status went back to II-S student deferment.

Then in March of 1972 they pulled the lottery numbers and sure as hell I drew number 28. I knew then I was going to be wearing a uniform someplace. I had one month to graduate from school and I had to report to Ft. Hamilton for a pre-induction physical. I saw every kid I ever went to school with that day, all standing around in tee shirts and drawers waiting on the doctors. That's a story in itself, but at the end they said well congratulations! I said oh good, did you find I have something wrong with me, like flat feet? He said oh NO! you are perfectly well, and expect to hear from us by May or June. I was pissed off now. I had finally gotten my life on a path and the US Army was going to screw it up. Soldiers were being sent home from Vietnam. They were turning it over to the South Vietnamese to run, badly. And by March of '72 the North Vietnamese were attacking the South with tanks and frontal assults and I guess Nixon didn't want the war to end in a defeat, I think they also feared another TET-like attack in the whole country. What to do? I had always wanted to fly helicopters, so I went to a guard unit at Floyd Bennet field. Guard units generally had waiting lists or were full complement and you couldn't get in.

Then my friend suggested the Navy Reserve. He spent a year on Midway as a cook. That didn't sound like fun. Then I went to the old arsenal in Brooklyn and found two torpedoes turned upside down in the concrete. I figured it was the Submarines. I knocked on the door and nobody answered. I found out later on that it was a Marine reserve unit I was pounding on the door to get in. Finally I said screw it. Draft my ass. Then a friend of mine from high school told me he had enlisted in a guard unit on 14th St in Brooklyn, an Artillery unit. So I went down and signed up and was placed on the wait list. Three weeks went by and they called me down to swear me in. I agreed to a 6 year enlistment. Three days later, still in April, i received a draft notice and a token to report to Ft. Hamilton. Because the State grabbed me before the Federal Government, I was theirs.

I lived on Ft. Hamilton parkway and would see all the future soldiers being bused to the base. I didn't need a token, I could walk to the base. So, the guy at the physical was full of it. They should have taken me while they had the chance, but in the end I'm sorry I didn't just enlist at 18. It wasn't so bad. When they finally sent us all to training in Ft. Polk, LA it was already February 1973. By June I was at Ft. Sill, OK. We watched the POWs coming off the plane, and the war was just about over. In my graduation
class, nobody received any orders to report to Vietnam. Once Vietnam fell on April 30th, 1975 our training changed. We went back to hiding our howitzers in the tree lines again like WWII. No more out in the open.

The kids today that make up the services should be proud that they made a commitment without it being forced on them. Vietnam was a bad chapter in our history, but the thing about history is you should never repeat bad things. This is a great country, always has been. Just sometimes it's run by poor choices.

Jim. Kentucky, 1969. No. 348: The Box Score

The night of the first lottery I was with a gal pal in Shawnee Town south of campus, babysitting for some married friends of hers. We poured some drinks from the bottle of whiskey I had brought along and turned on the tube to watch the drawing. My birthdate is November 3 and sure enough, early November dates were unusually prevalent in the first 20 or so draws.

I freaked...it looked really bad. I turned off the TV and finished off the whiskey (mostly by myself as my partner had to be alert for the kids) and stumbled back to my apartment on nearby Shawnee Place.

I greeted the next morning with a world-class hangover, opened a breakfast beer, grabbed the Lexington Herald-Leader and sat at the kitchen table. I bypassed the lottery story itself and went straight to the "box score" of the draws. If memory serves, the draws were ranked in three columns in ascending order. My shaking finger started with No. 1 and slowly slid down the the list. There was a whimper with every November date appearing, but November 3 did not show up in the first column of about 125 dates.

Okay, I thought, there's still hope and my finger started down the second column, a little faster than before. About halfway through the column my day started to improve--still no November 3. By the end of the second column--about 250 dates--I was becoming giddy.

Finally, in the third column I found November 3...No. 348! I just sat and stared. I couldn't believe it...I had won the most important lottery of my life.

On to the Paddock!