Visiting the Vietnam War Memorial
I visited the Vietnam War Memorial last week. I always wondered what my thoughts would be when I visited it. I found out.
But first, my Vietnam War background.
My draft number was 88. My only hope to escape the draft was my student deferment.
I would have made a rotten soldier. I still have never fired a gun in my life. I’m not anti gun, they’re just not for me. Kind of like vegetables. My hands were made to shuffle papers. That’s why I would have made a rotten soldier. At the time the Army needed a lot more people to carry guns than shuffle papers.
Our local Draft Czar, Betty Nelson, wanted me to be a soldier. She had problems with my older brother and it was her plan to take it out on me. I know that because she told me so. She was upfront and honest about it. My brother had legitimate issues with her. If I had to bear that family cross, I was willing to do so.
Anyway, at the first chance possible, Betty revoked my student deferment. Nobody would have had their deferment revoked like I did, but it was. Call it Betty’s revenge. During my appeal process, a loophole was created for a short time that allowed myself and 250,000 others to escape the draft. Betty went ballistic! But, she was powerless to do anything about it.
So, how would this Student Deferment Draft Dodger react when faced with those names?
It wasn’t guilt. I would have been a rotten soldier. They were better off not relying on me to cover their backside. I wouldn’t have been good at it.
It was respect. I felt overwhelming respect. Considering the treatment of returning soldiers from Vietnam, respect was probably the most appropriate feeling I could have had.
It was a moving experience for me.
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April 16th, 2009 at 10:47 am
Actually, your older brother had several problems with Betty Nelson, the local draft board, and the entire bureaucracy she represented. Then, there was the fact that the country was engaged in an illegal and immoral war. Like many, he was just trying to avoid the whole mess and stay alive.
My reaction to the Vietnam War Memorial (I’ve made two visits), has been one of awe. And despair. What a waste of so many good, young lives. What a tragic waste.