In December of 1969, when the original lottery was held, a large group of my fraternity brothers had gathered in the "T.V." room at the house. The beer was flowing. My story is pretty dull. I received a low number–– 72, I recall. I had several factors going for me. First, I was graduating in ’72, and I expected that either the war would be over or the numbers of draftees would be going down by that time. Second, I was "blessed" with horrible near-sightedness. I wore Coke-bottle thick glasses, without which I couldn’t hardly see my hand in front of my face. Surely, I reasoned, that would keep me out. Third, and most importantly, my plan and goal after graduation had always been to go to Divinity school (seminary, in my case). By the time graduation rolled around I enrolled at seminary, which carried the automatic deferrment.
Many of my frat brothers who received low numbers signed up the next day for ROTC, the logic being it was better to be an officer than a private.