I was in my second year at UCLA, on a student deferment, of course, and I was a member of a fraternity.  We were all subject to the first lottery, and were all congregated around the radio as the numbers were being called.  A frat brother who was born about 2 weeks before me received the number 29.  "They nailed me!  They nailed me!"  he shouted, over and over.  The rest of us, although sympathetic, were a little irritated that he was interfering with our ability to hear the announcer.  After they passed number 200, and my birthday had not been called, I went back to my studies.  I read my number (332) the next day in the paper, much to my relief.

My number 29 friend got his parents to get braces put on his teeth.  He really did have crooked teeth, but now he really wanted and needed to get a medical deferment.  I always thought how nice that was for him, but what of less well-off men who couldn’t pay for something like tooth braces.