At the time I was an anti-Vietnam War organizer, a protestor who had been jailed. I had a strong commitment which since then, thankfully, has never wavered, even though I live in Washington, DC, city of Kerry, McCain, Reed, et. al., where Vietnam service is, more than ever, elevated to heroic status.
No. 43! I planned to get married; I had no plan for the draft. But I had luck. Called quickly for a physical, I failed. Maybe it was the year; so many Americans were opposed to the War, maybe even active duty personnel in the induction centers, I hoped. Only a handful of guys on my bus passed. The rest of us flunked … for hearing loss (rock and roll), for allergies, and, in my case, for having high arches. I could hardly believe it. "Are the tops of your feet always red like that? Do boots hurt?" "Uh, yes." And soon came the IV-F. Saved from going to Saigon or Toronto.
Instead I went to the inner city to teach. A different kind of service. And I am still married, 40 years later.