I remember the night of the lottery well. We all gathered in the common room of the fraternity house to see what numbers would be selected for our birthdays in the lottery. I got there a few minutes late and they had already picked the first ten numbers. I asked did anyone see February 27th come up? I got a couple of "I don’t think so’s." I grabbed a seat and watched carefully as the fate of many of my fraternity brothers was decided. I got up and went to the bathroom when they got to about the 203rd pick. When I hurried back I had only missed a couple of numbers and asked again if anyone heard February 27th picked. More "I don’t think so’s". I sat there until the end and never heard my number. I concluded that they must have called my number in the first ten I had missed. I drowned my sorrows with the other "lucky winners" and went to bed that night thinking about how I was going to look in khaki.

I got up early the next morning to get a paper and confirm my bad luck, but was elated to see that they must have called my number while I had stepped out of the room to use the bathroom. There it was in black and white: February 27th–draft lottery number 205. One of the happiest days of my life.