I remember the night the 1969 draft lottery results were broadcast.  Several of my friends gathered at a friend’s dorm room at Duke University to listen to the results (we were all juniors).  If my memory is correct, I did not hear my number until the list was repeated.  While my friends all got high numbers, I got a borderline low number, high enough to offer some chance that I would not be called.

As things worked out, I was called for my pre-induction physical in the summer of 1970 at the Boston Naval Base.  I rode a bus in from my home town of Beverly, MA, with some other "pre-inductees," all collected outside the local draft board office.  I do not remember any socializing and I may have been the only college kid in the bunch.

I recall the process as being fairly straight-forward.  A few things stand out.  We were told prior to the intelligence test not to dog it – if we were high school graduates or college students, all that would happen if we flunked the intelligence test is that we would have to take it again.  I did not dog it.

The odd thing that happened to me was the height and weight portion of the physical, administered by a Navy corpsman who was obviously bored to tears.  I was, and still am, a hefty guy, less so in college.  The corpsman weighed me, then measured my height.  I stood up straight and true and he wrote down the number.  Moving to the next station, I noted that he had measured me as 5 foot 8, when I had been 5 foot 10 1/2 since high school.  I thought it odd, but was scarcely going to make an issue of it.  The process was soon over, and I went back to Beverly on the bus.

Some time passed, and I got my classification: 1-H.  If the Russians landed on Cape Cod, I would be called up.  According to the information I received, based on my height and weight I was a little too heavy.  My height, that is, as the corpsman measured it, not as it actually was.  If the corpsman had measured me correctly, I would have been called up, with unknown consequences.  To this day, I have no idea why the corpsman put down the wrong height for me.

My brother served in Vietnam as a lieutenant in PsyOps.  While he was in little danger, I do not think he enjoyed the experience.  I am glad that I did not have to join him.