As the evening dragged on, our gathering around the radio dwindling as the draft dates were drawn, I became convinced that my number had come and I had missed it. I knew that I had to be in the first echelon of birth dates. I had already been reclassified as I-A, had undergone and passed the humiliation of the physical, and was convinced that I would be called into the service in spite of my employment as a high school teacher. Then, my birthday was drawn. It was deep into the lottery and I was profoundly relieved. Though 25 at the time, I feel that having No. 307 allowed me the opportunity to consider the rest of my life and to make choices without Selective Services interference.
I recall going to the physical with a close friend. "Drop your drawers. Bend over. Now cough." My friend as he coughed nearly collapsed in pain. The medical attendee told him he had a hernia. He was to go home, have it fixed, and then return for yet another physical. To my knowledge, he chose to live with the hernia, an option preferable to a I-A classification.