A few days ago, while I was alluding to one of my historic adventures at Choir Practice, a friend and former student looked at me excitedly and declared, “I want to write your biography!” Then I realized I need to add more stories to this site.
As I drew near the end of my college years, all the talk was about Viet Nam. Some time back in my freshman year I had dutifully gone with some friends to an obscure office in downtown Carrollton to register for the draft. It did not seem strange to us to do this; memories of WW II and the Korean conflict were all around us, in the form of relatives, neighbors, and friends who had been involved. No one we knew - going back to grandparents and great-grandparents - had lived in a time when there was not a war.
The draft was conducted through a lottery at that time, and those with low numbers were vulnerable for call-up. I was incurious about what my number was, even though it was a hot topic of discussion among my peers, because I had already signed up for two years of mission work with the Southern Baptist Foreign Mission board long before graduating. There was some paperwork to fill out at the draft board office (this time in Marietta, instead of Carrollton) to be “reclassified” as 4-D – a ministerial exemption. Some skeptics in the dorm assumed I was only doing this to “dodge the draft,” but my motivation was deeper, and real. I was actually surprised when I arrived at mission training to hear some of the other males admit that avoiding military service had been a factor in their “call.” My naivete shows again.
As soon as I returned from the two year mission, I landed a job in Dallas, Georgia, teaching high school English at Paulding County High School. Having never checked on my lottery number (“If I ignore it, it will go away”), I was pretty shocked when the letter came from Selective Service in November commanding me to report for induction right away. I went immediately to tell my principal, Dave Hardin, who happened to know that he could appeal for a “deferment” until my contract with the school system was completed in June. I knew that deferment only postponed the inevitable, but it gave me a few more months to enjoy teaching, and to consider mentally and emotionally what might be ahead in the military.
By this stage in life, I had friends in both the “hawk” and “dove” camps. The dove friends, exemplified by Mary Fran Hughes (Hong Kong colleague), thought that I should escape to Canada, where some American men were fleeing to avoid military service. My “hawk” friends included guys like high school friend Don Russell, who had already survived a tour in Viet Nam himself. The hawks were not as passionate as the doves. This was not a popular war, and even those who were patriotic had a hard time working up much enthusiasm for it.
The only reason I would have even considered avoiding the draft was because I instinctively knew that I would not be “good” at being a soldier. Of course, I was not unaware of the dangers involved, but could be a bit philosophical about that. Even at that stage in my Christian journey, I knew that my times were in God’s hands, and I would not lose my life in Viet Nam unless that was part of His grand design. But I dreaded an environment in which I could not feel useful or worthy. In the end, I recalled other “uncomfortable” situations when God had enabled (or delivered), and I suspected this would be no different.
Having lived in Hong Kong for a couple of years, I had come to grips with accepting my identity as an American. If being loyal to the country of my birth meant serving in the military, then that was not something I would avoid, even if I didn’t completely understand the reason for this war. I simply had no alternative that I could think of - not with a clear conscience, anyway.
As the day for induction drew near, I remember praying – not for safety – but for Christian fellowship. “Lord, there probably aren’t any Christians in the army, but if there are, please lead me to them for encouragement and growth.” I little imagined how effectively He would answer this prayer!
And so it was that in mid-June, 1971, I found myself on a bus leaving Atlanta for Fort Jackson, South Carolina. Among the 45 other inductees were a dozen or so others who, like me, had just completed a year of teaching. Dread and excitement filled me with anticipation for the next great adventure!
No comments:
Post a Comment