U.S. Army Enlistment Day - January 1970

In January 1970 I had decided to enlist in the U.S. Army. The draft had been hanging over my head for four years just waiting to explode like a blowout on the highway. I’d had a draft deferment while in college and then the merchant marine, both of which had vanished like pizza at a fraternity party, now I was fresh meat. Enlisting, and getting it over with, seemed smarter than waiting around for the inevitable. How bad could it be? Maybe I could play Army football, I’d heard of that. By joining the Army it would all be over in two years; four years in the Navy or Air Force sounded like a lifetime.

Most of the advice I’d received about joining the Army had been bad. For example, I’d heard of this “foolproof” way to get out and avoid the military from more than one source. “Just spread plenty of peanut butter in your butt crack and when you have to bend over for your physical the doctor will ask you, ‘what is that?’” That’s your cue to grab some, stick it in your mouth and say, “Tastes like crap to me!” These and other ideas just didn’t sound viable. I conjured an image of a sergeant yelling, “Got another peanut butter A-hole here, make sure his butt ends up in Viet Nam!”

When I arrived at the building in downtown Indianapolis I was surprised to find enlistees for the other services as well. One guy in particular was adamant about joining the Marines. He was so excited he acted like he’d just won the lottery. I thought to myself, “Haven’t you seen The D.I. (1957), Jack Webb is going to chew your butt, you moron.” But I kept my thoughts to myself. Soon we were ushered into a room to take a placement type test. The test was basic stuff, but as I looked around the room I detected puzzled expressions on many faces. I began to realize I could be a searchlight among dim bulbs, which wasn’t at all reassuring.

We had to fill out many forms and mechanically I began this task, already resigned to my fate. I tried to answer as best I could. When I got to the medical forms I simply described how I’d torn two ligaments and the cartilage in my right knee playing football in college a little over a year before. No big deal. Then we stood in lines and wasted more time in preparation for our new career of hurry up and wait. Finally it was my turn and the officer looks at me, then looks at my forms. He says, “We want you to see a doctor.”

I didn’t spend much time at the doctor’s office, it was a brief visit. He looked at the file, looked at my knee and said, “Would it break your heart if you didn’t go in the Army son?” I could hardly believe what I was hearing, without hesitation I replied, “No Sir.” I got my draft card with the 4-F deferment shortly thereafter. I was free at last.