What was the draft like during the Vietnam War? Was it better to be drafted or to avoid being drafted?

What was the draft like during the Vietnam War? Was it better to be drafted or to avoid being drafted?

My family had immigrated to the US in 1960 and in 1966, when I turned 18 I was still a non-citizen. But the draft board did not care and I still had to register, just like any other 18 year old.

By then, I was in college but had no idea what to do with my life. My grades were poor and being drafted was imminent. So I decided to get it over with. I volunteered for the draft which means the draft board moves your name to the top of the list. By December 1966 I was in basic training at Fort Ord, Ca to begin serving my 2 year term.

And in basic, I learned a new term: “Infantry.” It was clear I was being trained as a replacement for the casualties our grunts were taking in VN. Initially, I was OK with the infantry but one thing really bothered me. Assuming I’d survive, the only marketable skill I’d learn was how to sleep outside in the rain and sneak up on little Asian men. Neither skill would be useful in civilian life. But the Army had a solution, as the Army always does. If I would sign up for a third year of service, they would send me to a school of my choice. And Huey helicopter maintenance school, Fort Eustis VA, sounded really attractive. It seemed safe and would provide skills that would last a lifetime. So I signed for the extra year.

Unfortunately, most of the Army’s helo inventory was in VN and my MOS was a sure ticket there. And worse, my job wasn’t safe at all. Once I’d gained maintenance experience in the hangar, I was assigned to be a flying crewchief. This was supposed to be a voluntary position but when you’re 19, you don’t want to be seen as chicken, right? By April 1968 I was sitting in the drafty doorway of a Huey with an M60 machine gun in my hands.

One thousand flight hours later I’d lost two pilots and four helos to enemy action and crashes. The last crash, March 23, 1969, hurt me and I was sent home to recover. That took a year. In the meantime, in July 1969 I was discharged. And a few months later, I drove to a courthouse in Los Angeles, raised my right hand, and proudly became…….an American citizen.

God bless America.