May 27, 1968 I was to report downtown for my physical. Armed with a manifesto from the MOC, I was about to do battle with the hated SSS. First course of action was to attach a whistle ring to my finger for vocal awareness that I was in their building. Next step was to share a hit of window pane acid with a friend and fellow pre inductee, Fred Hirsch. We tripped through the entire process high as kites. Both of us were determined to beat them. Instead of following orders about keeping our papers in order, we of course mixed them all up. We failed every written test they gave us. Being young and healthy we both were physically fit but MOC said that psychologically we would be unwanted if we could convince them.
For me the opportunity came when I failed the hearing test and they wanted to test me in a small individual booth. I refused to go in to this booth and just stammered that I was afraid. Remembering that the patients I had taken care of at the mental health center never knew why they were there and couldn't describe their illness if they tried was my key. I was ushered into to see the psychiatrist. He looked me over, saw the acid craze in my eyes, asked me why I wouldn't submit to the small booth and when I said I don't know that I am just afraid he muttered, "Unfit for military service, classify 4-F". I smiled inside.
|My Draft Status - 1968|
My friend, Fred Hirsch, who took the same trip that day was given the same deferment. We both were traumatized by that ordeal. Several months later he committed suicide.
|My Wisconsin Identification Card - 1966|