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Thomas Balistrieri, Ed.D.'s avatar

I remember returning to college my sophomore year, the Vietnam War and the draft staring every young man down. In particular I remember the night of the lottery when birthdays were pulled out randomly assigning us to our place in line for selection. Dozens of us sat around a radio, yes a radio no stadium size TV’s in 1970, waiting anxiously to hear our fate. The announcer stated in very clear terms, ‘if your number is chosen at number 150 or less you will be going to Vietnam.’ The first birthday was drawn. One of the guys in the room literally screamed as his draft number was #1. The next day this guy jammed a knife into his thigh thinking this would protect him. Doctors who worked on him did not turn him in, informed his leg would heal just fine, but a murmur discovered while in the operation would. Story after story appeared because of that night. The kid whose number 365 labeled luckiest kid on campus. Kids joining ROTC the next day. Others on deferment and low number doubling down on studying, that was me, #112. It was quite a night leading to the eventual deaths of some in that room from war, others finding their manhood and others relieved and able to just drink and go to class. I wouldn’t wish that night, a draft or a war on anyone. Except those that want it and then let them go fight it.

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Loquor's avatar

We must remember how the Gulf of Tonkin, Pearl Harbor, 9/11, tragic as they are, was used to expand/cement dominance and extract resources…

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