My Dad sat silently beside me; an unexpected support. The retired officer and now draft official in front of us quizzed me on my reasons for refusing. Since I was a selective objector I was not eligible to be considered for a conscientious objectors deferment. A Federal Bench Warrant would be issued and I was only one police shakedown from being caught. However, it was possible to enlist for three years as a medic. The man was satisfied with my answers and my attitude and so I was allowed to swear in.
Just like that, snap, all was forgiven. I gave up and they took control. My life was out of my hands and all the ground rules changed. I've never been quite the same since.
At Ft Ord in California, I was tested and offered OCS. A six month or maybe a year of officer training and then off to Nam as a 2nd. LT. However, that meant serving in armor infantry or artillery. I wouldn't be a medic so I said "no" and stuck to my original contract - 3 years guaranteed medic school. This was my first real clue as to how fucked up the Army was; if they wanted me for an officer they had to be in a bad way.
Off I went to Ft Lewis for basic training. I was assigned to A 21 - the motto was "We are the best! We lead the rest! Raaaaghh!" That was a blur. Everything was new and confusing. I recall how my long and very thick hair jammed the barber's clippers. He angrily cut them free and finished buzzing my head bare. I was faced with all new problems and had to make personal compromise a part of daily life. Shouting "kill! kill!" as a cheer was the smallest of the problems I faced.
Getting ready for Nam turned out to be both a serious and a ridiculous pastime. I was 19, about to turn 20. The Green Machine paid me no never mind. I was just another part, a tool to be fitted in and used hard.
Basic and AIT went exactly as the Army intended. I was now a soldier. My first duty station was at Womack Army Hospital, Ft. Bragg, NC. My assignment was to 91-C school for almost a year of training. While waiting for a class to start I was put in pre C training, working in a septic surgery ward. The ward was mostly full of guys my age with debilitating wounds that were grossly infected. I got a lot of hands on training in wound treatment and I made a new sort of friend, the Army combat soldier.
I kept the ward updated on the anti-war and the Black Power movements. That made me unpopular with the Army. I was called into personnel and told to knock it off and to sign an extension to my service contract.
They basically wanted me to serve a full enlistment after my school. I remember telling the guy I wouldn’t sign an extension to be a doctor. That turned out to be the wrong thing to say to the wrong person. A few days later I got new orders: the next stop is Vietnam.
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