Goodbye, little girl –
My lottery number was the worst. President Johnson and Uncle Sam needed me. Nam was waiting for me. My grades weren’t good enough for a deferment. I was about to leave my home of eighteen years.
She looked at me with red puffy eyes. Her sorrowful gaze was hard to ignore and the devil to escape.
“You’re leaving me here, aren’t you? Take me with you!”
I cast my eyes down. I barely whispered a “Yes, I have to go to war. And, I can’t take you with me.” I looked back up to find her still staring me with those sad eyes.
“Why?” she asked as tears streamed down her face. Her eyes pleaded with me to stay without a hint of mature understanding. The kid wanted what she wanted.
As calmly as I could, I explained, “Because, I am a man. I have to go off to do what men have always done. Fight for their country and defend the loved ones they leave at home. One day, I will return for you. I promise.”
This time, she cast her eyes down. “How do you know I will be here when you get back? I might have grown up and married the milkman and moved away.” I appreciated her confidence that I was coming back. I also laughed at her silly jab. Even through all the terror of facing my unknown future, her humor shined through this dark moment.
“Somehow, I don’t think so. You’ll be here waiting for me. Along with mom and dad. And the others. Take care of yourself. I love you. Goodbye, little girl.”
“I love you too.” she said. Our lips met in a quick goodbye kiss, but it felt so cold and distant. I turned and grabbed my suitcase off of my bed.
I looked back at the mirror hanging on the back of my bedroom door where she was just a second ago and saw she was already gone. A “soldier to be” looked back at me reminding me that it was time to go. I headed downstairs and said a sad farewell to my mom, dad, and my sisters.
After a hug from them all, I slipped into a waiting cab. As the cab drove me away to the induction center, I looked back up towards my window and saw her waving at me.
Two years, I thought. In two years, I can come back to set her, no, us free. I promise.
Copyright © 2018 by AuP reviner
Comments
This Hurt
I hope she makes it.
Portia
Statistically speaking ...
Take heart. I think she will be fine.
For those involved in the Vietnam conflict, the odds were only 2% likely to be killed and 2% likely to be significantly injured.
While not fantastic odds, they were far better than what happened to the Vietcong. Approximately 1.1 million northern Vietnamese were killed or injured during the Vietnam war.
On our side, just the Americans, only about 58,000 soldiers were killed in action.
During the sixties, only 2% of that generation actually went to Vietnam.
The greatest damage to the soldier who fought in Vietnam was the psychological warfare they had to endure when they returned. They were not welcomed. They were spat upon. They held it inside because no one would listen.
I wrote this story to remind us what it cost the soldier who was called to serve and what dreams they had to leave behind.
Thank a soldier today for their sacrifice if you have the chance. They need their wounds healed too.
AuP
The Homecoming
I loved this, as sad is it was...
I would love to see a follow up to this.
Something along the lines of The Homecoming or maybe Coming Home.
It wouldn't have to be any longer than this one. Something like:
I had seen so many terrible things, had done what men have to do to survive in war.
Maybe I had changed too much. I was afraid she'd no longer be there waiting for me...
and I would hope it would end on a happy note ("Hello, Little Girl...).
I don't ask for much, do I? Ignore me, I always do this
when I like a story but I usually keep it to myself...
~hugs, Veronica (Lottery #314 in 1973... Whew!!!)
What borders on stupidity?
Canada and Mexico.
.
In the 1st Draft Lottery, Around Thanksgiving,
My number was one, 1st letter of my last name was 2nd, 'G', 1st was 'J'. About a month later, senior year at MIT, I had a crippling depressive episode, probably connected; my first of many.
End of Spring I had my draft physical; I was fit, 4 years on the light weight rowing team against mainly Ivy League opponents; Harvard was always best and best in the nation.
I told the shrink I was TV. He wanted to know how I knew that word; stupid because all MIT kids had great vocabularies. I told him: a Time Magazine article, "In The Bedroom" from Nov. '64. I got a 1Y, later changed to a 4F.
I didn't have to work on my CO defense. About five years to recover from the depression, but it came back. Not really from Nam; genetic, runs in my Mom's family.
Hugs and Bright Blessings,
Renee
First Lottery
That was a horrible night sitting around watching TV to see when your birthdate would be called. I'm not at all surprised you became depressed. Whoever thought up the draft probably could've written The Hunger Games.
I was 77; and as I remember it they said everyone up to 125 would be called to duty.
At least with a draft people understood there was a cost to war. Now we make false promises to wide-eyed 18-year old patriots about benefits they'll never get.
Every time someone in Washington talks about how much we love our vets I want to puke.
I failed my physical due to injuring my back.
Jill
Angela Rasch (Jill M I)
Draft lottery
By the time of the first lottery, I was already in the Army, having been drafted in November 1968. My number was 71, so I would have been drafted if I weren't already serving. However, I was lucky. After training, I was sent to Germany where I served for 19 months before being discharged in November 1970.
Not All Bad
A very dear friend of mine got drafted and served his time as an MP (he had no idea why they picked him). He was in Saigon the whole time and never fired his rifle. He collected the mail for his company and was the designated driver for the company jeep.
He actually got a medal for driving without an accident and his buddies nicknamed him War Hero. That's how lucky you can be!
Very poignant
I was pretty sure I knew where this one was going, but had to continue reading because until the M word we aren't quite sure. Thank you.
>>> Kay