When I mustered out of the Navy at Treasure Island, I was told that I had 5 days to register for the draft. After they explained what the draft was to me, I wanted to know why after serving 4 years in the Navy I had to register at all. It was explained to me then that the Navy was not considered a military service. Well, that just made absolutely no sense to me what so ever. But, if I had to, I guess I had to. I had already decided to visit my Uncle John back in Arizona so he could see me all growed up and I had 5 days. I figured that I would register there. When I got to Uncle John's, I was having a pretty good visit until I told him about this draft thing. To put it mildly and extremely politely; Uncle John was not pleased.
( remember his temper ) I was supposed to stay at his place and help him, which I was looking forward to. However, doing as I was told, I went ahead and registered. It was at this point that I got my first dose of the "Good Ol Boys Syndrome". You see, it was cutomary that when you registered, you were placed on a list and waited your turn to come up. But, in this case, it didn't happen to work that way. Being that I wasn't local, they simply substituted me for one of their own, saving him ( whomever he was ) and handed me some papers ordering me to report in 10 days for induction into the U. S. Army.
Now, Uncle John really blew a gasket. He was going for his guns, saying, "I'll get those B_S_A_DS!!." I settled him down but... I too was extremely pissed off. Afterall, I was a sailor and I knew all about them Army boys. They were just as screwy as them Jarheads. I had seen them at work in Hawaii often enough. They liked to get all dressed up in their uniforms and march up and down the parade field for hours. Every once in awhile, one of them liked to show off by holding his rifle over his head and run circles around his buddies while they marched. They liked to get yelled at because some guy with alot of stripes was always hollering at them and they never got mad. They liked to take long walks with these heavy packs on. Then when they stopped, they liked to dig deep holes, eat out of a brown box they called c-rats, then take turns sleeping in the holes they had dug. After a day or so, they would do it again. Hell, I even heard they liked to get shot at with real bullets. It just didn't make any sense to me. So, the Army wasn't an option. After 5 days, I told Uncle John I was heading home. He told me that if the S.O.B.'s came looking for me, he would tell them that the last time he saw me....I was walking down the road. Which is exactly what he did when they came hunting me. I really would have loved to have seen that, cause I'm sure ol' Uncle John would be standing there with his .44's strapped on and his hands folded across his chest and that "look" on his face. I feel pretty confident that it was probably a very short conversation.
I knew that I had 90 days to re-enlist and maintain my rate, so I partied hard for 84 days then went to Omaha and re-enlisted. Once sworn in, I showed the Commander my draft card and asked what I should do with it. He just smiled and said, "Son, throw it in the shit can. You're in the Navy now." Well...here is where my memory is a little vague cause I can't recall if I showed him my induction notice or not. Afterall, I am in my 80's now....so, I shit canned both of them.
Therefore, if my son is correct, I was indeed a draft dodger.
Thus endth my criminal career...well, except for one other incident but that's another story.
Pictures to be added as soon as we get them scanned and edited
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