Chapter 1 - Exemption (D)
Sometimes in life, we do some things we come to regret. Some sooner than others.
"Darrel Curtis, the recruitment officer is available to see you now. He's the third door on your right."
"Thank you, Ma'am," I replied. I passed several other young men in the waiting area and began down the stark hallway until I came to the door that read 'LT. TOM WILSON.' The door was slightly open, so I knocked lightly. "Curtis?" a gravelly voice barked from inside.
"Yes, Sir." I pushed open the door. The man before me was middle-aged, and army to the core. He probably came out of his mama with a crew cut, camouflage diaper, and his first words were probably "Yes, Sir!"
"Have a seat, Son, and state yer business." This man commanded respect, and under his piercing gaze, I felt all of two years old. I felt like a low-life, scum of the Earth draft dodger. He knew my purpose; now he was waiting for my excuse.
"Well, Sir, I came to see about a draft exemption. My letter came this week," I began. Lt. Wilson stretched, leaned slowly back in his chair, and stared me down. After an eternity, he spoke.
"Why?" It was a challenge, a dare. My Curtis blood rose to the challenge, and I leaned forward and met his gaze.
"Lt. Wilson, I'm not some naive, scared schoolboy tryin' to hide behind his mama's skirts. I know you've heard every excuse known to man, God, and the Devil. Excuses from cowards. But guess what, Sir, I ain't a coward."
"I never said you were, Son. You're the one with the guilty conscience. I only asked you why. Why do you want this exemption?"
"It's not that I don't want to serve, Sir. It's actually kinda shameful bein' left behind. People look at me and I can see it in their eyes. 'You're young, fit. Why are you here while my Jim is off fighting? You coward.' There are other things I have to think about. My parents were killed a few years back and that left me as the sole caretaker for my two brothers. I fought tooth and nail everyday to keep us together, and an 'invitation' from Uncle Sam ain't gonna take that away. I won't let it."
"How old?" he responded cooly, unexpectedly.
"Excuse me?"
"Your brothers. How old?"
"Sixteen and Eighteen. Why?"
"They still in school?"
"Yes, Sir. One of them at least, anyway. He does real well too. He doesn't always use his head, but we've been able to keep it pointed in the right direction at least."
Lt. Wilson studied me for what seemed like another small eternity. "It's a shame," he finally said lightly. I must have given him a confused look because he continued. "You would have made a good soldier, Curtis. Maybe even made a career out of it. You're young, strong, responsible, and I can see that you've got a fierce protective streak. That's a good thing out there in the heat of battle. How old are you, anyway?"
I recovered from his abrupt change in demeanor, and managed to answer, "Twenty-Two."
"Well, in a couple years when the kid brother of yours graduates, it wouldn't be too late. You should consider it."
"So does this mean…"
"Yeah, Son. You've got your exemption. I can put it under a Family Hardship. What you're doing is commendable, and I won't tear you from it. We gotta keep our home front strong as well as our overseas forces. If we lose our families, we lose the country."
A tidal wave of relief and disbelief washed over me. Things weren't going to change. Vietnam drifted away like a forgotten nightmare, and we were safe. I excused myself with thanks from the Lieutenant's office and made my way back down the hallway. I left that office infinitely lighter than when I had entered, and for the next few months, life continued pretty much the same as it had since Mama and Dad had left.