Coping, Albeit Not Very Well
There had been ways to avoid getting snagged like that. I could have tried to get a job that came with a draft deferment, like police officer, or elementary school teacher, but I did not. Choosing a career just to avoid military service was not right for me. I decided to enlist instead.
The various branches of the armed forces offered enlistees a choice of programs - but some like-minded friends had been cautioned by their recruiters that no choice of specialty could be guaranteed at this time. Too many Boomers were enlisting at once. I decided not to choose a specialty, but rather to enlist in a branch that would assess my abilities, and then put me where I seemed likely to fit. I chose the Air Force.
The experience of being recruited proved very enlightening and enjoyable. I wish I had room here to discuss it, but instead, I'll say only what follows.
- I had multiple interviews, and I was tested in five areas of capability.
- I was chosen for the pilot/navigator program.
- I took a Flight Physical at McGuire AFB in New Jersey.
- I failed it.
I was blown away by the reason given for rejecting me.
I had (and still have) a hereditary skin condition which requires no medical attention. It is not a "naughty disease." From time to time, a coin-sized reddened area spontaneously develops somewhere on my torso. It lingers for some weeks or months, and then it fades away. At any given time, I may have no "spot," one, two, or - rarely - more. The spots do not itch, ooze, or otherwise get in my way. In adolescence, when the condition first appeared, it was diagnosed by a dermatologist. Prior to the Flight Physical, I got a letter from his office which explained the condition. I had given a copy of the letter to the Air Force doctors who examined me.
I believe that, when told why I had been rejected, I responded in these words: "You mean that I'm unqualified to drop bombs on the enemy because I've got a spot the size of a dime on my belly? That the enemy can't fire rockets back at me, because it would be unfair to shoot down somebody who has a rash? Foolish me - I thought we were trying to win a war."
Failing to restrain a smile, the presiding officer apologized: "Sorry; that's the way it is."
As long as the ice had been broken, I asked if he could offer any opinion about my prospects for enlisting in other branches of the service. Off the record, he said that I'd likely be rejected, because so many of us were enlisting at once that all of the armed forces could afford to be "picky." He volunteered that Selective Service, on the other hand, could not afford to be picky - they had quotas to meet, and they probably were prepared to overlook a number of minor ailments.
I did not want to continue in limbo any longer than I had to. The following day, I called Selective Service to see if I get a physical as soon as possible. Once they realized I was not a crank, I got a straight answer: No. As it turned out, I would have to wait until autumn before I got to stroll around Fort Hamilton in my underwear.
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