Father & Son
It has been 17 years since my dad passed away at age 84.
He was in so many ways bigger than life…My hero and mentor and his words of wisdom are still my guiding compass today.
Looking back at my life now that I am in my seventies, the regrets and mistakes on my life’s journey resound in the depths of the night. Lying in bed looking out at the ocean from my bedroom window, I often think about the times I didn’t listen to him and foolishly jumped off the cliff of bad judgement into a pool of regret.
He used to tell me so many times…
”I give you this advice because I have been down that path before and don’t want you to step on a landmine”.
His words of wisdom were especially meaningful when I turned eighteen.
It was September of 1971, and I had just registered for the draft.
My lottery number was 95 and although not a particularly low number, I was still on the cusp of easily being drafted.
The Viet Nam war was a divisive time in America, and I remember joining a peace March organized by Whittier College students. The war had already claimed fifty thousand young American lives and there was no clear path ahead as to an end. I was quite torn as to what to do.
Should I enlist? My cousin Art was six years older and had enlisted a few years before. Since childhood he was my big brother and best friend. His pals. Mike, Adrian and Raulie, who I had also respected since grammar school, joined the army in 1968 and saw combat as infantrymen.
Needless to say, the draft was a dilemma that weighed heavily on me. During my first semester in college the anti-war sentiment was strong. I personally felt the war was misguided and pointless, yet, I was torn as to what path to take. My intuition told me to avoid this war at all costs. Yet, my father’s distinguished military service in WWII made me think twice about being a potential draft dodger.
An advantage of enlisting back then was you could select an area of service such as an aviation mechanic, rather than being drafted and another infantry boot on the ground. It seemed to me that by enlisting I perhaps could control a bit of my destiny. If there was such a thing.
In early January of the following year,1972, The Vietnamese launched a major offensive in the Quang Tri province along the DMZ (border between the North and South). In response, Nixon unleashed Operation Linebacker, the unrestricted bombing of all military targets in North Vietnam. It looked like this would be a new phase in the war and an immediate need for more draftees.
What to do?
Early one Saturday morning, sitting on the patio of our home in La Mirada, I was lost in thought. My dad sat down on the lawn chair next to me with two cups of coffee and commented on the beautiful morning. Crisp blue sky and typical early January Southern California weather.
He didn’t say anything as he handed me a cup while he sipped his coffee.
I told him I was worried about the direction of the war and wasn’t sure what to do regarding the draft.
As we sat and drank our coffee, he quietly listened as I explained my inner struggle.
“Should I enlist?”
“Should I wait and get drafted?”
“Should I go to Canada??”
I told him I wanted to do the right thing and not disappoint him.
He sat quietly and listened intently.
“Dad…what should I do?”
He had a distant look in his eyes when he spoke.
“Paul…War is a terrible thing… There are no words to describe the horror you will see and the terror you will feel.
“There is no easy answer to your question.
“When I was your age and confronted with the same question, the only choice for the western world was to fight and defeat Nazi Germany and Japan.
“But this war is much different.”
His eyes were filled with tears as he said,
“I could not bear the thought of losing you.
“But you must follow your heart.
“Whatever you decide, I stand shoulder to shoulder with you.
“But if I were you, I would roll the dice.
“If you get drafted…Serve with honor.
“But I believe this war will end soon.
“Stay in school.”
And so I did.
He was always right.
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