by Rick Scobey

Created on: September 04, 2008

Back in the days of the draft when you did not have the draft lottery, we had to serve in the U.S Army if we were certified as fit for military duty. We had no choice. I received my letter of notification instructing me to the local draft board for examination and induction into the Army. I new I was going to be drafted. I decided to join the Marines since I did not want to serve in the Army. When I told my mother that I was going to be drafted, told me that she was expecting it. I will always remember her words in Spanish,

"I new you would be called to serve my son. Go and do your duty to your country if it is required of you do so. And God bless you and protect you." I could see that she was san and worried. This was back in 1966 when I was still in high school during the Viet Nam War.
At time about five of my friends who had been drafted had already been killed in that war.

The only way to avoid being drafted during those days was to claim an exemption. You had to be attending college or married with family. I wasn't married and my grades for the worst ever: I was not material for college. Bottom line I signed up with the Marines for three years when I could have only been forced to serve two in the U.S. Army. But that is neither here nor there. My military occupation was the infantry, where you separate the men from the boys. The point is that I wound up fighting the Viet Cong and the North Vietnamese well trained and courageous soldiers in the jungles of Viet Nam during the of 1967.

You may wonder if I saw action. Indeed I did. I got to see a lot of my felloe marines get kill before my eyes during mortar attacks and fire fights. I was slightly wounded in during the battle for the hills north of Ke San. I got to destroy villages with the M-70 grenade launcher. I saw the death and destruction we left behind. I was in search and destroy operations. And yes, I got to kill more then two North Vietnamese young soldiers in a face to face firefight. Ask me if I still feel bad about the horrors of war, the answer is yes. I still see in my mind the faces of those young soldiers I shot, and I can still feel the emotional pain I felt then, and I still break down and cry when I am by myself. And that was over forty years ago! Yes! That is the horror of war!

When I returned "back to the world," I attended college and struggled to get readjusted back to the peaceful life. I finally graduated from college with a bachelor of science in criminal justice, law enforcement and

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