Nice Day for Flyin'

By Daniel L. Lawrence

In our lives, there are events that occur that change our lives forever, such as being drafted or getting married or having children. Sometimes even killing. Events that cant be changed or taken back.
Nice Day for Flyin is a story of one young boy, Ian McIntyre, who upon being drafted during the later part of the Vietnam War, his first real turning point, is forced to leave a life and future he has known and planned for all his short life. This is a story of lost innocence, betrayal, lost love, and, death. It is also a story of found love and life, friendship, and trust.
This is a story based individual events,in many ways on my experiences and those of others I have served with, while other parts of the story are just plain and simple fabrication. The characters are composites of many people, and the events are based on experiences and war stories of many people but have been changed in some ways.
This is a story of how it might have been, not how it really was or is now. This is not a history lesson; it is a story and nothing more.
The language in this work is, at times, rough as it should be. Real life is not G-rated.
I started this book as a retelling of my own experience in Vietnam and after I returned; but it quickly turned into a long, technical, detail-filled and boring history, which I promptly deleted. Instead I took events and stories as separate entities and worked them into a piece of fiction, a story of how it could have been or perhaps how I would have liked it to have been.
If you want a history lesson, read Stanley Karnows Vietnam:A History.
If you want to laugh, cry, and be entertained, then give Nice Day for Flyin a read.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Sep 23, 2008
• ISBN: 9781462801077

Daniel L. Lawrence

My name is Daniel L. Lawrence. I am a Vietnam War veteran having served in1st Cavalry Divisionwith B Co. 228th Assault Support Helicopter Bn. And with the last American Chinook unit in Vietnam the 362nd Aviation Co. as a Flight Engineer on CH-47 Chinook Helicopters. Upon my return from Vietnam I enlisted in the California Army National Guard as a Combat Engineer with 579th Combat Engineer Bn until 1993 when I was diagnosed with throat cancer from exposure to Agent Orange. I subsequently lost my voice because of it. As a result, in 1996, I became the first and only “on-air” personality in radio without a natural voice. I became “Digital Dan” using a voice synthesizer and laptop computer to speak with. I hosted two live 2hr shows per week, The Digital Music Zone and The Frankly Zappa Show, on KHUM-FM 104.3&104.7. I retired in 2007 and began to write “Nice Day for Flyin’”, my first book.

Book preview

DECEMBER 1968

December 1968, the war in Vietnam was raging. Antiwar protests were gathering momentum all across the country since the Tet Offensive early in 1968 had turned the war very unpopular. The nation was tearing itself apart over the United States’ commitment to stemming communism in Southeast Asia. And then there was what every male between eighteen and twenty-six dreaded the most, the Selective Service Act, the draft.

Hey, Dave! Grab me a Coke, it’s startin’. Hurry up! Ian shouted from the living room.

Ian had the television set turned on and was waiting for the program to start. The draft lottery for this year’s draft was set to take place. Today was the day they drew the new draft numbers for 1969.

Ian McIntyre and Dave Mason were nineteen years old, prime draft age, having graduated from high school the previous June. They both had 1A draft classifications, which meant they were in the first group to be drafted, so this drawing had special meaning to them. This was their first year being eligible for the draft. They had grown up together. Their parents had been lifelong friends before they were ever born. They were like brothers, doing everything together from sports to girl chasing.

Ian was sitting on the couch with his girlfriend, Darlene Fredrickson, playing that touchy feely game teenagers play, laughing and wrestling like animals in heat, which they were.

Megan Hanson was sitting at the end of the couch. She was Dave’s best girl. She and Darlene had been best friends since sixth grade.

Dave returned from the kitchen with Cokes and plopped down with Megan, handing Ian his soda.

Ian popped the top on his Coke as did Dave.

Here’s to high numbers! Dave toasted.

What have I got to worry about? Ian mused. I never win these kinds of things. They all laughed a little uneasily but settled into watching the drawing. Anything over 150 and we’re home free, Ian prayed. I mean, what are the odds outta 365 numbers? he asked rhetorically.

The draft lottery was like a big bingo game except for the lack of the five-by-five grid of numbers on a slip of paper. This bingo game had twelve months and 365 days on it. There was the plastic bubble full of ping-pong balls with numbers 1 through 365 on them. Ian, Dave, and the girls sat and waited as the first little plastic ball, the first number, was drawn.

What are the chances of getting a low number with 365 numbers? Dave quipped.

The first number of the lottery was drawn. The four of them sat there, watching as balls were pulled and the number was set to the date in order, starting with January 1. One after another, the numbers were assigned until finally it was Ian’s turn. The four of them sat breathlessly, waiting for the ball to pop up.

September 14. Number 1, the announcer said as he placed the little ball in the hole next to Ian’s birthday.

Ian sat there for a moment stunned. Holy shit! That’s me! he yelled. Goddamnit, that’s me! This fucking sucks! Ian was yelling. His worst dream had just come true. Number fucking one! I can’t believe this shit! Ian kept yelling.

Will you please stop saying that word, Ian! Darlene hollered over Ian.

What? Oh yeah, sorry, he replied. Darlene really hated that word. Ian went over to turn off the TV.

Wait, Ian, my number ain’t up yet, Dave said.

Oh yeah. Sorry, man, Ian replied. Mine sure as hell is, he grumbled.

They all settled back into the couch to await Dave’s number.

October 12, came the announcer’s voice. Two five nine.

Dave let out a sigh of relief. Megan hugged him. He was so glad he had pulled a high number he forgot that his best friend had pulled the most dreaded winning number in the whole world, 1.

So what does all this mean, you guys? Darlene asked with a quiver of fear in her voice. Deep inside, she knew that this was going to be a turning point in all their lives. What’s gonna happen now?

Well, it looks a lot like I’m gonna get drafted very soon since I don’t have one of those 2S college deferments. I’m 1A, remember? And so is Dave, but he drew a real high number so he has nothing to sweat, Ian grumbled.

What about us? We’re supposed to be getting married, and you have a job at the mill! she cried. This isn’t fair!

No, it isn’t, but there’s not a lot I can do about it, is there? Ian shot back. Come on, let’s go the Room and talk about this. I don’t need Ma coming in right now and hearing all this shit. Ian moaned. My dad’s gonna shit when he hears this! he thought as they walked out to the Room.

The Room, as Ian’s mom called it, was the double garage detached from the house itself. He had insulated it, put up plywood sheets on the walls, and painted it purple and red with blue trim. It was his room away from the house and his little brother, Mark. He was hoping to be moving to his own place soon with Darlene since he had some seniority at the mill in the resaw department. Ian had a good job and good income for a nineteen-year-old just out of high school.

The girls went in first as Dave had pulled Ian back. I wanna to talk to you first without the girls, he said quietly.

Ian waited for Darlene and Megan to enter, closed the door, and leaned up against the wall of the breezeway that connected the Room to the rest of the house across the patio.

Dave spoke quietly, Man, I’m so sorry about your number. I don’t know what to say.

Yeah, me too, Dave, me too. This really sucks, man. What the fuck am I gonna do in the army? Ian moaned. My dad’s gonna shit. You know how he is about this war.

Yeah, I’ve heard it enough times, Dave said as a matter of fact.

Ian’s father, David, was a half-breed Cherokee Indian raised in Oregon. He worked most of his life in the woods as a faller. His mother, Gina, was a white Catholic only child who went to private schools. She really went for the rugged athletic type.

Ian’s dad was a star high school and college football and basketball player. He went to work for Ian’s grandfather on his mother’s side when he started dating Gina.

Ian was named after Dave’s dad, and Dave was named after Ian’s dad.

Ian’s father believed that there were certain things a boy must do in order to become a man. Being a warrior and facing the enemy in a test of fire was the high point. David had close relatives who fought in the Indian wars as did Gina’s, albeit on different sides. Doing your duty when called was also part of the deal from both sides of the family. But David disagreed with the war in Vietnam. He felt this was the wrong war at the wrong time.

Ian and Dave had grown up like brothers. They did everything together—sports, girl chasing, hunting, and fishing. Both played varsity baseball and football. They had plotted and planned how they were going to get these two girls at school to be their girlfriends. The plan worked. Darlene and Megan had been their steady girlfriends for the past two years. They were planning a double wedding for June. Current events were about to change all that.

Well, let’s get in there, man, we got us pair to deal with right now. Dad can wait, Ian said, moving to the door. Dave followed without saying anything.

What are we gonna do, Ian? Darlene was crying. Megan was trying to calm her down but was visibly upset herself.

I don’t know, babe, he said as he sat and took her in his arms. I don’t know. We’ll just have to wait and see what comes next.

What about the wedding and all our plans? she was sobbing. You can’t get drafted! You just can’t! she cried.

We’ll work this out, babe, I promise, he whispered in her ear. She broke down and bawled. Ian just held her in his arms and let her cry. Dave and Megan sat on the other end of the ragged old couch and said nothing.

After a while, Megan spoke in a soft voice, What about Canada?

You know I can’t do that, Megan. You know my dad and how he feels about doing your duty and becoming a man and all that shit, Ian explained slowly.

But your dad hates the war. He’s lectured us enough on it for a long time, she retorted.

Yeah I know, Megan. I hear it every damn day of the week, Ian shot back. But he never said anything about running away from responsibilities.

But—

But nothing. I don’t have any idea what he is gonna do when he hears this. Just have to wait and see, Ian ended the discussion.

The next few hours passed quietly. The four of them talked about the possibilities and what to expect in the short term. Ian was getting drafted. Running away to Canada to avoid the draft was not an option. It wasn’t in his heart to desert his country when called, let alone what it would do to his father. This sounded a little altruistic to most of his friends; the notion of service to country seemed to be alien to most them. Ian was not raised that way. His father had served in Korea with the First Infantry Division and had seen his share of fighting there. His great-grandfather had fought against the cavalry in the Indian wars. From his mother’s side, his grandfather had fought in WWII in the infantry as well. His great-grandfather was a major in the cavalry during the Indian wars.

There was a tradition of service to country in this family. Ian had no real choice in this matter. He was the eldest son. It was his turn to step up and be counted as a man. Regardless of what it was in life, he was expected to step up and do his best.

Ian was instilled with a drive that was relentless, the desire to be the best at whatever he attempted. He hated to lose even if it was to a much-better opponent. Losing just made him try all that much harder.

Ian also had a temper that Dave spent a lot of time keeping subdued. Ian was not one to back down from anyone, which cost him a lot of bumps and bruises for his trouble. Dave was always there to pull him out or cover his back.

Ian sat there, in the Room, with his best friend and the girls they loved. The silence was broken by a light tap at the door.

Ian Lee, it’s your mother, I want to talk to you.

OK, Ma, I’ll be right in. Ian hollered. You guys hang out, I’ll be right back.

You’re in deep shit, my man, Dave said. You know that ‘voice’ she uses when she’s pissed? That’s it. And she called you Ian Lee.

Yep, Ian replied as he rose to leave.

I think we should all take off and let you deal with them. This is some heavy shit, man. But we can handle it, Dave said, a little uneasy about this turn of events.

Yeah, OK. That’s probably a good idea, Ian conceded. I’ll catch you guys later. He kissed Darlene and he left the Room. The other three left through the back door.

OK, Ma, what’s the big deal? Ian called as he entered the back door to the house and stepped into the kitchen.

You know damn well what the big deal is! she cried. When were you going to tell me about this?

Jeez, Ma, I just found out myself, and you were gone! How am I gonna tell ya anything if you aren’t even here? Ian shot back. I pulled number goddamn one! This fucking sucks, Ma!

You stop that language this instant, Ian. I’m your mother, not your pals from school, she shot back.

Yes, ma’am, Ian uttered in shame.

If your father ever heard you talking to me that way, he’d beat you senseless, she warned.

Yes, ma’am, he repeated.

Now tell me what is going on, she replied in the soft voice of a mother worried about her child.

Well, Ma, they had the drawing for the draft numbers for the year today and drew a real winner. I got number 1. So it looks like I’m gonna get drafted here pretty soon since I don’t have a deferment or anything, he explained.

Oh god! No! No! No! No! she kept repeating.

Dad’s gonna go on the warpath, you know that, don’t you! Ian said. He hates this war. I’m so screwed here. This sucks. Ian moaned.

Well, he’s due home in about an hour, honey. Go find your brother and help me set the table, Gina told him in a shaky voice.

OK, Ma.

Goddamit! This just really sucks, Ian thought as he headed out to find Mark, his fourteen-year-old little brother.

Mark looked up to his big brother. Most little brothers lose that by the time they are fourteen, but Mark was his own kid. His big brother was a football player, a wide receiver, and he wanted to be just like Ian.

Hey, goofball! Where the heck are you, you little rug rat?! Ian hollered up the stairs. Get your little butt down here and help me out!

OK! came a reply from the upper floor. I’m coming.

Ian loved his brother even if he was a pain in the ass sometimes. But what little brother isn’t?

Mark hit three of the fourteen steps down from the second floor and leaped at Ian. The two of them wrestled around until Gina came in and put a stop it.

Knock it off you two and set the table. Your father will be home soon, and dinner is almost ready.

Yes, Ma, they both replied and set about setting the dining-room table for dinner.

This is gonna be some dinner tonight, Ian thought.

Just as the boys were finishing setting the table, Ian heard the front door open.

Oh shit, he’s home, Ian lamented.

Ian heard his father’s voice in the hall and then his mother’s. He couldn’t make out clearly what being said. Then he heard the door to their bedroom close. The house was silent. Ian and Mark just stood there waiting.

It started as voices rising in the back of the house. Ian’s father getting more and more worked up until finally, it was silent. Then they heard the bedroom door open.

Well, little bro, here it comes, Ian said in a hushed tone. World War III.

Ian’s father entered the dining room and sat at his usual place at the end of the table. Ian’s place was to his right and Mark to the left. Gina was at the other end. If you were not at the table at dinner time, Dad turned over your plate, and you went without.

When David sat, Ian and Mark headed to the kitchen to help, anything to get out of the dining room. But that was not to happen.

David pointed at Ian. You sit. Then to Mark, he instructed, You go help your mother. He never had to repeat himself. Ian sat. Mark took off like greased lightning.

After a few moments that seemed like hours, David spoke, I understand you have something to tell me, Ian. There was an edge to his voice that tried to subdue a rage.

Yes, sir. You know that today was the drawing for the draft numbers. It seems I have drawn number 1, Ian stammered.

"What do you mean seems? Either you did or you didn’t," his father demanded.

I did, Ian replied.

What do you plan to do then?

Wait for the mailman, I guess, Ian replied sarcastically.

Don’t be a smart-ass. You don’t wear it well, young man. Now I ask you a question. I expect an answer, David insisted.

Yes, sir, he mumbled. Well, since I’m 1A and don’t have a deferment, it’s pretty likely that I’ll get drafted real soon. You remember last year they called number 1 within thirty days of the drawing. And I drew number 1, Dad, Ian explained in a pained voice.

Yes, I know, your mother told me, he said. But you know how I feel about this war. It’s wrong. How many times have I told you that?

I know, Dad, but what am I supposed to do here? Run away to Canada like one those hippie fucks you keep rantin’ about? Ian voice was starting to rise.

Watch that mouth, boy. I don’t need your mother hearing you talk like that! he warned.

Well, guess what, Dad! I’m old enough to get drafted, so I’m damn well old enough to swear! Ian hollered as he pushed his chair back and stood. And it’s not like Ma never heard it before coming out of your mouth! Ian replied angrily.

David rose slowly towering over Ian. He could see the rage in his father’s eyes. Oh shit, here it comes! Ian shivered. But he stood his ground, ready to take whatever was coming for this outburst. This was the first time Ian had ever spoken to his father in this manner.

Boy, I’ll give you one thing, you got balls bigger than your brain sometimes. There was a hint of pride in his voice. Now sit down. We have a lot of talking to do later, after dinner, David told him. HEY, MA! Where’s dinner?

Gina and Mark came in with the bowls and plates of food. Ian got up and helped. He was glad to get away from the table even for a minute. He knew he had stepped over the line with his dad. But he stood his ground, right or wrong. The line had just been moved.

The rest of the evening passed with no more outbursts by either Ian or his dad. They both had tempers, and Gina kept them apart as much as possible until they both settled down a bit. They watched the news on TV and the usual nightly programming. Around ten, Ian said he was heading to the Room.

We’ll talk in the morning, Ian, his father said.

OK, Dad. Night, Ma.

Sleep came slowly to Ian that night. He had a lot on his mind. His whole world had just come crashing down, and he had no idea what to do. Not that he could do anything anyway. But sleep did finally come.

The next several weeks were agonizing. He and his father engaged in several arguments over the war that was raging in Vietnam, which was driving them farther apart. The antiwar protests were getting larger and more violent. Ian was struggling with his sense of duty to his country as well as to his father.

On the one hand, his father expected him to do his duty when called while at the same time did not want him to go to Vietnam. Just what was he supposed to do?

Running to Canada to avoid the draft was not an option for Ian, unlike his friend Johnny who took off like a scared rabbit when he got his draft notice. He and Ian had a huge argument over Johnny’s decision to leave the country. In the end, Ian had to respect Johnny’s choice. After all, it was his life.

You leave this country for Canada and you can never come back, you know. If you do, they’ll throw your ass in prison and toss the key, he told Johnny.

I know, man, but I can’t go fight in this war, it’s just not right, Johnny tried to explain.

Is it that, or are you just a chicken shit? Ian asked point-blank.

Both I guess, Johnny replied with a little shame in his voice. Both.

Well, do what ya gotta do, John. It’s your decision, man. This is gonna kill your folks, you know. I hope you know what you’re doing, Ian said, disappointed.

Johnny had left for Canada six weeks ago. Ian knew it was not a political decision on Johnny’s part. He knew Johnny was just saving his own skin. He also knew it took a lot of guts to make that decision.

CHANGE OF PLAN

The double-wedding plans were put on hold for the time being. There was just too much uncertainty at the moment to be making any decisions. The future was too unclear for them right then.

Darlene was not happy about the recent turn of events. Dave and Megan were trying to stay out of it. After all, Dave had pulled a very high number and was in no danger of being drafted. But discussion of the wedding was off the table, and they had decided to not talk about it.

The four of them tried to carry on as if nothing had happened. And so far, nothing had happened except for the lottery and Ian’s fights with his father. That was about to change however.

It was cold and wet that Saturday morning in early February. Ian, Dave, and the girls were sitting in the kitchen at Ian’s place. His mom was making them breakfast as she liked to do. Ian’s dad was at work at the mill, putting in an extra shift on a Saturday. Before leaving, David told him they would have another in a series of their talks when he got home.

Everyone was laughing and having a good time. They were planning on going to Berry Summit for some fun in the snow when they heard the dog barking and running around. That was the signal that the mail had just come through the slot in the door, this time accompanied by a knock on the door.

I’ll get it, Ian said and got up from the table and walked down the hallway to the front door. The dog was barking at the slot, waiting for the mail to be pushed through, and Ian saw the mailman standing at the door through the glass.

Shut up, Hans! Jesus, dog, it’s only the freakin’ mail! Ian hollered as he opened the door.

Ian L. McIntyre? the mailman asked.

Yes, Ian replied.

Sign here. He was instructed.

As he returned to the kitchen, he looked through the mail. Bills, junk, flyers, and one addressed to him that he had to sign for.

What’s in the mail, son? his mom asked.

The usual stuff, Ma, he replied as he returned, dropping the mail on the sideboard in the hall, except for one envelope which he kept.

As he sat at the table with the others, he fingered the envelope, turning it over and over nervously.

What’s that, man? Dave asked.

Ian was silent, not wanting to answer right away. His mother had come over when she heard Dave ask.

What is it, son? she asked.

It’s from the Selective Service System, Ma, he replied.

Oh my god! she cried as she sat down.

Ian just stared at the envelope. He knew what it was.

This is it.

It seemed like an eternity before the silence broke.

Well, are you going to open it or not? Dave chided.

Hold yer horses, man! Ian shot back as he took out his Buck knife, clicked it open with a flick of the wrist, and slit the envelope open.

Ian’s heart was pounding in his chest. He couldn’t breathe as he extracted the letter and slowly unfolded it.

From the president of the United States. To Ian Lee McIntyre. Greetings, you are hereby ordered for induction into the armed forces of the United States… , he read aloud. His heart pounded in his chest like a bass drum as he read the rest of the letter. His mother sobbed and ran from the kitchen.

I have to call your father, she said as she wept.

I’m so fucked, Ian mumbled as he stared at his draft notice.

How long until you have to go, man? Dave asked.

It says here I have to report for my preinduction physical thirty days from yesterday.

Darlene broke down and cried. Megan tried to console her, but it was useless. They both bawled.

Ian just sat there, staring at the letter. All was quiet except for the crying of the girls. Dave sat there, not knowing what to say. What could he say?

After a few minutes, Ian stood up and left the table. He had to be alone to allow this to sink in.

What the fuck am I going to do? he asked, more to himself than to anyone else. Dave waited a few minutes to try and get the girls settled down; then he went over to Ian.

So what now? he asked.

I don’t know, Dave, I just don’t know, Ian whispered. Let’s get the hell out of here. Get the girls, and let’s just go somewhere, anywhere.

Dave returned to the girls and gathered them up while Ian went to talk to his mother.

Ma, we’re gonna split for a while. Are you gonna be all right?

Oh, Ian. This is my worst nightmare, she cried. How can they do this to me? You’re my baby, my firstborn. How can this be happening? she wailed.

I’m sorry, Ma, Ian said as he held his mother. Everything’s gonna be all right, I promise.

No, everything is not going to be all right, Ian. You could get killed, and I just can’t take the thought of that, his mother cried.

I’m not gonna let that happen, Ma, I swear to God, he whispered to her as he held her as she cried. I’m not gonna let that happen. He held her close; she wept.

Go on, honey, she finally said. Go be with your friends. Go be with Darlene. She needs you now. Your father will be home soon, and you should be here when he gets home. You know how he is.

OK, Ma. You gonna be all right? Ian asked.

Yes, honey, she said. Ian knew better but he left anyway.

Dave had taken the girls out to the Room. Darlene was still crying a little when he entered.

This really sucks, man, Dave said.

No shit, Ian said as he sat down, still holding the draft notice. No fucking shit.

So what now? Dave asked.

I say we get the hell outta here and do something. Anything but sit here, Ian said.

Cool. Come on, ladies, let’s blow this popsicle stand! Dave called out trying to put a little levity into what was a bad situation.

ROCK AND A HARD PLACE

For the next week, it seemed all Ian and his father did was fight over the war and what was expected of him. It was the same argument over and over. His father wanted him to do his duty but not go to Vietnam.

What the hell am I supposed to do here? You tell me I have to do this, but you tell me that you don’t want me to go to Vietnam. What the hell am I supposed to do? Ian yelled at his father. I can’t do both. I’m fucking drafted! I don’t have a choice in this! I’m going in the damn army, and if they send me to Vietnam, then so be it! Whether you like it or not, that’s the way it is! Ian argued.

I know, son, I know. I just don’t want you coming back home in a damn box! his father stressed. This war is wrong. We have no business being there. I just don’t want you getting killed for this bullshit.

Dad, I’m not gonna let that happen if there is anything I can do about it, Ian tried to explain.

That is not for you to say, son. Men die in war. I saw it in Korea. I see it every day on the news. And I sure as hell don’t want to see your name on the news as killed in action.

I know, Dad. But I have to do this. You know it as well as I do, Ian said. Look, you and Grampa both made it through, so will I, Ian reminded his father.

Yes, that’s all well and good, but I don’t want you going to that shit hole! David said angrily.

It’s not my decision, Dad. When are you going to get that through your thick skull? Ian hollered.

Don’t talk to me in that tone, young man, or I will kick that smart little ass of yours from here to next Sunday! David hollered.

Ya know what, I’m tired of your double-standard bullshit, old man, so take your best shot, and let’s get it on! Ian yelled, knowing full well he stood no chance of coming out of it unscathed. Both were on their feet.

His father slammed his fists on the table. He towered over Ian by a good four inches and with rage in his eyes. Ian had never called out his father like that ever.

It was all David could do to control himself. Ian waited for the first blow. It never came. David just stared at Ian and seethed with rage that his son had challenged him in this fashion when Gina came into the kitchen and broke it up.

All right, you two, that’s enough of this! Ian, get the hell out of here. Dave, you just settle down. I won’t have you two fighting. Not in my house. That is your son, not some logger out in the woods you can bully. Now sit down and shut up! she cried.

Ian had never heard his mother talk to his father that way. He was shocked, but he followed her instructions and left. He wanted no part of a fistfight with his father. As he left, he heard his mother lay into his father, Now you listen to me, David Lee McIntyre…

He wanted no part of this.

THE BUDDY SYSTEM

Ian was sitting in his room when Dave burst in.

Hey, man, I got some news for you! he hollered.

Yeah, what’s that? Ian asked.

Check this out. I went down to see the army guy, you know, the recruiter.

Yeah, so? Ian said.

He told me they have this buddy system, Dave said.

A what? Ian asked.

Buddy system. If we both enlist, we can be together! Dave started explaining.

What the hell are you talking about, Dave? Ian asked.

Look, if you get drafted, you’ll most likely end up in the infantry. That’s where they send draftees. And that ain’t a good thing, man, Dave explained.

Yeah, so what’s your point?

If you enlist for three years instead, they let you pick your job and a school, man, Dave explained. And if I enlist with you, we get to train together. You don’t have to go alone. We can go together. Maybe even get stationed in the same place! Dave was excited.

Are you outta your mind, Dave? That has to be the dumbest thing you’ve come up with yet. Why the hell would you do that? You drew 259, asshole. A free ticket out!

Come on, man, just come down and talk to the guy. Let him explain it. You’ll see, Dave prodded.

Are you on drugs or something? What about Megan, the wedding, your folks? They’re gonna shit if you do this, man, Ian chided.

Look, you dummy, I have been hauling your ass outta the fire since we were kids. Why should I stop now? Besides, someone has to keep you from getting your ass shot off, Dave said as he punched Ian in the arm. Just come down and let the guy explain it to you. You’ll see it’s the thing to do, Dave pleaded.

OK, Dave. But it’s still the stupidest thing I ever heard of.

OK, gentlemen, here is how it works. You enlist for three years active duty. You choose what MOS, that’s military occupational specialty, you want, and we send you through training together. When you finish your training, the army will decide where they need you. I can’t guarantee that you’ll be stationed together, but there is a good chance since you’ll both have the same MOS. And trust me, enlistees are treated much better than draftees in this man’s army.

Ian pondered this offer for a few moments.

So let me get this straight. Instead of two years as a draftee, I have to do three years as an enlistee?

Would you rather be a grunt pounding across rice paddies with a rifle, or get a good school and training you can use after you’re done? the recruiter asked.

And this buddy-system thing, we train together but no guarantee after, that right?

That’s right. After you are trained, then the army decides where they need you.

I gotta think about this, Ian said after a pause.

Don’t take too long, son. From what your friend here says, you already got your notice to report, the recruiter said.

Ian and Dave stood up, shook hands with the sergeant, and left.

Back in the Room, Dave explained his plan to the girls. Megan went ballistic.

You can’t be serious! she screamed. Are you out of your mind, Dave?

Look, Meg, Ian is my best friend. How can I let him do this alone? Dave tried to explain.

You can’t do this to me! There’s no way that you will get drafted, and you come up with this? Are you out of your mind? Megan demanded.

That’s what I tried to tell him too, Meg, Ian said. The guy’s lost his fuckin’ mind.

You can’t do this, Dave, Darlene told him. It’s bad enough Ian was drafted, but there is no reason for you to go too.

Look you two, you know how Ian is. If I’m not there to pull his ass out of some mess he’s gotten into, who will? How many times has that dumbass gotten into some shit because of his temper or his big mouth? And who was there to haul him out? Me. If I don’t do this then who will? Dave told them.

But, Dave— Megan started in.

But nothin’ Meg. This is my decision. It’s up to Ian now. Either we enlist together or he gets drafted and goes in the infantry and to Vietnam for sure, Dave told her.

But can’t he just enlist himself? Why do you need to go too? Darlene asked, trying to calm things down.

Because he is my best friend. I can’t let him go off half-cocked and get himself killed, Dave shot back.

This isn’t fair, Dave. How can you do this to me? she fired back with anger in her voice.

This is some stupid shit, Dave, but if that’s what you think you need to do, then let’s do it, Ian conceded.

You shut up, Ian! This doesn’t concern you! Megan yelled.

The hell it doesn’t. He’s MY best friend, remember? I’ve known him all my life, which is a damn sight longer than you! So don’t hand me that shit! Ian shot back in defense. I have a hell of a lot more at stake in this than any of you do. Fuck! Ian stated flat out.

Ian, please— Darlene started.

You stay out of this. We’ve talked about this already. I have to go, but Dave doesn’t. This is the most fucked-up thing I have ever heard of. This is between those two, not us. Either way, I’m enlisting to get a school so I won’t be a grunt. That’s my choice. If Dave wants to tag along, that’s his choice. Even if I think it’s damn stupid, it’s still his choice. Not mine!

How can you let him do this, you son of a bitch! Megan hollered at Ian.

I tried to talk him out of this, Megan. As far as I’m concerned, he’s lost his fuckin’ mind, so get off my back! Ian shot back. This is not my fault! Between you guys and my dad, I don’t know whether to shit or go blind! So just back off, will ya? Ian demanded.

OK, if you two want to run off and get yourselves killed, that’s fine with me! You’re such an asshole sometimes, Ian. And this is all your fault! Megan screamed.

Get her out of here, Darlene, Ian told her. Let me try and straighten this out.

OK, babe, she said. Come on, Meg, let’s go. Let these two work it out.

You’re a son of a bitch, Ian. I hate you for this! Megan said through clenched jaws. I hate you!

After the girls had left, Ian spoke. See what you’ve done now, Dave? You can’t do this. Just let me go do this shit and get it over with. There is no reason for you to do this.

I’ve made up my mind, Ian. I’m doing this if I have to kick your ass as well, Dave replied flatly.

Well, bring a lunch and a few friends, man, you’ll need em! Ian tried to joke.

Not funny! Dave replied. Let’s get outta here and go do something. Let the girls cool down for a while. We’ll hook up with them later.

OK, gentlemen we have a few tests for you to take before you decide what type of training you want, the recruiter told them. We need to see what your abilities and aptitudes are. So if you’re ready, we can begin.

Sounds good to me, Ian said. Let’s do it.

There was no talking Dave out of this buddy-system thing, so Ian gave in to the idea. Besides, it was better than going it alone, he figured. Darlene had come to terms with the fact that Ian was going into the army one way or another. Megan on the other hand was still mad as hell’s fury at both of them, Dave for enlisting and Ian for letting him. They settled into the tests, which Ian finished first.

OK, gentlemen that does it. Come back tomorrow and we will see how you scored. Then we can discuss your options and decide what you want to do, the recruiter told them.

They shook hands and left the office.

So what do you think? Dave asked as they left.

Don’t know, Dave. Just have to wait and see. I guess but those were some pretty easy tests, if you ask me, Ian replied.

No shit. Dave laughed. Guess you don’t need to be too smart to get in the army these days.

That night, Ian had another in a long string of fights with his father. They were growing farther apart with each argument as the days passed. His mother was being torn apart by their behavior. She couldn’t stand to see them fight that way, neither of them giving an inch.

David, she said, that is your son, our eldest child, how can you be so damned stubborn? You’ve put him in an impossible position with this crap of yours. How can you do this to him, to me? she scolded him. You know damn well this is not his fault. Why can’t you give the boy a little support in this? He deserves that from his father.

Gina, this war is wrong. I don’t want to lose my son in this. This is not WWII or Korea, David shot back. You know how I feel about this.

So it’s better to drive him away then? Is that your answer, you selfish son of a bitch? Make it impossible for him? You’re just like your father, you know, she cried.

Just what’s that supposed to mean? he asked.

You are both as stubborn as mules, and Ian is just like you two as well, she shot at him. Pigheaded, stubborn sons of bitches all of you. Our son has been drafted, and all you can do is keep riding his ass about what you want. Well, let me tell you this, David, you are driving our baby away with this crap of yours, and I won’t have it. There is nothing either of you can do about this, and you know it. So the sooner you come to terms with this, the better it will be for all of us. And what about Mark? Do you think that this has no effect on him? My god, David, we might lose our son in this war. Do you want the last thing you do with him to be fighting over something he had no control over? Gina begged her husband.

There was nothing David could say. He just sat there, fuming.

Good morning, gentlemen. Have a seat, the recruiter greeted them. Let’s have a look at your test scores. The recruiter took out the test papers and the score sheets. Ian and Dave sat quietly waiting while he went over them. Looks like you two paid attention in school, he finally said. These are some very high scores. I haven’t seen numbers like these in a while.

So what does that mean? Dave asked.

It means you two can pretty much choose any school you want, the recruiter told him.

Cool, Ian said. What’s next?

Here is a list of army MOS schools. Look it over, ask any questions, and we can get down to business, the recruiter told them.

We went to see the air force guy the other day, Ian said. I asked him about flight school, and he told me I had to have college to get in.

That’s right, son. But you can get into helicopter school in the army. Learn to repair them and possibly get on a flight crew without college.

Ian pondered that option for a while. What do you think, Dave?

I don’t know, Ian. Helicopters get shot down a lot over there, Dave replied with concern.

The army has many different types of helicopters, son, the recruiter told them. Not all of them are like the Hueys you see on the TV. We have big cargo transports as well. And being a mechanic means you’ll be in a rear area.

OK, let me think about this for a minute, Ian said. OK, tell me about them, he said after a few minutes.

The recruiter showed them some pictures of a large helicopter with two rotor heads on it. It’s a CH-47 medium cargo helicopter. These big birds transport everything the army needs to wherever it’s needed. They usually make sure it’s fairly safe to take them in, he explained.

These look pretty good to me, Dave, Ian said, looking at the photos. Let’s do it.

OK, what do we do now? Dave asked.

The recruiter explained to them that they had papers to sign, a physical to take, and a background check; and if all went well, they could enlist in the army and become CH-47 helicopter repairmen, MOS 67U, after basic training, that is.

Ian and Dave finished their business at the recruiter’s office and left.

Let’s go find the girls and tell them, Dave said.

"Are you sure you’re ready for that,