My Private War

My Private War                                           Richard Nichols 2.22.11

In 1960, the year I graduated from high school, the prosperous, cold war years of the 50's closed. The turbulence of the 60’s, the growing youth rebellion, drug revolution, the Vietnam War and protest, assassination of the Kennedy brothers, ML King and Malcolm X, seemed impossible, a stark contrast to the conservative 50’s.  But within a few years the United States was in a war in Vietnam, the draft was in place, and I was the ripe, right age to get drafted. I enrolled in Cerritos Junior College, found part time work at Helms Bakery, was introduce to pot, LSD, jazz, and a more bohemian life.

College, getting stoned, and working at the bakery are other stories. This is the story of my own private war.

In the 60's a powerful motivation for staying in college was military draft deferment. I was not training for a job, because I had no idea at all what I might do for a living. My strongest motivation was fear, fear of the military, fear of going to war, fear of being at the mercy of people I didn't know and would probably dislike. You would be told what to think, when to eat, sleep and go to the bathroom, how to march, how to salute and how to shine shoes and weapons. The idea of it all terrified me. So I stayed in college and kept those deferments coming. Moving around to several colleges, failing, dropping out, coming back, working, drinking, getting stoned, girlfriends, kept me occupied for the years between 1960 and 1965. While the youth rebellion, sit ins, and war protests grew in strength, I was lying low, trying to stay out of the war.

In January 1966 I received a draft notice, and most importantly, a deferment until the end of the school semester. This began my own private war against the draft, and against the machinery designed to grind you down and make you miserable.  This small war lasted two years. My question was, "How do I get out of this?” Fortunately the draft resistors group, the Central Committee for Conscientious Objectors (CCCO), was helping young men with the draft. After some serious thought, and a heightened sense that I was about to become cannon fodder, I took the dive into the deep end and asked to be sent the "Handbook for CO’s". In the meantime the draft machinery was rolling. I received notice to report for a pre-induction physical in a downtown Los Angeles location.

In the lineup of young men herded like cattle, one young guy had a tremendous sore on his private parts. The response from the doctor, if that was what he was, was to get the hell out of there. I was standing in a line, now dressed, waiting for some other examination, maybe teeth, ears, or eyes, when I noticed a young man sitting at a desk in an office with the word  "psychiatry" over the door, with an old guy behind the desk. I caught the drift of the conversation - the draftee was faking homosexuality, and the Army would fix that.

If anything, the miserable experience of lining up with several hundred young men, stark naked in a cold warehouse like structure, and being probed, poked, bent over, and snarled at, and given a "1-A" classification (fit for induction), strengthened my resolve, albeit the resolve was modified somewhat by fear.

In the spring of 1966, my friend Michael and I decided to consider moving to Canada, to avoid the draft, but after a visit to Vancouver, we decided to stay home as U.S. citizens. But that is a story in itself.

By June of 1966 I'd read the CCO Handbook, and filled out the forms to file as a conscientious objector. The questions on the form included "nature of belief", "source of beliefs", 'use of force", actions and behavior", and other questions. I answered the questions in a personal way, not attempting to connect myself to a group such as the pacifist Quakers, but simply depended on philosophy to make my case, such as "I desire as a responsible human being to not cause suffering but to pursue unity with my fellow man".

The bureaucratic process rolled on. The local draft board turned down my request for reclassification in late 1966. I immediately requested a hearing with the board. I appeared before the Board well dressed and well mannered, but was greeted by a panel of snarling old men. The message was, "You are going in the Army and they will straighten you out”. One of them pointed out that I had mud on my shoes and the army would teach me how to keep them clean. I was so flummoxed, so utterly without words, that I did not point out that the mud was from the draft board parking lot!

I still had one more move. I appealed the decision to the State Appeals Board. This started a year long process of a Justice Department  (FBI) investigation into my background. A hearing was scheduled before a hearing officer, and two reports were filed. The first, in 1967, was a report on interviews the FBI conducted with my friends, neighbors and co-workers. Much of the report was taken up with my appearance, "long hair, dresses strangely", lacking church attendance, my moving around to different colleges and my grades. Most people said I was of good character. The report concluded, after citing various court cases, that the timing of my application demonstrated an attempt to get out of serving.

I also spoke with a hearing officer at the Federal Building in April of 1968. He was fair with me in the informal hearing. The interview was more like a friendly chat. He concluded that I was sincere in my beliefs, but that they did not fit the criteria. I was refused CO status. The final report was filed with the local Draft Board March 18, 1968, four days before my 26th birthday. I turned 26 without hearing anything further, and I was free. The cut off age for draftees was 26.

And yes, I did file for CO status to get out of the military. The legal process saved my ass, and nothing else, and I’ve been grateful ever since.