135

Number 135.  That was my draft number. I didn't ask for it, I didn't want it.  No matter. The Vietnam "war" was on, idiots were in charge, and you were their chosen victims, one number at a time.

In WW II you couldn't stop kids from enlisting.  Heck, my wife's father lied about his age to enlist.  My own father raced through a 3-year college program to enlist.

The Vietnam war - started by Kennedy's stunning combination of incompetence and arrogance and tossed over the wall to Johnson - needed to forcibly recruit kids who had absolutely no desire to go fight some war in a weird country that was absolutely no threat to us. I've read Johnson's biography, and this whole thing plagued him for the rest of his life.

It was American military idiocy at it's finest.  We each had a draft number, based on our birthday.  "Oh, rats, all the 31s just got killed - bring in the 32s," etc., etc.

The guy running the war - Westmoreland - personally killed some 50,000 US kids. The "enemy" may have fired the shots, but this remarkable idiot set the kids up. The war was dumb, he was dumb, but the military had it's pride to keep up.

Well done.