I remember almost becoming a drafted Marine in late 1965.It was the very first Vietnam draft, years before the lottery began. After my entire initial draftee group showed up with one small bag at the Federal Building and were sworn in, we received our very first military order. Sit down and stay motionless. We obediently sat in place in the folding chairs arranged in wide rows.An obviously pissed-off Marine Gunnery Sergeant with two aides holding clipboards started marching behind each row of chairs. One, two, three, YOU! One, two, three, You! keeping a quick step cadence as he rushed through the semi-filled auditorium. They marched militarily up to the front, did a sharp about-turn (I recognized the stuff, having had a few years of college ROTC) and with his face flushed red yelled at the top of his lungs, All identified as YOU! On your feet u2023 MARINES!The stunned u201crecruitsu201d shambled out looking poleaxed. Having experienced months of fraternity initiation hazing by Marine Reserve Officer-Candidates, I almost swooned at my close call. No disrespect intended, at all u2023 but if I had wanted to be a Marine, I would have enlisted thus. Willing to serve did not equate to being consciously masochistic.I later heard about the particularly heinous hell experienced by the unfortunates drafted into the otherwise totally-volunteer corps. Think they may have done it once or twice during WW2, also.Army service overseas was no holiday, but still u2026. there is pain and there is pain!