Episode One

Destination Vietnam

January 22, 1971, after the completion of advanced infantry training, I made the best of a 30-day leave. With an MOS (Military Occupation School) of 11B20 (Light Weapons Infantry) my military orders were to report to Oakland Army Base Deportation Center for overseas processing.

Being a sole surviving son, I remained confident I wouldn't be sent to the front line. Besides, the recently inaugurated 37th President of the United States was going to put an end to the war politician's conveniently labeled "conflict."

Accompanied by my parents, Dad placed the gear shift of his 1963 Dodge Dart in reverse and pulled out of the driveway. The neighbor was seated in his favorite chair enjoying an early morning cup of coffee before heading for his ranch. He waved as we pulled out the driveway. Like one of his own, he was troubled about me going to Vietnam.

The home on Wilkins and Liggett brought back painful memories of the death of a popular neighborhood boy killed in Vietnam during the 1968 Tet Offensive.

All Along the Watch Tower played on the radio as Dad turned onto Union Avenue. Ignoring Mom's nurturing words, I clutched the dollar bill my grandmother gave me for good luck.

* * *

My predicament could have been avoided entirely if I had remained in college. The decision to leave the community college would eventually be the decision that sent me to Vietnam. Due to poor choices and lack of effort, I struggled through the previous semester, falling below a 2.0 grade point average.

A recent promotion from salad chef to evening cook at a local restaurant allowed me to consider time off from school. After discussing my options with the deferment officer, she agreed I would be able to retain my deferment as long as I returned in the fall.

Besides employment, time off from school gave me an opportunity to entertain a life of drinking and drugs. Gambling the war would end before the fun ran out, I didn't take the draft seriously. Unfortunately, I lost. Within two weeks the official selective service envelope arrived at my door — I had been drafted.

Rushing back to the campus, I headed for the deferment office to investigate.

"Can I help you?" asked an elderly woman standing at the counter.

"Can I speak with the Miss White?" I asked.

"I'm the new deferment officer," answered the unfamiliar face. "Where's Miss White?" I asked.

"She took a position at Junior college up north. Can I help you?"

"I received a draft notice and according to Miss White my deferment was placed on hold until next fall."

"What's your name?"

"Garcia."

"Let me pull your file."

The newly appointed deferment officer returned, shuffling through the paperwork in my file.

"Why didn't you return to school, Mr. Garcia?"

"I made arrangements to take a semester off," I replied truthfully.

"There's nothing in your file that indicates that, so when you didn't return to school, I dropped your deferment. Sorry, there's nothing I can do for you now," said the deferment officer sympathetically.

"There has to be something you can do. I don't want to go to Vietnam!" I pleaded.

"I will only reinstate your deferment if you enroll in a minimum of ten and a half units. Until then, there is nothing I can do."

I spent the entire day pleading with instructors to allow me to enroll in their class. The majority of instructors claimed I had missed too many da