Since I had departed the Peace Corps, my occupational deferment from the SS (Selective Service) had ended, and I waited for the next shoe to drop. Without any other deferment, I figured that my application to be a C.O. (Conscientious Objector) would kick in. However, the next letter I got from the Draft Board was an unpleasant surprise.
The SS had two different types of CO classifications. One was the “1-A-O” given to those who were willing to serve in the military, but just not kill people. They were non-combatants, and they were usually given jobs in the military as medics. The other CO classification was “1-O”, it was for those who had a moral opposition to participating in any part of the military. The 1-O recipients were required to do 2 years of service to the country as a civilians.
In my original forms sent in when I was 16, I had stated that I was a 1-O, non-military conscientious objector. The letter I had received from my draft board was typical of how they worked. They classified me as a 1-A-O objector, meaning I was to be drafted into the military. I wasn't going to let that nonsense happen. I fired off an appeal to the the classification board and again settled back and waited.
The result of my appeal was that I was summoned to appear before my local Draft Board.
I found myself walking through a dark hallway in the old limestone courthouse building in Evansville, Indiana. Since childhood, every time we had rounded the city’s downtown square, I had peered up at the massive ornate stone Courthouse, with its tall columns, arched windows, and slender domed roof which featured a clock, but this was the first time I had ever been inside of the old building.
I glanced at each office door as I passed, my lone footsteps echoing through the tunnel-like hallway. Finally I saw the wooden door with its frosted glass window upon which was emblazoned in distinctive gold letters; Selective Service System—the office I was looking for.
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