The Lottery

For the first time since World War II the government held a lottery drawing at the Selective Service National Headquarters in Washington, D.C. It determined the order of call for induction during the calendar year 1970. It was for all registrants born between January 1, 1944, and December 31, 1950. This was a change from the pattern of drafting the oldest man first, which had previously been the practice.

They put 366 capsules, each containing a date of the year, into a large glass container. Then on national television and radio they drew out one capsule at a time, opened it and read the date. You would think that on that evening, December 1, 1969, that I would be standing by the radio or TV anxiously awaiting the results but I wasn’t. I was in the library at Iowa Wesleyan studying for a test.

A friend of mine, Calvin Crane, a fellow student at Iowa Wesleyan, was in the work-study program at the college. He was an AV technician. When a professor needed an overhead, a projector or whatever they went to Calvin. He had a desk and storage area in the lower level of the library. I often saw him rolling around equipment on a cart.

That night, December 1, I was in the lower level of the library studying for a test. Calvin came by pushing his cart and informed me that he would be listening to the drawing and I could come and listen to it, too. I told him I wasn’t that interested but that I might at least check in with him later. Somehow just sitting around waiting for them to draw 366 capsules and read the date didn’t sound too exciting. I was only interested in one date, September 13th. What number would it be? He said if he heard it he would let me know.

Shortly after the drawing started Calvin came down the hall and said, “You’re first! September 14th is first.” I said “September 14th?” And Calvin said, “Yes, September 14th is first!” I said, “I’m September 13th.” Calvin laughed and said, “You are lucky!” and went back to listening.

Later that evening Calvin came by again and said “One seventy-five, You’re lucky! They probably won’t ever get to you.” I asked him what he meant by that and told me the Selective Service would reorder their files to the order birth dates were drawn and that Henry County would meet it’s quota long before they got to one seventy-five. He was right.

If you weren’t selected that first year then you dropped into a second category when the new eighteen olds were added to the mix. Each year after that it was less and less likely that they would ever get to you.

I saw many friends leave and go into the service. Some of them never came back. Most of those who did were somehow different when they returned. Some of them described the horror of war and while others said nothing. It was a difficult time! I thought we would never let it happen again.