◆ SpookStack

THE DRAFT The Luck of the Draw Michael Hurd, a 19-year-old soph- omore at Wesleyan University in Con- necticut, sprang to his feet and hurled his chair through the screen of the tele- vision set at the Beta Theta Pi frater- nity house. His birthday—Sept. 14—had come up No, | in the national draft lot- tery. Harvard Senior Nat Spiller, too nervous to watch the drawing on TV, was playing pingpong in an attempt to calm himself. Returning to his room when the selection was well under way, he looked at a list his roommates had been keeping and slumped into a chair. His birthday had come up fourth. Across the country in California, Stanford Uni- versity Sophomore Tyler Comann stared MAULDIN--CHICAGO SUN-TIMES “American Roulette” at his roommate, Charles Thulin, in dis- belief. Against all the odds, his birth- day had come up first, Thulin’s 366th and fast. With variations, the drama was played in college dormitories and homes throughout the U.S. last week as, one by one, members of the Selective Ser- vice Systtm’s Youth Advisory Com- mittee walked to the giant fishbowl and drew out small plastic capsules con- taining 366 dates. That drawing was fol- lowed by a second in which the 26 letters of the alphabet were picked to de- termine by the initial Jetter of their last hames the order in which young men born on the dates already drawn would be drafted. If U.S. military manpower needs remain unchanged, the armed forces will have to draft about 250.000 men next year, Those whose birth dates were among the first third drawn are vir- tually certain to be called. Those in the middle third have a fifty-fifty chance of receiving induction greetings. Barring a national emergency, those in the last 26 third are home free, though some local draft boards warn that they cannot guar- antee even that, so low are their man- power pools. Search for Alternatives. Like any good drawing, the draft lottery was no respecter of persons or odds. President Nixon's son-in-law, David Eisenhower, whose birthday came up 30th, is al- most certain to be drafted. Harvard Se- nior Joseph Blatt learned on the same day that he was one of 24 members of his class chosen for membership in the Phi Beta Kappa honor society and tenth in the lottery. He is almost sure to be called, as is Seth Grossman, chairman of the Duke University chapter of the conservative Young Americans for Free- dom. “I support the war,” he said, “but I like it better on TV." His date came up 14th. Not all were willing to accept the luck of the draw. While 2 few talked of flight to Canada and some of seek- ing exemptions on physical or psycho- logical grounds, most searched for al- ternatives to the draft. A few planned to seek conscientious-objector status; some expected to enlist in a reserve or National Guard unit. Others, including David Eisenhower, are considering go- ing into teaching, which can bring a draft deferment, to postpone their ser- vice until the war is over. A few, whose birthdays fall in the uncertain middle third, are even considering playing a numbers game with their futures. They feel that it may be advantageous to write their draft boards and ask to be re- classified 1-A. If they are, and are not called next year when there will be more draftable young men in the pool than in succeeding years, they will be draft-free even after graduation. Who's Left. At some schools, stu- dents whose birth dates fell in the last third to be drawn thought about drop- ping out of schoo]. “One reason I’m at Stanford is to keep out of the draft,” said Thulin. “Now I can take some time off and not worry.” Others with high numbers looked for ways of get- ting out of ROTC programs in which they had originally enrolled in an at- tempt to beat the draft. Although most of those spared in last week's drawing felt that the new system was fairer than the old, many found fault. “Its involuntary servitude,” said Grossman. Those opposed to war are also worried about the lot- tery’s effect on the protest movement. “People with high priority numbers seem resigned to go in,” said Thulin, “and people who are free seem self- satisfied. Who's going to be left to criti- cize the draft?” One who has no plans to criticize the draft is Harvard Junior Mitchell Ja- cobs, whose birthday was the 362nd drawn. He was simply grateful. “Now I feel a lot less guilty about my going to coHege,” he explained. “I can look at guys my age who didn't go to college and say that I had to go through the same drawing that they did.” THE ARMY ENEVER a war ends in defeat or a dubious stalemate, the un- successful military leaders are apt to grope for some kind of stab-in-the-back explanation. The U.S. is certainly not headed in Viet Nam for any defeat re- motely akin to Germany’s humiliation in World War I, which the German gen- erals blamed on treacherous politicians and civilian softness. Nor is Vict Nam likely to prove quite as bitter a mil- itary experience as the French aban- donment of the Algerian war, in which some French officers even threatened to attack Paris in their rage against De Gaulle’s pull-out orders. In fact, the U.S. military harbors a new, scarce- ly admitted optimism about the pres- ent battlefield situation in Viet Nam (see THE Nation). This, however, only makes more galling the thought of any outcome short of victory. General William Westmoreland, the commander of U.S. forces in Viet Nam during the critical years 1964-68, seemed to re- flect this, though in a much muted fash- ion, when he said in congressional testimony released last week: “If we had continued to bomb [North Viet Nam], the war would be over at this time —or nearly over.” Classic Mistake The words were wistful and defensive, and they raised an issue that has long stirred controversy in the U.S.: civilian limitations on the use of military pow- er. Most top military officers refrain from public alibis, criticism and rebukes. But many privately agree with West- moreland’s complaint, and there are signs that a stab-in-the-back, or Ver- sailles, complex is developing. Some of- ficers contend that they were not per- mitted to move quickly, massively and without restrictions—either an hombing targets or in hitting enemy sanctuaries along Viet Nam’s borders——once the de- cision was made in 1965 to commit U.S. combat troops. This complaint is aimed mainly at President Johnson and Defense Secretary Robert McNamara, who, some officers argue, wanted to win the war “on the cheap and without disturbing the country.” The Pentagon was appalled that no full mobilization of U.S. manpower was ordered, and that their suggestions for committing up to 750,000 troops as soon as they could be assembled were ig- nored, “Gradualism was the classic mis- take of the McNamara crowd," sums up one Pentagon officer. Says another: “The American people won't support a long war-——but they would have sup- ported a short one if we had got in and got out quickly.” How would unleashing the Air Force have achieved that? While there is heat- TIME, DECEMBER 12, 1969