I was prime draft age, but in 1966 was hit from behind while turning left on a motorcycle and almost lost my left leg below the knee. I ended up with a 6-inch steel plate in my shin. Actually, early wounds in the war may have contributed to the expertise of the Vietnamese doctor who put my leg back together. Why a very nice Vietnamese gent (Dr. Wie L. Bong) settled in the eastern Washington college town of Pullman I don't know, but he was one helluva fine surgeon. Not many could have saved that leg.
Recovery was lengthy, the leg took a long time to achieve decent strength, and I walked with a noticeable limp for a couple of years. (Probably longer than that, but who cares now?) I'm quite confident that if I had been called by the draft, the physical would have failed me in moments. I entered college in 1968 and when the lottery was instituted, I ended up with a high enough draft number that I wasn't very likely to have been called in any case.
At least two of my high school graduating class (176 people) died in Vietnam. A number of my friends in college served and came back, fortunately without major physical injury.
The leg actually healed well, although it's still sensitive to certain kinds of stress. However, I can downhill ski using a protective plate I made which protects the scar where the ski boot contacts it. In fact, I went skiing with my youngest daughter at Loveland ski area in early March. I was planning to ski in the last couple of weeks, but I fell on some ice and cracked a couple of ribs, and I decided I should probably not tempt fate until they heal...which will put me past the end of ski season this year.
Incidentally, I still have an occasional urge to ride a motorcycle, but I've never been able to convince myself that I'm not much better off to be in a car while driving. I'm also a rather nervous bicycle rider and much prefer bike paths to streets shared with cars.
