Hello everyone ,
As I was going through a folder of ‘ lost memories ‘ on my desktop , I found a paper I had written a long time ago .
I read through it and thought how very ugly times were , sadly , not much as changed .
My blog has always been based on family friendly content , so with that being said the following piece of work should be read with caution . It is NOT intended for younger readers and I strongly suggest they are not exposed to this piece of work .
I will never edit my work , words and the history behind them must never fall or succumb from those who do not agree with my words .
In closing this preface I can look back at the late John Lennon`s song “ Happy Xmas ( War Is Over ) " .
I so wish it was , however the ignorance of the modern times mentioned in an earlier work still have not faded from view .
I hope you all have a Happy and safe Holiday Season , may the strength of Almighty God give you peace and solidify your future.
I offer you for reading : How It Came To Be , this is true history , I lived it , I am trying to survive it .
Gary S. Ingerson ,
December 20th , 2021
How It Came To Be
How what came to be? you might ask , well I am about to tell you.
It was the year 1967 , the world was fucked , like it is today , but there was also a feeling of uneasiness , the kind of pit in your stomach like before the big game.
You could die at any time , I guess that is no different than today , but it was harder
to come to grips with the fact the someone else was sending you to damn nation.
The family that lived next door lost there only son on a bright and cold November morning in a car accident at a place that does not even exist anymore. The town is still there , but like so many things the road has changed.
In another part of town , the family of a young solider got the news that he had been killed at the battle for Hamburger Hill , but he signed up , thinking he could do some good , but all that happened was he died and his family got a flag and 10 thousand.
Later that year the same family lost there oldest son on a turn in the road called Dead Mans Turn , yes , we had one of those. It was an ugly death , a needless death , and it was his fault. Speed and the feeling of invincibility can really kill you.
As a child growing up in the `50`s , we lived under the fear of death every day , the all mighty mushroom cloud could kill us at any time. I still recall the "duck and cover" drills at school , only now do I realize it was just to quell our fear and instill a thought that you could survive a nuclear attack.
Then came the sixties , for real , the Cuban missile crisis , some ass hole in Russia really wanted to have a go at it , that was really the whole stupidity that was the sixties. The world was fucked and more and more each day , we all came to grips that we may not see tomorrow.
And then just when you thought you could take a peaceful breath , you listened to the nightly news and was told of the death count for that day. They told of the number of soldiers that died in the last 24 hours in a shit hole country called Vietnam.
Then on some late summer day there was a music event that became the crying out of all the young people that could be drafted and possibly killed , the placed was called Woodstock , and when it was over , everyone knew it`s name and that change would happen , but you still had plenty of time to die.
1970 , signed up for the draft , not because I wanted to or was patriotic , but because to not do so meant you got 3 hots and a cot , in some federal prison shit hole. So better take your chance with the gooks , than with your own country.
The day had come , lottery time. You see they had in place a lottery where your birth date was picked and matched with a number from 1 to 365 , corresponding to the days in a year. If you were lucky you had a number from 101 to 365 , anything less than 100 meant that you would be receiving your draft notice as soon as possible , and you would be trained to kill and if need be trained to die.
It was a warm sunny day in August , that morning was date for the 1971 draft lottery , and the nightly news was still giving the nation a death count for the day.
I remember my parents thought a drive would be best to ease the tension , all I wanted to do was be by myself until I could get my hands on the afternoon paper.
And I finally did and my number was 230 , and I thought to myself that I was free , however I was not , none of us were. Sure anyone receiving a number from 101 to 365 was reclassified 1-H , which meant not readily available military service.
So then life went on and so did the seventies , but that is another time .
The Story Continues …
© Gary Stanton Ingerson
Sept. 26th , 2014
