Microcomm Publications - Poetry: Confessions of a Draft Dodger

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Confessions of a Draft Dodger
(a true story from the VietNam era)
Copyright © 2013 by Dr. H. Paul Shuch

I knew it was a crazy time to be away from school,
But winds of change were blowing, and the breeze was fresh and cool.
From Selma to Montgomery we marched to change the world,
With Dr. King our leader, and with freedom's flag unfurled.
I knew when I got back to campus, student life would end,
But there are some decisions one should not have to defend.
It's times like these upon which social progress must depend.

With academic draft deferment permanently lost,
The military beckoned me. But I had known the cost.
Defecting's not an option. Besides, Canada's too cold,
And prison's even worse than being drafted, I am told.
But they will not be taking me against my will. It's clear
There has to be another way. I know - I volunteer!

By signing up, I get to pick the branch that pleases me,
Say, Air Force - so much pleasanter than front line infantry.
Because I'm educated, I possess a bargaining tool,
And talk the Master Sergeant into sending me to school.
I pick the longest training that they have. It lasts a year.
By then, the war will all be over, nothing left to fear.

I march into their classroom, and I simply bide my time.
It doesn't take me very long to realize that I'm
The best MF-ing student in the whole MF-ing school,
But don't want to be noticed. Keep my head down. Play it cool.
I'm glad the tech instructors simply do not comprehend
My mission: sit here waiting for the freakin' war to end.

The year has gone by quickly, but the war is dragging on.
There's troop ships heading overseas, and soon I will be gone.
But I have graduated as the top man in my class,
And so they keep me Stateside. Maybe that will save my ass!
Another year of training is in store for me. By then
There's just no way this senseless war will not come to an end.

Again, I have miscalculated. Things are heating up.
It seems as though the Generals will never get enough.
And now, with all this training that they've crammed into my head,
I'm overqualified to go where people end up dead.
But I had chosen conscience, knowing fully well the score,
And now would face the consequences, marching off to war.

But luck, or maybe just a guardian angel, intervenes.
I pull command post duty. A battalion of Marines
Is standing guard around my duty station. They're outside,
While in the bunker, I've found me a cozy place to hide.
With bayonets and guns, the troops are guarding every door.
I'll wait in here until they finally end this freakin' war.

A noncombatant never has to stare death in the face.
He earns no decorations, but that is no disgrace.
It's not that I am risk averse. I play it safe because
I'm here by chance, not somebody believing in their cause.
I won't take risks like I did when I marched with Dr. King.
That was a cause worth dying for. This here's another thing.

The most important task I can perform now is survive,
And hope to see a better world, where everyone alive
Can hold their heads up high, and exercise their given rights
To bright, productive days, and ever calm and restful nights.
So I go home, and lick my wounds, and look around, and then
Create a world where nobody need ever fight again.

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