The Joy Of Paperwork
When I was in graduate school, because of the escalating Vietnam War, married men who had previously been exempt were beginning to be drafted. A friend I had made in school, whowas in the Medical Service Corps, told me that it was a branch of the Army that gave direct commissions to MBA graduates. He said that the small amount of basic training was easy and then I would work in hospital administration.
I followed his advice and upon graduation my wife and I headed to Fort Sam Houston for training; however, one of the first things I learned when I arrived was that in a combat situation I might be called on to assist the doctor with medical procedures such as tracheotomies, transfusions and broken bone settings.
That evening when I told my wife the alarming news she calmly instructed me to settle down and stop trembling. “First of all,” she said, there is a good chance you won’t even go to Vietnam, but even if you do, you likely won’t be in the situation of having to do those procedures.”
I said, “You know, you’re exactly right. I guess I overreacted.”
Then she said, (I thought unnecessarily) “that’s a whole different subject we won’t go into now.”
So I was okay until they announced two weeks later that at the end of our eight weeks of training some of us would be selected to stay an additional four weeks for work in the animal lab performing the procedures that had been discussed. That afternoon I rushed back to our apartment and told my wife, “I know you think I tend to overreact, but here’s what they announced today.”
She said, “Actually, for once your reaction is totally appropriate. You would never make it. As weak as your stomach is, you would be in a coma the whole time.”
I said, “Well, if I’m selected, I’ll just have to tell them I can’t do it.”
She said, “Then they will probably put you in the infantry, which would also be terrible because you know how you hate getting dirty.”
The day for announcing the selections arrived and I was not included. The breath of air I exhaled was so loud that half of the people in the room turned to see what had happened. That night back at the apartment we celebrated as if the war had ended.
A few weeks later we were waiting for news as to where I would be assigned when I received a call from my Medical Service Corps friend. He said he was now working in the office in Washington where assignments were made and wanted to confirm that Germany was still my first choice. I excitedly told him it was and added how much I valued our friendship and that he had been my favorite classmate and some other flattering stuff I can’t remember.
I’ll never forget how happy I was when I arrived at the post in Germany and was shown to my office with the desk where I would be doing paperwork far from the area where medical procedures were taking place.
Soon my wife and I were making new friends and planning trips across Europe. Life was good – then, I got a call telling me how it could be better. A guy stationed in Berlin who had played college football about the same time as I had got in touch to tell me about a great opportunity that was available to me. He said the Berlin army post was in a military football league and the coach could get me transferred there to play for them. He said that other than practice and games there was a lot of time off and quite a few perks. I told him I would think about it. Here’s what I thought:
1. Playing football is a lot like the infantry – you get real tired and real dirty.
2. Unless you’re playing touch there is a lot of contact that can cause pain and injury.
3. The job I presently had required no conditioning unless you counted playing golf three times a week.
My wife was also quick to tell me how happy she was where we were and remind me that I was even skinnier and weaker than when I had last played.
So we stayed put and what I had first thought was an interruption in my life turned out to be three of the best years of my life. And to think it could easily have been war in Vietnam or football in Berlin.