thedrifter
09-04-07, 07:32 AM
Sept. 3, 2007, 9:30PM
Draft board still keeping tabs
Young men are being registered, but a call to arms remains unlikely
By DANE SCHILLER
Houston Chronicle
The military draft died as the Vietnam War folded into history and most politicians still won't discuss resurrecting it. The U.S. Selective Service System, however, marches on.
Besides leading an ongoing public campaign to register millions of adult males younger than 26 who provide a potential pool of future draftees, it quietly maintains a network of 11,000 civilian volunteers standing by to operate local draft boards.
Volunteers, including about 95 in Harris County, don't have offices, badges or get paid. They meet annually to practice deciding who should go to war.
While Selective Service officials insist the draft is not making a comeback, the matter is gaining attention in high places.
Lt. Gen. Douglas Lute, a deputy national security adviser known as the war czar, told National Public Radio in August that tough going in the Middle East makes cranking up the draft worth considering.
If a draft were implemented, volunteers would convene five-member panels to hear pleas from men asking to be excused for religious, moral and other reasons.
Objecting to war might get you out of duty. Fear will not.
"If they get a (draft) notice and all of a sudden they are against war, that is too late," said Lowell Heinz, a bushy-bearded 74-year-old Harris County board member.
"They have to provide a history of being against wars and being in the military," said Heinz, who served in the Marines. He has been on the local draft board since 1990.
Although board members vary in age, they trend older. Among those in Harris County are a teacher, a lawyer, a firefighter, a real estate agent and a social worker.
Members can serve up to 20 years and can't be active or retired military.
The governor submits nominations to the Selective Service, but anyone can fill out an application on the Internet.
Skeleton crew on hand
Whenever there are drafts, there are draft-dodgers.
During Vietnam, draftees wanting to avoid induction reportedly broke their hands or feet, pretended to be gay or drank large amounts of soda to make their sugar levels soar. Demonstrators burned draft cards. Some fled to Canada.
Regulations have changed.
College deferments are no longer good indefinitely and draft boards are to be representative of their communities. As for being openly homosexual, the Pentagon refuses to speculate if that would excuse duty.
Nowadays, the Selective Service has a skeleton crew of professionals and military reservists. It stockpiles names, addresses and Social Security numbers of men who register in a database housed on a naval base.
That includes 1.2 million Texans.
"We are, like, on the shelf," Selective Service spokesman Dan Amon said.
Under the law, males ages 18 through 25 are required to register. Texas' compliance rate is 91 percent, just under the national average of 93 percent.
Failure to register is a felony, but the Justice Department couldn't point to any prosecutions since the 1970s.
Incentive to register
Perhaps the biggest incentive to register is that failing to do so can mean ineligibility for government education funds, training and jobs.
There's also a note on the agency's Web page advising undocumented immigrants to register so they can avoid trouble if they later become citizens.
As protracted fighting in the Middle East might seem to bolster the chances of a draft, the agency's budget will drop to $22 million for fiscal year 2008. That is the lowest since 1982.
"Our annual budget is less than the cost of a fighter plane," said Claude Hempel, a retired Army colonel who is the Selective Service director in Texas. "Does that sound like an organization gearing up to bring back the draft?" he said. "I think not."
Any talk of the draft hearkens back to the Vietnam War, which deeply divided Americans and captivated lives.
"It was a completely dominating experience. Every young man and the woman who loved him was focused on what would happen. Everybody was trying to find a way around it," recalled Debra Danburg, a former state legislator, who as a University of Houston student was in the anti-war movement.
Clarence Sasser said his life changed forever when he got a draft notice while attending the University of Houston.
"It certainly did change, I will admit that," he said. "It is sort of hard to know if it was for the better; I tend to think it was for the better because I got to serve my country."
After passing on a college deferment, Sasser went into the Army, where he was trained as a medic. After less than three months in the jungle, his company was caught in an attack, during which he earned the Medal of Honor without firing a shot.
"I have a lot of pride in that my medal was awarded for saving lives rather than taking lives. Although I don't have a problem or didn't have a problem with taking lives, it was not my job."
A citation notes Sasser was wounded three times as he ran and later dragged himself through the mud to treat wounded troops. In pain and losing blood, he treated soldiers for hours until help arrived.
Sasser said he wrestled for years with his wounds and never graduated from college.
"Many moons and many years have passed" since Vietnam. "It finds its niche and that is where it stays."
dane.schiller@chron.com
Ellie
Draft board still keeping tabs
Young men are being registered, but a call to arms remains unlikely
By DANE SCHILLER
Houston Chronicle
The military draft died as the Vietnam War folded into history and most politicians still won't discuss resurrecting it. The U.S. Selective Service System, however, marches on.
Besides leading an ongoing public campaign to register millions of adult males younger than 26 who provide a potential pool of future draftees, it quietly maintains a network of 11,000 civilian volunteers standing by to operate local draft boards.
Volunteers, including about 95 in Harris County, don't have offices, badges or get paid. They meet annually to practice deciding who should go to war.
While Selective Service officials insist the draft is not making a comeback, the matter is gaining attention in high places.
Lt. Gen. Douglas Lute, a deputy national security adviser known as the war czar, told National Public Radio in August that tough going in the Middle East makes cranking up the draft worth considering.
If a draft were implemented, volunteers would convene five-member panels to hear pleas from men asking to be excused for religious, moral and other reasons.
Objecting to war might get you out of duty. Fear will not.
"If they get a (draft) notice and all of a sudden they are against war, that is too late," said Lowell Heinz, a bushy-bearded 74-year-old Harris County board member.
"They have to provide a history of being against wars and being in the military," said Heinz, who served in the Marines. He has been on the local draft board since 1990.
Although board members vary in age, they trend older. Among those in Harris County are a teacher, a lawyer, a firefighter, a real estate agent and a social worker.
Members can serve up to 20 years and can't be active or retired military.
The governor submits nominations to the Selective Service, but anyone can fill out an application on the Internet.
Skeleton crew on hand
Whenever there are drafts, there are draft-dodgers.
During Vietnam, draftees wanting to avoid induction reportedly broke their hands or feet, pretended to be gay or drank large amounts of soda to make their sugar levels soar. Demonstrators burned draft cards. Some fled to Canada.
Regulations have changed.
College deferments are no longer good indefinitely and draft boards are to be representative of their communities. As for being openly homosexual, the Pentagon refuses to speculate if that would excuse duty.
Nowadays, the Selective Service has a skeleton crew of professionals and military reservists. It stockpiles names, addresses and Social Security numbers of men who register in a database housed on a naval base.
That includes 1.2 million Texans.
"We are, like, on the shelf," Selective Service spokesman Dan Amon said.
Under the law, males ages 18 through 25 are required to register. Texas' compliance rate is 91 percent, just under the national average of 93 percent.
Failure to register is a felony, but the Justice Department couldn't point to any prosecutions since the 1970s.
Incentive to register
Perhaps the biggest incentive to register is that failing to do so can mean ineligibility for government education funds, training and jobs.
There's also a note on the agency's Web page advising undocumented immigrants to register so they can avoid trouble if they later become citizens.
As protracted fighting in the Middle East might seem to bolster the chances of a draft, the agency's budget will drop to $22 million for fiscal year 2008. That is the lowest since 1982.
"Our annual budget is less than the cost of a fighter plane," said Claude Hempel, a retired Army colonel who is the Selective Service director in Texas. "Does that sound like an organization gearing up to bring back the draft?" he said. "I think not."
Any talk of the draft hearkens back to the Vietnam War, which deeply divided Americans and captivated lives.
"It was a completely dominating experience. Every young man and the woman who loved him was focused on what would happen. Everybody was trying to find a way around it," recalled Debra Danburg, a former state legislator, who as a University of Houston student was in the anti-war movement.
Clarence Sasser said his life changed forever when he got a draft notice while attending the University of Houston.
"It certainly did change, I will admit that," he said. "It is sort of hard to know if it was for the better; I tend to think it was for the better because I got to serve my country."
After passing on a college deferment, Sasser went into the Army, where he was trained as a medic. After less than three months in the jungle, his company was caught in an attack, during which he earned the Medal of Honor without firing a shot.
"I have a lot of pride in that my medal was awarded for saving lives rather than taking lives. Although I don't have a problem or didn't have a problem with taking lives, it was not my job."
A citation notes Sasser was wounded three times as he ran and later dragged himself through the mud to treat wounded troops. In pain and losing blood, he treated soldiers for hours until help arrived.
Sasser said he wrestled for years with his wounds and never graduated from college.
"Many moons and many years have passed" since Vietnam. "It finds its niche and that is where it stays."
dane.schiller@chron.com
Ellie