KHJ – Robert W. Morgan – May 27, 1968 –
Lunch – the cafeteria is mobbed. It always is. It’s wall-to-wall noise; banging plates, crashing silverware, socializing, avoiding, screwing up courage, worrying about tests.
Not you – not today. Somewhere between the cashier and the Macaroni and Ground Beef it hits you; you’re graduating in less than a month. And it’s your birthday a week after that. And you have to show up at your Draft Board a week after that. Lunch sits there in front of you, soaking up your stares.
Eighteen – you heard about it. You have an older brother. He would tell you; it’s freedom, lots of it – don’t have to go anywhere, don’t have to do anything. Not for the rest of your life, if you don’t want to. Except there’s the Draft Board. Your brother got drafted. Your brother’s a Marine now. He’s in Vietnam. You keep looking for him on the News. He doesn’t write that much – he was never big on letter writing anyway.
And it’s going to be your turn soon. Your Dad was in World War 2 – he was in the Navy – you heard stories since you were old enough to listen. You’ve seen every episode of Victory At Sea at least twice. Your dad talks about The GI Bill and college when your brother gets out. He thinks the war is a good idea.
You don’t. You’ve heard stories – you even demonstrated a few times. You remember the big one a year before at Century City – you were there – you remember running and tear gas and police cars and buses lined up on Pico. Your parents didn’t know you were there. Your dad yelled at the TV, screaming about Commies and hippies and cracking skulls. Every so often he’d look over at you and point ” . . .and if you ever . . .”.
That’s what you have to look forward to. The choices. You would like to disappear – you wonder about Canada or maybe Sweden. No . . your dad would kill you and your mom would disown you and your brother would probably kick the shit out of you when he gets home.
So you stare at your plate.
At least you have KHJ to distract you – and Robert W. Morgan is your go-to guy to get your mind off everything, just like he did this May 27th in 1968.
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