The erstwhile 750-1 strode out of the Selection Registrar’s office and through the waiting room, past the crowd of other draftees. He tried to put on his best poker face about it. It was just mixed emotions after all. The men around him, if they were friends, rivals or strangers, only one thing was certain.

He’d never see any of them again.

He left the building, crossed the parking lot and took his place in the passenger seat of his father’s car. His father started the engine and got them back on the road.

“So where are you going?”

“Nowhere. They excused me.”

“Why?”

“I think you know.”

The radio in the car had been tuned to a country radio station. All of a sudden the Willie Nelson song got cut off by a siren wail, followed by “This is Civil Defense! We have word that an intruder aircraft has crossed into local airspace near the Wachie delta!”

“Pull over! I see it!” The young man told his father. He was out of the car before it stopped, and running—just as the bombs fell…