Some folks are born made to wave the flag, Ooh, they’re red, white, and blue. Yeah! The year is 1969 and over half of the young men who graduated with me from high school last year are serving in Vietnam. Everyone talks patriotism; everyone waves the flag, but the war in Vietnam is raging and not everyone gets drafted by the Selective Service. The fortunate ones get deferred or find a way to get deferred. Unable to afford college and unwilling to marry and start a family at such a young age, those who do not qualify for a Selective Service System deferment are classified 1-A and get drafted. The Selective Service lives up to its name; it selects men mostly from the middle and the lower middle class. It ain’t me, it ain’t me, I ain’t no senator’s son, son. It ain’t me, it ain’t me; I ain’t no fortunate one, no. The following year, 1970, my brother is home from his “tour of duty.” It sounds like spending a year of his life in Vietnam was a vacation; war is any