My number was 267. The highest number called to service was 195, so I would not have been drafted. I checked all the other years as well, and the lowest number my birthday drew was 112 in 1975, but no additional draftees were made after 1972. If I were of age at the time, I would not have been drafted.
290, if I had been alive and also male. My boyfriend is a Leap Day baby and still has a number, which is something I have often wondered. (285, so I guess in a genderless society we would have been in the same boat.)
I was in a different year’s lottery and my number was 26. I did report for my physical, but I have asthma, and I did have a real attack in front of one of the doctors. I got a 1-Y deferment.
Holy crap, I would’ve been number 14 :eek::eek:! I wonder if my natural 20/200 vision (no eye surgery back then) would’ve been enough to get me a medical deferment? If not and I couldn’t get CO status (or convince the draft board I’m gayer than a picinic basket) it’s off to Canada I’d go. Also this kind of chart would be a great thing to show any high school social studies class. I know the subject of conscription came up on a regular basis in my classes, especially after 9/11.
My dad’s was 91, and apparently he thought it was low enough to worry about; he eventually decided that if he was going to be drafted anyway, he might as well serve a country he believed in, and immigrated to Israel (with my mom in tow). The rest, as they say, is history.
Pretty common, I think, at least for people who preferred not to be a ground pounder or a grunt. It was nearly impossible to get into the National Guard, unless your daddy was connected (George Bush is an example), so the Navy and Air Force were able to easily fill their quotas with people fleeing the Army draft system. I still ended up on the ground in RVN, but wasn’t part of a combat unit.