<div class="floatleft">(http://i5.photobucket.com/albums/y161/Redmaige/JamesLloyd-1.jpg) </div><br/><br/>Two weeks before his birthday, James received his selective service letter.  It was titled. ‘Order to Report for Induction’.  He had been drafted.  The letter didn’t really bother him, in some ways he was relieved to get drafted.  He knew his name would be called when he heard on the news that congress had doubled the draft.  Maybe if he had someone it would have been different, James didn’t have any real family or friends.  Maybe if he had someone he cared about or someone who cared about him he would have tried to dodge the draft.  But there wasn’t anyone.  Just an alcoholic uncle that couldn’t care less about him, the man was actually overjoyed and eager to be rid of the burden of fostering his dead brother’s kid.<br/><br/>On the afternoon of August 15th, two days after turning eighteen, with a green duffle slung over his shoulder, and in a matching green uniform James started walking down the road.  His orders were to be in the lobby of the post office when the bus arrived at seven p.m.  He set out early in case he couldn’t hitch a ride, twenty miles was a long ways to walk.  After about five miles, he managed to thumb down an old flatbed pickup truck.  The driver was nice enough to let him ride in the back all the way to town.<br/><br/>“Thanks mister.” James shouted with a wave as the rusty old truck drove away.  Kicking at the dust in the street, James walked to the post office and took a seat on an empty bench out front.  There really wasn’t much to look at.  It seemed like any other typical town.  A movie theatre, “Spinout” starring Elvis was on the marquee, a dime drug store, and a diner lined the street opposite the view from the post office.  It was going to be a long wait.  The unexpected ride put him far ahead of schedule.  James thought about going to see the new Elvis movie, but he really wasn’t in the mood.  His nerves were a mess.  Not wanting to be alone, and the diner his only other option, James snatched up his duffle and went to the diner for a bite to eat and hopefully some company.<br/><br/>A small bell chimed when he opened the door, but the volume of the jukebox overpowered any noise the bell could produce.   The Four Tops belted out over the diner, “Reach Out I’ll Be There” as James shuffled his feet to an empty booth and after slinging his duffle in, he slid in on the far side of the booth so he could watch the folks in the diner.  He picked up a menu even though he didn’t have much of an appetite or much money either, and pretended to read.<br/><br/>(Picture: Yearbook Photo, Senior year 1965, James Lloyd, Offensive Guard)<br/><br/><em><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 8pt;">Two days past eighteen<br/>He was waiting for the bus in his army green<br/>Sat down in a booth in a cafe there<br/></span></em><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;"></span>