"I've no idea," said Tom, "but if his namecomes up in the ballot, you'll probably meet up with him in the front line."

As each month passed, and no plain brown envelope appeared in his mail slot, Fletcher began to believe that he had been among the fortunate ones that hadn't made the ballot. However, he had already decided what his reply would be should the slim brown envelope appear.

When Jimmy was called up, he immediately consulted his father, who advised him to apply for an exemption while he was still an undergraduate, but to make it clear that he would be willing to reconsider his position in three years' time. He also reminded Jimmy that by then there might well be a new president, new legislation and a strong possibility that Americans would no longer be in Vietnam. Jimmy took his father's advice, and was outspoken when he discussed the moral issue with Fletcher.

"I have no intention of risking my life against a bunch of Vietcong, who will, in the end, succumb to capitalism, even if they fail in the short term to respond to military superiority."

Annie agreed with her brother's views, and was relieved that Fletcher hadn't received a draft notice. She wasn't in any doubt how he would respond.

On January 5, 1968, Nat reported to his local draft board.

After a rigorous medical examination, he was interviewed by a Major Willis. The major was impressed; Cartwright scored ninety-two percent in his pre induction physical, having spent a morning with young men who came up with a hundred different reasons why he should find them medically unfit to serve. In the afternoon, Nat sat the General Classification Test, and scored ninety-seven percent.

The following night, along with fifty other inductees, Nat boarded a bus destined for New Jersey. During the slow, interminable journey across the state lines, Nat toyed with little plastic trays of food that made up his boxed lunch, before falling into a fitful sleep.

The bus finally came to a halt at Fort Dix inthe early hours of the morning. The would, and would not be, soldiers off-loaded to be greeted by the yells of drill sergeants. They were quickly billeted in prefabricated huts, and then allowed to sleep for a couple of hours.

The following morning, Nat rose-he had no choice-at five, and after being given a "buzz cut," was issued fatigues. All fifty new recruits were then ordered to write a letter to their parents, SONS OF FORTUNE while at the same time returning every item of civilian origin to their home of record.

During the day, Nat was interviewed by Specialist Fourth Class Jackson, who, having checked through his papers, had only one question, "You do realize, Cartwright, that you could have applied for exemption?"

"Yes, I do, sir."

Specialist Jackson raised an eyebrow.

"And having taken advice, you made the decision not to?"

"I didn't need to take advice, sir."

"Good, then just as soon as you've completed your basic training, Private Cartwright, I'm sure you'll want to apply for officer cadet school."

He paused. "About two in fifty make it, so don't get your hopes up. By the way," he added, "you don't call me sir. Specialist Fourth Class will be just fine."

After years of cross-country running Nat considered himself in good shape, but he quickly discovered that the army had a totally different meaning for the word, not fully explained in Webster's. And as for the other word-basic-everything was basic: the food, the clothing, the heating, and especially the bed he was expected to sleep on. Nat could only assume that the army were importing their mattresses direct from North Vietnam, so that they could experience the same hardship as the enemy.For the next eight weeks Nat rose every morning at five, took a cold shower-heat simply didn't exist in army parlance-was dressed, fed and had his clothes neatly folded on the end of the bed before standing at attention on the parade ground by six a.m.

along with all the other members of Second Platoon Alpha Company.

The first person to address him each morning was Drill Sergeant Also Quamo, who always looked so smart that Nat assumed he must have risen at four to press his uniform. And if Nat attempted to speak to anyone else during the next fourteen hours, Quamo wanted to know who and why.

The drill sergeant was the same height as Nat, and there the resemblance ended. Nat never stood still long enough to count the sergeant's medals. "I'm your mother, your father, and your closest friend," he bellowed at the top of his voice. "Do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir," shouted back thirty-six raw recruits from the Second Platoon. "You're my mother, my father and my closest friend."

Most of the platoon had applied for exemption and been turned down. Many of them considered Nat was crazy to volunteer, and it took several weeks before they changed their minds about the boy from Cromwell.

Long before the course had ended, Nat had become the platoon counselor, letter writer, advisor and confidant. He even taught a couple of the recruits to read. He didn't choose to tell his mother what they had taught him in return. Halfway through the course, Quamo made him squad leader.

"I At the end of the two-month stint, Nat came first in everything which involved spelling. He also surprised his fellow rookies by beating them all around the cross-country course and, although he had never fired a weapon before basic training, he even out-shot the boys from Queens when it came to mastering the M60 machine gun and the M70 grenade launcher.

They were more practiced in smaller weapons.

It didn't take eight weeks for Quamo to change his mind about Nat's chances of makingOfficer Cadet School. Unlike most of the other "sad sacks" who were destined for 'nam, he found that Nat was a born leader.

"Mind you," Quamo warned Nat, "a butter bar second lieutenant is just as likely to have his ass blown off as a private soldier, because one thing's for certain, the VC can't tell the difference."

Sergeant Quamo turned out to be right, because only two soldiers were selected to go to Fort Benning. The other was a college boy from Third Platoon named Dick Tyler.

For the first three weeks at Fort Benning, the main outdoor activity was alongside the black hats.

The parachute instructors took their new recruits through their landing falls, first from a thirty-five-foot wall, and later from the dreaded three-hundred-foot tower. Of the two hundred soldiers who began the course, less than a hundred made it through to the next stage. Nat was among the final ten chosen to wear a white helmet during jump week. Fifteen jumps later, and it was his turn to have silver jump wings pinned to his chest.

When Nat returned home for a week's furlough, his mother hardly recognized the child who had left her three months earlier. He had been replaced by a man, an inch taller and seven pounds lighter, with a crew cut that made his father reminisce about his days in Italy.

After the short break, Nat returned to Fort Benning, pulled back on his glistening Corcoran jump boots, threw his barrack bag over his shoulder, and took the short walk from airborne to the other side of the road.

Here he began his training as an infantry officer. Although he rose just as early each morning, he now spent far more of his time in the classroom, studying military history, map reading, tactics and command strategy, along with seventy other would-be officers who were also preparing to be sent to Vietnam.

The one statistic no one would talk about was that more than fifty percent of them could expect to return in a body bag."Joanna's going to have to face a disciplinary inquiry," said Jimmy as he sat on the end of Fletcher's bed. "Whereas it's me who should be suffering the wrath of the ethics committee," he added.

Fletcher tried to calm his friend, but he had never seen him so incensed. "Why can't they understand that it's not a crime to fall in love?"

"I think you'll find that they are more worried about the consequences of it happening the other way around," said Fletcher.

"What do you mean?" asked Jimmy, looking up.

"Simply that the administration is genuinely concerned about male teachers taking advantage of young, impressionable female undergraduates."

"But can't they tell when it's genuine?" asked Jimmy. "Anyone can see that I adore Joanna, and she feels the same way about me."

"And they might even have turned a blind eye in your case if you both hadn't made it so public."

"I would have thought you of all people would have respected Joanna for her refusal to be disingenuous on the subject," said Jimmy.

"I do," said Fletcher, "but she's left the authorities with no option but to respond to that honesty, given the university regulations."

"Then it's the regulations that need changing," said Jimmy. "Joanna believes as a teacher, you shouldn't have to hide your true feelings.

She wants to make sure that the next generation never have to face the same predicament."

"Jimmy, I'm not disagreeing with you, and knowing Joanna, she will have thought about those regulations carefully and also have a strong view on the relevance of rule 17b.", "Of course she does, but Joanna isn't going to become engaged I just to let the board off the hook."

"That's some woman you asked if you could carry her books," said Fletcher.

"Don't remind me," Jimmy replied. "You know that they're now cheering her at the beginning andend of every lecture she gives."

"So when does the ethics committee convene to make its decision?"

"Next Wednesday at ten o'clock. It's going to be a media field day. I just wish my father wasn't coming up for reelection in the fall."

"I wouldn't worry about your father," said Fletcher.

"My bet is that he'll have already found a way of turning the problem to his advantage."

Nat had never expected to come into contact with his commanding officer, and wouldn't have done so if his mother hadn't parked her car in the colonel's reserved space. When Nat's father spotted the sign commandant, he suggested she should quickly reverse.

Susan reversed a little too quickly, and collided with Colonel Tremlett's jeep just as he swung in.

"Oh, God," said Nat as he leaped out of the car. "I wouldn't go that far," said Tremlett.

"Colonel will do just fine." Nat leaped to attention and saluted as his father surreptitiously checked the commandant's medals. "We must have served together," he said, staring at a red and green ribbon among the cluster on his chest. The colonel looked up from studying the dent in his fender. "I was with the Eightieth in Italy," Nat's father explained.

"I hope you maneuvered those Shermans a damn sight better than you drive a car," said the colonel as the two men shook hands. Michael didn't mention that it was his wife who was driving.

Tremlett looked at Nat. "Cartwright, isn't it?"

"Yes, sir," said Nat, surprised that the commanding officer knew his name.

"Your son looks as though he's going to be top of his class when he graduates next week," Tremlett said, turning his attention back to Nat's father. He paused, "I may have an assignment in mind for him," he added without explanation. "Report to my office at eight tomorrow morning, Cartwright." The colonel smiled at Nat's mother, and shook hands once again with his father, beforeturning back to Nat. "And if I can see a dent in that fender when I leave tonight, Cartwright, you can forget your next furlough." The colonel winked at Nat's mother as the boy sprang to attention and saluted again.

Nat spent the afternoon on his knees with a hammer and a pot of khaki paint.

The following morning, Nat arrived at the colonel's office at seven forty-five, and was surprised to be ushered straight through to see the commandant. Tremlett pointed to a chair on the other side of his desk.

"So you've stood up and been counted, Nat," were the colonel's first words as he glanced down at his file. "What do you want to do next?"

Nat looked across at Colonel Tremlett, a man with five rows of ribbons on his chest.

He'd seen action in Italy and Korea and had recently returned from a tour of duty in Vietnam. His nickname was "the terrier," because he enjoyed getting so close to the enemy that he could bite their ankles. Nat responded to his question immediately.

"I expect to be among those posted to Vietnam, sir."

"It's not necessary for you to serve in the Asian sector," said his CO. "You've proved your point, and there are several other postings I can recommend, ranging from Berlin to Washington, D.c., so that once you've completed your two years, you can return to university."

"That rather defeats the object, doesn't it, sir?"

"But it's almost unknown to send an enlisted officer to 'nam," said the CO, "especially one of your caliber."

"Then perhaps the time has come for someone to break the mold. After all, that's what you keep reminding us leadership is all about."

"What if I asked you to complete your service as my staff officer, then you could assist me here at the academy with the next intake of recruits?"

"So that they can all go off to Vietnam and get themselves killed?" Nat stared across the tableat his CO. He immediately regretted overstepping the mark.

"Do you know who the last person was who sat there and told me he was determined to go to 'nam, and nothing I could say would change his mind?"

"No, sir."

"My son, Daniel," replied Tremlett, "and on that occasion I had no choice but to accept his decision." The colonel paused, glancing at a photo on his desk that Nat couldn't see. "He survived for eleven days."

woman lecturer seduces senator's son, screamed the banner headline in the New Haven Register.

"That's a bloody insult," said Jimmy.

"What do you mean?" asked Fletcher.

"I seduced her."

When Fletcher stopped laughing, he continued to read the front page article Joanna Palmer, a lecturer in European history at Yale, has had her contract terminated by the University Ethics Committee, after admitting that she was having an affair with James Gates, a freshman she has been teaching for the past six months. Mr. Gates is the son of Senator Harry Gates. Last night, from their home in East Hartford. .

Fletcher looked up. "How has your father taken it?"

"Tells me he'll win by a landslide," said Jimmy. "All the women's rights groups are backing Joanna, and all the men think I'm the coolest thing since Dustin Hoffman's Graduate.

Dad also believes that the committee will be left with no choice but to reverse their decision long before the term ends."

"And if they don't?" asked Fletcher. "What chance is there of Joanna being offered another job?"

"That's the least of her problems," Jimmy replied, "because the phone hasn't stopped ringing since the committee announced their decision. Both Radcliffe, where she did her undergraduate degree, and Columbia, where she completed herPh.d., have offered her jobs, and that was before the opinion poll on the Today Show reported that eighty-two percent of their viewers thought she should be reinstated."

"So what does she plan to do next?"

"Appeal, and my bet is that the committee won't be able to ignore public opinion."

"But where does that leave you?"

"I still want to marry Joanna, but she won't hear of it until she know the result of her arbitration. She refuses to become engaged in case it influences the committee in her favor. She's determined to win the case on its merits, not on public sentiment."

"That's a remarkable woman you've got yourself involved with," said Fletcher.

"I agree," said Jimmy. "And you only know the half of it."

lt. Nat cartwright had been stenciled on the door of his little office at MACV headquarters even before he'd arrived in Saigon. It quickly became clear to Nat that he was to be desk-bound for his entire watch, not even allowed to discover where the front line was. On arrival, he did not join his regiment in the field, but was assigned to Combat Service Support. Colonel Tremlett's dispatches had obviously landed in Saigon long before he had.

Nat was described on the daily manifest as a quartermaster, which allowed those above him to pile up the paperwork, and those below him to take their time carrying out his orders. They all seemed to be involved in the plot, a plot that resulted in Nat I spending every working hour filling in regulation forms for items as varied as baked beans and Chinook helicopters. Seven hundred and twenty-two tons of supplies were flown into the capital every week, and it was Nat's duty to see they reached the front line. In any one month, he handled over nine thousand items. Everything managed to get there except him. He even resorted to sleeping with thecommanding officer's secretary, but quickly discovered that Mollie had no real influence over her boss, although he did find out about her considerable expertise in unarmed combat.

Nat began leaving the office later and later each evening, and even began to wonder if he was in a foreign country. When you have a Big Mac and Coke for lunch, Kentucky Fried Chicken with a Budweiser for dinner, and return to the officers"

quarters every evening to watch the ABC News and reruns of 77 Sunset Strip, what proof is there that you ever left home?

Nat made several surreptitious attempts to join his regiment in the front line, but as the weeks passed he came to realize that Colonel Tremlett's influence permeated everywhere; his applications would land back on his desk, rubber-stamped: Refused, reapply in one month.

Whenever Nat requested an interview to discuss the issue with a field officer, he never managed to see anyone above the rank of staff major. On each occasion, a different officer would spend half an hour trying to convince Nat that he was doing a valuable and worthwhile job in requisition. His combat file was the thinnest in Saigon.

Nat was beginning to realize that his stand on "a matter of principle" had served no purpose. In a month's time Tom would be starting his second year at Yale, and what did he have to show for his efforts other than a crew cut and an inside knowledge of how many paper clips the army required in Vietnam in any one month?

Nat was sitting in his office, preparing for the new intake of recruits due to report the following Monday, when all that changed.

Accommodation, clothing and travel documents had kept him occupied all day and well into the evening.