After high school graduation (during Depression times), I dug sewer-pipe ditches, pumped gas, and worked as nightwatchman at a Tourist Camp (Motel) under construction, while reading at a steady rate. In September, 1940, Congress passed the Draft Act. Young men, 21 years or over, must register. If drafted, you were supposed to serve "in the Military" for just one year.

In January, 1941, I met a guy I graduated with. "Sonny, we'll have to register this summer. And, if we're drafted, we'll have to serve a year after that. But I just found out how we can speed that up." He explained that the Tulsa Draft Board was having trouble making its quota in this town with so many young men from oil-rich families. So the Draft Board was encouraging poorer young men to "volunteer to go with the draftees". "I'm gonna volunteer to go with the draftees, Sonny. How about you?"

I discussed this with my father. And Dad accompanied me to the Draft Board to sign for me, because I was under age. I still have my draft card, yellowed with age, clearly showing that my 21th birthday was yet to come. I was to ship out in Febrary (1941) for Fort Sill, OK, to serve with the Army Artillery. Then I realized how stupid I'd been. I'd read so much about the War in Europe. I was convinced we'd be drawn into it soon -- somehow. I wouldn't get out after a year -- not in wartime! What to do?

I'd read about the newly begun practise of the Norweigan-originated science of meteorology in the U. S. And I'd talked to the Army Air Corps Recruiting Sergeant about the AAC Weather Corps. The Sergeant seemed a nice joe. So I took my problem to him. The Sergeant told me that the "volunteer drafting" of the Tulsa Draft Board (like other draft boards around the country) was illegal, as the courts seemed about to declare. "But, Hays, the decision won't be out in time to keep you from going into the Artillery. No, wait! You can still volunteer to enlist in the Army Air Corps." His Captain assured me that this was true. "We'll notify the Draft Board that you're going in 'The Regular Army'." Also, I knew a woman who worked for the Draft Board and phoned her about my action. So my dad again signed for me to enlist in the Army Air Corps.

On Jan. 27, 1941, I was sworn into the Army Air Corps and sent to Texas. While in recruit training, your mail is held up for a while. ("The recruit's tears could blur the handwriting from home.") In March, I received a letter from Mom, along with a clipping from the Tulsa World, the morning paper (still publishing), which I'd delivered in High School. The clipping stated that the FBI was looking for me as "a draft-dodger"! Mom's letter said that Dad had swung at a reporter over the matter.

While rereading the clipping, with trembling fingers, I was called to the Orderly Room. The Captain bellowed, "Hays, what the hell is this about? The Tulsa Draft Board has ordered me to sent you back to stand trial as a draft-doger." I explained the details, and stepped back in trepidation. The Captain exploded into laughter. "I thought so! That's been happening here and there." "Then you're not sending me back?" "Hell no! What that Board did is illegal and the courts will soon settle the matter. I'm writing the Board that you're in the Army now!"

Dad tried to get a correction from the paper. When this didn't work, I wrote them. Then the Captain wrote them. And the Chaplain, also. To no avail. (Apparently being a reporter or edistor means never having to say you're sorry!)

13 years later, when I returned to Tulsa to attend Dad's funeral, I met several people who were convinced that the FBI had caught me and that I'd spent the War Years in Leavenworth Penetentiary as a draft-dodger!