I firmly believed going to war was wrong and it was only years later that I discovered that our ancestors were pacifists, had emigrated twice to avoid military service.

The Draft Board turned down my request, sent a letter stating the date on which I was to report to Butte for another physical and induction. I’ve sometimes wondered what I would have done had my uncle not arrived for a visit. Driving to Canada and seeking asylum would have meant abandoning my family, and it would have meant a measure of self-reliance that for all my self-confidence was beyond me. Ignoring the letter and not reporting was more within my range of ability, in which case I could have been sent to jail. Being dutiful and obedient as I was, I suspect that after a one to one conversation with the police, I would have reversed my position and allowed myself to be drafted. I doubt I would have run into the wilderness. I had no experience with mountains and what a wilderness experience would have meant. All my friends were of the obedient sort as well, and would have offered no real alternatives. But I don’t know for sure what I would have done if I’d gotten to know some totally confident young man who was capable of standing by his convictions and who had a plan.

But my uncle was visiting when I returned to our country home from Missoula excited by news that I’d met a "draft resister" who was in need of a ride to Kalispell where he would meet a friend and cross the border into the safety of Canada. I liked meeting the real people, hearing their convictions being put into action, but I suspect, had my uncle not have intervened, I would have gone to Butte with my draft papers and allowed myself to be used by "the Army". I did not have the will or the imagination required to become a draft dodger. For all my outspoken conviction I remained a follower who did as he was told in the end. I likely would have given the young man a ride and simply returned home. I’ll never know for sure because Uncle Ernest did intervene.

When I went out to the car, it wouldn’t start. Uncle appeared in the doorway. "I took the distributor cap. You aren’t going anywhere. Come inside, let’s talk." We’d already talked… he was vetoing my curiosity, and my generosity. Barefoot I ran over rocks to the only safe place I knew – the river’s sandy beach. How far I walked and how long I was gone, I have no idea. A helicopter overhead alarmed me. Had my uncle sent Search and Rescue to find me? No! When I got home uncle was gone, but he’d made an appointment for me to see a psychiatrist. Did he know the psychiatrist would help me stay out of the military, or did he think the psychiatrist would convince me to join? I don’t know!