Pat's draft number was 12 and while I still don't get what that really means, he decided to take charge of his own future and joined the Air Force. (He told his mom over dinner that night: Oh by the way, I joined the AF, please pass the mashed potatoes.)
He ended up closing bases in Thailand and on one mission the helicopter he was in was shot down. That might explain why he doesn't like flying. We met when he was stationed in Germany and he decided that a military career was not for him (gosh, he had such a bad attitude at that time).
When we came to CA, he decided to join the AF Reserves and did his duty for many years. He retired with 27 years at Master Sargeant level. I'm proud of him.
On my German side, I know that Grandpa was enlisted. (He was supposed to join the SS but declined which was a gutsy thing to do.) He ended up driving ambulance in Italy and later in Russia. His anti-Hitler beliefs (and apparently trusting the wrong people) got him turned in and he was a prisoner in Dachau at the tail end of the war. I don't know the whole story (he never talked about it) but he managed to get escape when the Americans liberated the camp. I'm proud of him too.