Back in the early 70’s we were in the middle of the Vietnam war. Many of us worried about being drafted. None of us worried about fertility assistance. But I guess we got it, instructions anyway.
President Nixon had instituted the lottery system for the draft. Many draftees were stationed at Ft. Campbell, Ky for basic training. One rainy afternoon it was too wet to continue with outdoor bayonet- thrust practice on straw dummies. We headed into a classroom to learn mouth-to-mouth, CPR, basic bandaging, and a bit more.
As a mix of draftees, enlisted soldiers, and National Guard members, expectations and enthusiasm was mixed. We went by our last names. Copenauer was 19, scrawny, uncoordinated, and stood out because of his trying. He had enlisted and was overly excited about anything. Whenever a Drill Seargent asked a question, Copenauer usually jumped to his feet, waved his hand, and yelled, “I know. I know.” Usually, he didn’t know. It wasn’t long before the Drill Sergeants learned not to pick him.
After three hours of practicing CPR, mouth-to-mouth, etc. All us trainees and even the Drill Sergeants were worn out. The rain had stopped, and we could go back outside. Before we could go, Drill Sergeant Collins, built like a 6’ 3” linebacker, said we had to answer a few questions. For each question, Copenauer did his jump and wave. Collins did a great job of avoiding eye contact with Copenauer until the last question.
“Ok,” Collins said. “You’re out in the field and you come across a fallen soldier. You check and he’s not breathing. What’s the first thing you do.”
Copenauer jumped up and down and shouted, “Me! ME!”
Collins let out a long sigh and looked up from the floor. He looked directly at Copenauer. We all held our breath.
“Copenauer,” Collins said.
“You’d give him artificial insemination!”
Through all the laughter, Collins calmly said, “Do think you’d have time?”