From an 18-year-old Brooklyn College freshman’s diary:

Friday, January 9, 1970

I got up at five, and Dad drove me to Fort Hamilton in the four-degree darkness. First about 150 of us were seated in an orientation room, the roll was called & we went through an hour mental test. After an hour filling out endless forms in quadruplicate, the actual physical began. It was just like Alice’s Restaurant: I was “inspected, injected, rejected.” I took off everything but my shoes & shorts & waited on endless benches to have everything checked: my vision, hearing, blood pressure, urine, blood tests, height (5’4″), weight (130!) & everything else. Finally at about one, I was allowed to get dressed & presented my doctors’ letters to the guy at stop #11. (All the soldiers were expectedly gruff, especially a sergeant who looked like Flip Wilson.) He classified me i-Y, said I would be rejected for a year, and said I could go home. I called Dad & he picked me up. A quick late lunch, and then I was off to school. The French final was pleasant & not hard. Exams may make some people nervous, but the mental working relaxes me. It’s difficult to believe that there are no more classes this term – I’m going to miss some of my friends, but hopefully I’ll be seeing them in the future. I’m going to take this weekend off to relax, & then I’ll study next week. The family went out to eat, but I was so exhausted I just had a hamburger at home. Tonight it’s supposed to get even colder – it’s going to be in the 40’s in Miami.

Read more about Richard Grayson’s draft physical at Dumbo Books.