Review by Roy Boyd
Rick Parker’s Drafted takes place during the USA’s disastrous 1960s war in Vietnam, so one would probably assume it’s a tale of brave men and jungle warfare, perhaps in the mould of Platoon, The Deer Hunter, or even Rambo. But no, you’ll have to reset your expectations more to Neil Simon’s Biloxi Blues by way of Harvey Pekar’s American Splendor. Instead of steamy jungle action, we experience the horrors of basic training, exercises, and even more training, all through the eyes of a younger Rick Parker, who could almost be the dictionary definition of a callow youth.
In spite of never getting anywhere near an actual battle, our protagonist soon realises he’s not cut out for life as a soldier. Had he experienced combat, it’s unlikely this book would ever have seen the light of day, and as it is, he barely survives training. Amongst Parker’s other failings, he has a habit of freezing like a rabbit trapped in car headlights whenever he’s startled. Not, one would assume, an ideal trait for a soldier. Certainly not when live ammunition is involved.
Dealing fairly speedily with his family background and time at school and junior college, Drafted soon arrives at the three years and-then-some Parker spent in the army. Some of his trials and tribulations revolve around his clumsy first experiences of the opposite sex, and some, in spite of the fact he never got near a warzone, involve (often horrific) deaths.
No war tale worth its salt would be complete without a gruesome fact or story to drive home just how dehumanising war can be, and Drafted features a couple of zingers. One in particular, involving an auto accident and what we’ll diplomatically call a serious head injury, is likely to stick in your mind like a fish hook, lingering long after you’ve put the book down. There are also truly heart-breaking moments, handled adroitly by Parker. He’s a refreshingly honest – and often amusing – narrator, portraying himself as a shy, unworldly and sometimes stuffy, yet nevertheless likeable in his lack of guile.
Parker’s artwork was drawn decades ago, at the time of the events he’s recounting, but coloured later and, one assumes, using digital tools. The art is most definitely in the underground style, but not the polished Robert Crumb or Daniel Clowes end of the spectrum. There are some seriously nice pages and panels, but much of the book is executed with a clumsiness that, rather than detracting from the story, gives an air of authenticity that might be lacking from a more polished effort. Also, it must be said that the style of the artwork quickly becomes irrelevant as the story – sobering, informative and always entertaining – sweeps the reader along.
If this is Parker’s magnum opus – and his age would suggest it probably is – then he can rest easy in the knowledge that he’s done a good job. In a genre stuffed with tales celebrating warfare and those who wage it, this sobering and sensitive book provides a counterpoint that’s perhaps even more relevant now than it was during his time in Uncle Sam’s army.
