Two Roads Back Together, page 3
“Hooah!” the room roared back.
“So, why are you here this morning? I’m sure this is at the forefront of your minds, eh?”
Shy and others nodded, their stiff postures relaxing more and more.
“Last night, news broke regarding the possible repeal of the Don’t Ask Don’t Tell policy. Many of you were in grade school at the time, but in 1993, our military and civilian leaders looked at the impact of this policy. It is what we currently have in place and is still enforceable in the Uniformed Code of Military Justice. I stress that because I don’t want anyone to be confused or believe otherwise.
“If Don’t Ask Don’t Tell is repealed, it means that those who identify in this protected class would continue to serve without the fear of retribution. And for those who don’t identify in the protected class, it means you will continue to go to work and execute your duties. Theoretically, it should be business as usual.
“At the time when DADT was passed, everyone screamed that good soldiers would leave the Army in droves. And when the bill was signed… no one walked out. I suspect the same response will happen if the repeal passes both the House and Congress. Why? I believe it’s because we are a profession first. And as professionals, our force will still remain strong because of our devotion to the mission and our values.
“Some of you may be asking: Is this worth the risk? Is it worth the division in our Nation? The distractions within our beloved force? Why now, in the middle of war, eh? You are right – this is not the right time. It is clearly a distraction. Even I have pulled you away from your classroom schedule to talk about a change to policy that, if changed, will become effective immediately. We don’t know what is going to happen, nor can we affect it. But whether the old policy is upheld or upended, we are still professionals who carry out the duties of our leadership and execute them with vigor.
“So I ask again, why are we here?”
The commander took a pregnant pause, allowing everyone time to reflect. As Shy scanned the depths of the room, taking in the mixed emotions, they shifted their weight in discomfort. This was a pivotal moment. Not only for the Nation and Army they served, but for themselves. They were at a crossroads and their livelihood and quality of life were at stake. Could Shy still tolerate current policy if it remained in effect?
As Shy reflected, the commander, now standing far left of the lectern, asked another question. “What are we at risk of losing under a new policy, eh? Our faith? Our values? Or simply our comfort with leaving things, hard things, as they are? Is it vital to the mission to know if a soldier is gay or not? Do we need that knowledge to delineate between able Americans and determine who should serve and who shouldn’t? If Don’t Ask Don’t Tell is repealed, we may find ourselves quietly asking, ‘Who should fight alongside me and who shouldn’t? Whom do I trust and whom won’t I trust?’ These are biases we all have and we must question why we have them.
“Here’s another perspective: What do we have to gain? How does the repeal strengthen our force? What opportunities could be present if we push past the discomfort of change? Change is hard and unpopular. But we are not the first generation to face unpopular change. I would venture to say that those before us laid the bricks for us to learn from them. Is it possible that the repeal gives us something greater in value, as opposed to taking away something of value we already had?”
The commander pulled an index card from his blouse pocket and silently read the front before flipping it over. He turned and walked back to the platform in the front of the room, allowing the silence to simmer like a fresh pot roast, slowing the cadence of his talk. Shy admired how the commander maneuvered through the topic and silently took notes to apply in their classroom.
“Both perspectives have merit, but I’m asking you to push past the surface and seize the depth of the argument. How does this policy strengthen or weaken our military force against our adversaries? That is the question our leaders and commander in chief will decide. As a leader, I want you to understand the nuances of this policy, but I also caution you not to stray from your apolitical role as a soldier.
“We are a volunteer Army. Don’t forget that. We uphold the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic. This is what we are about: defending every American’s right of choice, including those Americans with whom we do not share values and social lifestyles. That’s my charge as your commander. To uphold my duty and oath to this Nation. To follow the orders of the commander in chief.”
The commander suddenly stopped speaking and placed the card back in his pocket. “We are going to do something different now.” He descended from the platform into the center aisle. “I was given slides to present this morning. But I decided that, rather than muscle through those, I want to talk openly with each of you. You are all thinking individuals and have your own independent views. I want to honor that.”
Shy felt the quiet hesitation in the room. Their eyes still planted on the commander as he now stood in the aisleway between students, haloed by the overhead lights, and looked down at his chest, at the black oak leaf cluster signifying the rank of Lieutenant Colonel. Suddenly, he tore off the rank, the rip of velcro slicing through the hall. Every eye, every heart, was captured in that moment. Shy barely took a breath.
The commander put the rank in his pocket. “I am a simple man. I put my pants on one leg at a time. I cry when I’m sad. And I’m obsessed with corgis.” A few chuckles echoed. “I want you to tell me how you really feel. What are your worries? What are you upset about? How do you think repealing this policy will affect you if it happens? We rarely get the chance to speak freely in the military, the chance to speak our minds and what is in our hearts. Tell me, what are your questions?”
A captain with four years of service quickly raised his hand. “I think they should be placed in a gay-only unit,” his Bostonian accent rang out. “It will be too uncomfortable to have gays serve openly and it’ll cost us our good order and discipline in the unit.”
“I see. Does anyone else feel the same way as Captain Murray?” The commander scanned the room while raising his hand. A few hands went up. “It’s okay to agree.” A few more raised their hands. The commander looked back at the captain. “I’m not going to sugarcoat my answers. I don’t think you want me to anyhow, eh?” The junior officers in the room murmured their agreement. “That’s a valid concern. It is. But look here. Sometimes we are afraid of what we do not understand. I think if you met someone who identified openly as gay, who was professional, and a good citizen in their community, and worked hard, and wanted a chance to get new opportunities, you might realize that person was not so strange.”
The captain looked down for a moment before replying. “Then I’m sure there are plenty of civilian jobs that would love to hire someone like that. I just feel that they don’t belong here, in the Army. Or maybe they serve, but just not in a combat arms unit. You know, the infantry or aviation, where you have to be close with your buddies. Sleeping and showering. It would make many uncomfortable. It makes me uncomfortable, sir.”
The commander placed a fatherly hand on the young trooper’s shoulder. “Captain Murray, you have a right to feel what you are feeling right now.” He paused, dropped his hand, and turned back to the center of the audience. “Eh, sometimes when we do not understand what is unfamiliar to us, it can feel uncomfortable. But as leaders, America’s leaders, we find that we must take the unpopular path into uncomfortable territory. That includes this moment we all are standing in today.”
Captain Murray sat down, satisfied with the answer, or maybe he felt he didn’t want to push it too far, Shy couldn’t tell. Five more hands shot up. The commander called on First Lieutenant Andrews, the short-statured brunette standing next to Shy, and the entire room twisted in their seats to face the back of the room.
Lieutenant Andrews possessed the mature confidence of someone well-established, despite only having served for four years. “Sir, my opinion is that if DADT is repealed and gays may openly serve, then I would have to leave the Army I love. Homosexuality is against my religion, sir. I should not have to accept or condone that lifestyle.”
Shy shifted and folded their arms. The rising anxiety and warmth boiled inside, pulling Shy back to their younger years when they first started struggling with their sexuality. They had fought through much of the commander's speech to keep their emotions at bay — almost. Dude, keep it together.
The commander made his way to the back wall. “Lieutenant Andrews, you know I love history. As the old elephant once told the baby elephant, ‘son, we’ve been here before.’ With that, I bring up the Women’s Armed Services Integration Act of 1948 that was signed by President Eisenhower and the Executive Order 9981: Integration of the Armed Forces signed by President Truman. To put it plainly, a military segregating troops by race was once widely accepted. As was the fact that women weren’t allowed to serve. Only a change to the law compelled our military to integrate its ranks and to accept women. The vile arguments and biased debate during those times were nearly identical to the outcry our Nation is experiencing today. Segregation, some would say, worked. Until it didn’t. African Americans and women saw that upward mobility in their careers was stifled by a color and gender ceiling, causing many to resign or retire very early in their working careers. Every last one of those soldiers loved their country and were willing to put their lives on the line to fight in the Nation’s uniform, even if they were treated poorly and relegated to second-class citizen status. DADT relegates gay people to second-class citizenship. It says, ‘you can sacrifice your time, your dreams, you can die for your country but we don’t want you to be visible.’”
He paused, considering. “I don’t have a good enough answer on how to square this with your faith. Religious beliefs are, by their nature, sacred. No one wants to be put in the position that they have to forsake or ignore what is most meaningful to them. I’m sure our senior military and civilian leadership are looking into that; after all, we have a huge chaplain corps that holds very specific and diverse views on those same concerns you have, Lieutenant Andrews. This is tough. But I ask you to not give up on our leadership or our Nation as they work to do the right thing. And allowing gay soldiers to serve openly is the right thing. It honors every born or naturalized American citizen’s individual rights and freedom of choice.”
The whispers around Shy spread feverishly into a pulsing wave across the room; the disrespect caught Shy off-guard. Little darts of distrust and disgust stabbed across Shy’s clammy skin, even as they struggled to decipher all the whispers. They’re talking about you. Too distracted, Shy missed the next question and answer, too focused on controlling the rising gush of heat. Why is he entertaining this? Shy, speak up… But just as quickly, the fear roared back, reversing that decision. Wait… you will become a target… they will know.
As Shy warred internally, others in the room stated their opinions:
“This is so wrong and against everything I believe,” one student uttered.
“So now gays get to shower and sleep in our quarters. Who’s protecting us from their advances?” another student chimed.
“Since when did we change the rules to placate to a small minority? What about the rest of us?” another voice asserted.
Dissenting voices seemed to reverberate loudest in that room. Before this moment, Shy had no idea some of their students and peers felt this way. Shy wanted desperately to speak out, but fear froze them again. The perspiration under their arms and along their back got worse. They stood, locked in place with arms still crossed at their chest, fuming. Shy focused on an imaginary point just below the podium in front of the room, eyes forward, ignoring, and expressionless. Their spirit had escaped.
Shy could see the moment the commander realized he was losing control. “Anyone else with a different opinion wants to speak?” He wrestled the conversation back, methodically scanned across the room, his eyes meeting and holding Shy’s.
Shy froze.
Then Captain Johnson raised her hand. “Yes, sir!”
The commander whipped around and walked over to her, gesturing for her to introduce herself.
“Captain Johnson, Class 10-11, sir. After listening intently to my peers and having a surface-level understanding of how the majority of Americans feel on the issue, I would like to share my position.” She stood, only slightly shorter than the commander.
“You’re pretty tall. I’m not used to my students looking at me at eye level,” he joked. The captain smiled as if she’d heard that line before. “Please, go ahead.”
“Sir, you raised two hypothetical questions at the start of the hour: What do we stand to lose, and what do we stand to gain with the repeal of DADT?”
“Yes, I did,” the commander said slowly.
“What do we stand to lose?” Captain Johnson asked. “We mostly stand to lose good order and discipline at the lowest levels in the short-term. The fact that we are at war only heightens the risk. It will take leadership to usher us safely through this bumpy patch.
“We also stand to lose respect and credibility amongst our allies on whether or not we truly exercise our own basic tenets and constitutional ideals: protection of personal freedoms, free speech, and human rights. The world, including our adversaries, is watching.
“Finally, we stand to lose who we are. We are a profession of integrity. We are standard bearers for the protection of every single American, regardless of religion, race, or creed. Don’t Ask Don’t Tell is a dishonest policy that begets dishonesty. The status quo which some argue to keep has already eroded one of our most revered values — integrity. Without integrity, we lose trust, the foundational glue of any unit. This is a hefty price we have paid thus far. But I believe not addressing the controversial issue of allowing gay Americans to serve openly will become costlier if we continue to ignore it.”
Shy was impressed. As she continued to speak with confidence, it was clear Captain Johnson was more experienced than her peers.
“So,” the captain continued, “what do we stand to gain? For starters, we gain a continued legacy of leading out front. We are a young Nation that has strived to do what is right and remarkably unpopular. In the past, we have attempted to right wrongs. This was evident, as you noted, sir, with the passing of the integration passage for women and Black Americans. The proposed DADT repeal is no different. It protects a vulnerable population and allows them the eligibility and choice to serve this Nation.
“With this new policy, we also stand to gain openness, rebuild trust, and attract more talent who want to serve and proudly uphold our values.” Captain Johnson turned to her peers. “Look at us. We represent the best and brightest. Many of us will leave here in a few months and ship off to the foothills of Afghanistan or the concrete cities of Iraq. I don’t know about you, but I want the best person, regardless of their gender or sexuality, to have my six. That’s what should matter: do we have each other’s backs? So when I think about it this way, we have much to gain and so little to lose.”
The captain took her seat, and the student behind her double-tapped her on the back. Another to her left gave her a dab and smiled. Captain Murray, also, reached over to give his approval. The room was quiet. Shy mentally applauded Johnson’s eloquently stated position.
The commander seemed equally fascinated with the student’s articulation and poise. “Well stated, Captain Johnson. You’ve clearly thought about the issue. Eh, is there anyone else who wants to speak?” When the room remained silent, he continued, “All right. That concludes today’s briefing. I appreciate you all trusting me to share your truest concerns. I want to remind you that we are still soldiers; we take our orders from our commander in chief and civilian leadership. That said, I will support each of you to the best of my ability.”
The XO handed the binder to the commander, who walked up the aisle to the exit. The XO then called out, “Attention!”
The packed room stood in unison, chairs sliding back loudly, as each individual straightened up, heels clasped, arms held in place at their sides. Not a sound made. No one out of order. As a single body, every soldier in the room stood at the position of attention.
“Carry on!” The commander’s voice as he whisked out the door gave them the freedom to move, to think, to feel like an individual again. Intense chatter, some measured and some in near-revolt broke out. With the commander gone, the tension was not as sharp as it had been, but it still lingered.
Shy bailed for the door. Breathe. Hold it together, Shy! Everyone was still in the classroom so the hallway was dead. Shy faced the second-story window, stared into the eternal point of the overcast sky’s horizon. A picturesque field of cedar trees stretched and filled the foreground, interspersed with the occasional brown, flat roof-top and brick five-story buildings. The tree-lined view made Shy happy, a temporary reprieve, allowing them to be free in the moment. Shy’s mind shifted from first to fourth gear. The short, labored breaths and feeling of dwindling control bubbled more. You don’t belong here, Shy. Wait until they find out you aren’t who you say you are.
“Captain Cole?” That lyrical voice broke through Shy’s thoughts. “Cole?”
Shy turned to see an attractive officer approaching them – their supervisor, Major Rihannon Weston. Shy had first met then-Captain Weston, two years ago, at a major training exercise and immediately developed a crush. Even though they were now assigned to the same unit, they moved in different circles; Shy didn’t really know much about Major Reston outside of work. Shy didn’t know if it was Rihannon’s mixed heritage, her slender frame, her brown almond eyes, or that crazy competitive spirit to outrun or outsmart her opponents that made her most attractive. But no matter how much Shy was tempted to ask Rihannon out on a date, they never gave in.
“That was brutal back there, huh?” Rihannon came and stood beside Shy. Shy could smell the soft scent of Rihannon’s perfume that made the small of their back tingle. As Rihannon barely touched Shy’s sleeve, Shy faced the gray clouds and resisted the urge to lean closer to her.
