LITMIR.BIZ

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saying I was going to be discharged for being a homosexual. I was not dealing with that too well because if I had stayed in the Air Force, my lifelong dream was to be a cop. In the early ’70s you could forget about being a cop if you were discharged from the military for being gay.

      I would have been relieved of all my duties, and I should have been assigned to the goon squad—the drug addicts, the disciplinary problems—and what they did was spend all day cleaning the barracks. The commanding officer of my squadron found out about it and transferred me to his office for the remainder of the investigation. I had an envelope come in for the captain and I opened it; it was from OSI. It was a confidential report to the commanding officer on Billy Martin, who had been arrested downtown for exposing himself to an eighty-nine-year-old woman. And this was the correct Billy Martin. Here I am, knowing that my accuser has been arrested by the civilian police. I put it back in the envelope, sealed it up, and took it in. It didn’t fool the captain; he knew that I had seen it and he just smiled at me.

      During the investigation, they searched my off-base quarters. They went through the freezer, they went through everything and found nothing. We forced the Air Force to prove what they were saying. I knew there could be no proof; they didn’t even have the right Billy Martin to start with. I went in there with my attorney; the judge advocate general turned the file over to him and my attorney reviewed the entire file; he handed it back and said, “We demand a court martial,” and the judge advocate general said, “I don’t blame you, it’s the weakest case I’ve ever seen for accusing somebody for being gay.” The next day the case was dropped. I was the first airman on that base to beat an active investigation for being gay. I was restored to duty, given my security clearances back, my weapons cards.

      My CO [commanding officer] came to me and said, “I feel the Air Force owes you something. You can have your pick of any base in the world you want to go to and I’ll make sure it’s done.” As a matter of fact, my CO wrote a letter of recommendation to my next CO, which just wasn’t done in the military. I chose England and was sent to RAF Woodbridge, which was a fighter base with nukes, and once again served in base police. That’s where things began to change for me personally.

      I arrived on assignment and developed a pilonidal cyst. It’s very painful and you have to have an operation to get rid of the damn thing. I had a male nurse. Once I started to get better, he said, “You’re getting pretty good, you can get around. Do you want to come over to the barracks tonight; we’ll have a beer or something.” I said, “Sure. It’d be good to get out of here.” I got into the room with him and we were talking and one thing led to another. I remember I put my head on his chest, and he said, “You know, Bruce, all you really need is somebody to love.” And that is what really struck me. It was the catalyst. I knew that he was right; I did need that. And I wasn’t going to be able to find it in the Air Force because of the anti-gay policy.

      So when I returned to duty after about a month, I went to the major and told him I was bisexual. That was my only cop-out. I said I was bi because I figured it would be easier for them to deal with. He said, “I know.” And I said, “Well, you know I was also under investigation on my last base.” He said, “I know. I want you to turn around and walk out of here and believe that this conversation never happened.” He did not want me to leave the Air Force; he did not want me to leave the squadron. But I insisted on it, and once I insisted on it, he had no choice but to go ahead and start the process.

      It was the procedure to code the reason the person was being discharged, and an employer would have a list of the codes and see what you were being discharged for. That had been the procedure up until April 19, 1974. On that day, I had gotten a call from my friend on Capitol Hill: “It’s now in effect as of 12:00 today, make your move.” And that’s when I called the major and said let’s do it today. I basically chose the day of my discharge. I was getting a lot of shit from one of the clerks in the area that processes it, and his sergeant turned around and reamed him and said, “You don’t say a word to this man about anything to do with his personal life, you just process the paperwork and shut up.”

      And so, in April of 1974 I left the Air Force. I became the first one to go out honorably without the code. I can’t say that I was disrespected in any way.

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      VONDA TODD, AUSTIN, TX, 2012

      SECOND LIEUTENANT, SOUTH CAROLINA NATIONAL GUARD, 1983–1988

      MAJOR, U.S. ARMY RESERVE, 1998–2012

      Quartermaster, Fort Sam Houston, Texas. Retired

      MARY HARRIS, AUSTIN, TX, 2012

      MAJOR, U.S. ARMY, 1982–1987, AND U.S. ARMY RESERVE, 1988–2002

      Adjutant Generals Corps, Fort Sam Houston, Texas. Retired

      Both came under scrutiny and underwent questioning in an investigation based on their health insurance beneficiary forms and shared home address

      VONDA: I was born in 1965 and grew up in Easley, South Carolina. I graduated high school in 1983. I began to realize I had feelings for females probably when I was in the ninth grade and actually had a girlfriend through high school. I joined the National Guard when I was a senior. I remember having to fill out paperwork and that question being on there. “Are you gay?” I said no. I wanted to join the military and planned to have a career in the military. If I wanted that to happen, it’s what I needed to do. Was it right? Probably not, but I had a goal in mind.

      We were a religious family. When I realized that I had feelings for females, my mom was the first who knew. She loved me. She supported me. But we didn’t talk about it. I had moved away from home and my dad was diagnosed with cancer. He asked me to come home. He said, “I don’t care about what you’re doing. It doesn’t matter.” It was real vague. So, that was his way of saying I just want you to come home.

      MARY: My father was career military, a mess hall sergeant. My parents were raised in the South during segregation. As soon as they could get up north they did. I was born on Fort Dix, New Jersey, in 1960 and raised there, the youngest of seven kids. We went to Okinawa for a couple years—I was about five—and then we went back to Fort Dix.

      I went off to the University of Dayton and joined ROTC the beginning of my junior year. At the time I wasn’t gay, or didn’t think I was. So, it was easy for me to answer that question. I answered it truthfully at the time. I was commissioned when I graduated. During my Officer Basic Course, I came out. I was pretty young when this happened. I met a woman that I was very attracted to; she was ten years older than me. I had a boyfriend and I broke up with him. I wrestled with the changes that were going on in my life after I had this short relationship with a woman, but I didn’t have any issues with juggling my homosexuality in the military. Things just fell into place for me. It didn’t get difficult till I met Vonda.

      I lived in Augusta, Georgia. And Vonda lived in Aiken, South Carolina, right across the river. We were both invited to dinner with this mutual friend of ours. I had gotten there early and got up to go to the restroom. Vonda and her partner were walking in and I walked right past Vonda. I got back to the table and she was sitting there with her partner. My friend introduced us. Vonda had just finished college and was looking for a job. I was talking to her about where I worked. A few days later, we started talking. One thing led to another over the course of a few months.

      VONDA: That was our “wow” moment. It was hard because I was in a relationship. The worst part about that was I hurt her really bad. She didn’t deserve it. She didn’t do anything. It’s just where my heart was.

      MARY: We started dating in July of ’07. I was a major working for a company and I put in for a job. I found a command in a public affairs broadcasting unit in the Reserves. I remember asking her, “If I get this job, would you move to Texas with me?” Neither of us knew anything about Austin. And Vonda had never lived out of South Carolina. Vonda’s very religious. Sunday mornings we’d have donuts at Krispy Kreme and then go our separate ways. Vonda would go to church and I would do the laundry. She was looking at me and crying and said,

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