I departed for the Army on November 6, 1990. I was heading for a new life at Fort McClellan, AL.
I thought I could fight my homosexuality by joining the military and getting "tougher." I still found myself looking at the men in my unit. I started to get deep feelings towards my "Battle Buddy." I didn't think that these feelings were possible though and fought them. I didn't think men could feel this way about other men. So, I secluded myself as much as possible.
In May 1991 I made what I thought was a big mistake. I let my feelings go astray and made friends with a few people. One of them became my close and best friend. His name was Patrick. I immediately became attracted to Patrick, physically and emotionally. The attraction became so deep that other men in my unit began making fun of me and telling Patrick I was gay, and liked him. He told them they were crazy and we stayed friends.
I deployed to Guantanamo Bay, Cuba, in November of 1991 for "Operation Gitmo." There we kept a watchful eye on the Haitian migrants that were fleeing Port-Au-Prince, Haiti from the military dictatorship of General Raul Cedras. His forces exiled the elected President Jean Betrand Aristide. All of Aristide's followers were being executed in the streets. We were the buffer zone for the United States. The migrants figured they would sail to Miami and be given Political Assylum. They were wrong. We sent them back to Port-Au-Prince, Haiti, if they didn't have a warrant for their arrest in the United States. A lot returned a few weeks and months later, and some, who were killed, never returned.
In March 1992, Patrick was transferred to Hanau, Germany. My heart was broken. I didn't know what to do. I cried for weeks. I talked to Patrick on the phone at least once a week. I missed him so much. Then in April my unit was deployed to Panama City, Panama and things changed a little.
I met another man named Mark. Mark and I became good friends and went drinking together. I began falling in love with Mark also. This was strange. I found myself, when we were both drunk, playing with Mark, in a sexual manner. Mark was either asleep or passed out. I stopped myself and began to fear that something was going to happen to me. I didn't want to be another statistic in the military. The military's policy toward homosexuals was to imprison them for committing acts of sodomy. I decided to transfer before that happened.
In November 1992, I was transferred to Wiesbaden, Germany. I had still been talking to Patrick and was afraid of his knowing of my homosexuality. I didn't want to lose any friends. Especially since I didn't know how he would react. I was new to Germany and didn't have any friends. I started getting involved more with Patrick and we became closer by the day. I converted to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, because that was the church Patrick belonged to. I found myself falling deeper in love with him.
I made another friend named Roland about this time. He was obviously attracted to me, but I didn't feel the same attraction. We belonged to the same church group. Later that year Roland decided to tell me and the others in our group that he was gay. He was excommunicated from the church. I was so afraid now. I didn't want all these suppressed feelings coming out at this time. I was a cop in the military and didn't want to get myself into any trouble. I decided not to talk to him again in feer of my being "dragged out of the closet."
This fear did not last long though. Patrick and I began doing alot of things together and we slept together, in the same bed, when we were away from our barracks. We did not have any sexual contact, but the emotions were strong. I thought Patrick and felt the same way I did. I was in love with him. We took a trip to Paris, France for a weekend in the spring of 1994. We drove down from Frankfurt, Germany. When we got there, we got a hotel room, which had two beds, connected to make one.
We toured the city and ended up in a bar. There we proceeded to get intoxicated and the emotions were flying. We ended up in the bathroom watching each other pee. We were having fun and messing around with each other. After a few hours, we went back to the hotel. I had to assist Patrick to the room because he couldn't hold himself up. When we got there, I undressed him and myself and got into bed. We fell asleep for a while, and I awoke to Patrick's hand being on mine and our legs crossed. I became tied up in my emotions and began to caress him. Not receiving any signs of rejection I began to fondle him. This went on for about 10 minutes before Patrick moved my hand off him. I became extremely scared and turned over.
We woke up in the morning and went to breakfast. Patrick seemed to have not remembered anything. We continued touring the city for the remainder of the day. Later that evening we went to a bar and started a repeat of the evening before. Patrick was stumbling when we left, so I placed my arm over his shoulder to assist. Patrick pulled away and said, "What are you, gay?" I said no, and became offended. I asked him here he got that idea from and he explained that he remembered what had happened the night before. I was devastated. I couldn't believe he remembered. I thought my life was over. He would tell someone and I would be placed in jail, and my career was over. I told him I was drunk and didn't remember any of what happened that night. After a few minutes he was back to normal. I, however, was not.
We drove back to our bases on the next day. The whole day, we barely talked. I was in fear of what might happen when we return. Who would he tell? Things seemed really dreary. But, to my astonishment, things were as if nothing ever happened. Patrick and I continued to do things together, and we didn't ever mention what happened in Paris again.
