I decided to pull away from Patrick, to avoid confrontation, and became good friends with a man in my unit, Craig. We went out and he took me to a whore house in the red-light district of Frankfurt. There my squad leader, and Craig, paid $50 for me to get laid. Because of my homosexuality though, it didn't happen. This was attempted a second time a few weeks later, with the same results.
Things seemed pretty good in our friendship with a few exceptions. Craig was straight and married. This did not stop my feelings for him though. I slowly, but surely, began to fall in love with him. He was everything I loved in men. This lasted for a few months. I slowly pushed my way closer to him. Then one week, Craig and I were supposed to have a bar-b-que at his house. I arrived on time and was told by a neighbor he was not at home. She said he was at the PX with his wife. His wife was working, so I decided to go there to meet with them. When I got there, he wasn't there. His wife told me he was at home, and had already started drinking. I went back there and realized he was avoiding me. This upset me so much. I returned back to the barracks and began drinking.
I consumed an entire bottle of Sambuka. I was so intoxicated I decided my life was too much for me to handle and began preparations to end it. I wrote a letter to Craig and a letter for my unit. I do not remember this personally. This information and the information to follow was told to me by a few other people who had contact with me during the events.
I spray painted "FTA" (Fuck the Army) and numerous other phrases on the hallway walls and on the walls in my room. I also wrote a complete confession of my love for Craig, on the mirror in my room. There, I expressed my sexual attraction to him. In an essence I "outed" myself. Just when I was about to kill myself, my squad leader walked in and stopped me. He called my commander and the chaplain. The only thing I remember is sitting with my squad leader, team leader, commander, and the chaplain. I explained everything to them and I remember my commander crying.
After about 30 minutes, my commander decided to send me to the Air Force Hospital. I was administered over 7 liters of fluids, to get the alcohol out of my system. I was also admitted into the Psychiatric Ward of the facility. I began to cry. I was escorted to the ward in a wheel chair. The nurse had to use a combination to open the doors. I thought my life and career were over. I spent 4 days in the facility undergoing treatment, therapy, and having to deal with the fact that things would not be the same. When I returned to the unit my First-Sergeant yelled at me and told me I was being transferred to the United States in a few weeks. I had to repaint the barracks for punishment. He told me if it weren't for the commander's help, he would have court-marshalled me. I was greatful for the commander's help and thanked him. He told me I was going to the US with a clean slate. I would not have to deal with this problem on my shoulders again.
