Stories from the Frontlines: Letter to a G.I.

Stories from the Frontlines: Letters to President Barack Obama was launched to fight to repeal “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT). With the House and Senate votes, we’re bringing the series to a close – for now.

The final letter in this series that will be sent to President Obama was written by a World War II soldier to another on the occasion of their anniversary. It is a love letter. It was published in September 1961 by ONE Magazine – an early gay magazine based out of Los Angeles. In 2000, Bob Connelly -- an adjunct professor of LGBT studies at American University –- found a copy of the letter in the Library of Congress and it is reprinted below (get some tissues ready, 'cause it's a tearjerker):

Dear Dave,

This is in memory of an anniversary – the anniversary of October 27th, 1943, when I first heard you singing in North Africa. That song brings memories of the happiest times I’ve ever known. Memories of a GI show troop – curtains made from barrage balloons – spotlights made from cocoa cans – rehearsals that ran late into the evenings – and a handsome boy with a wonderful tenor voice. Opening night at a theatre in Canastel – perhaps a bit too much muscatel, and someone who understood. Exciting days playing in the beautiful and stately Municipal Opera House in Oran – a misunderstanding – an understanding in the wings just before opening chorus.

Drinks at “Coq d’or” – dinner at the “Auberge” – a ring and promise given. The show 1st Armoured – muscatel, scotch, wine – someone who had to be carried from the truck and put to bed in his tent. A night of pouring rain and two very soaked GIs beneath a solitary tree on an African plain. A borrowed French convertible – a warm sulphur spring, the cool Mediterranean, and a picnic of “rations” and hot cokes. Two lieutenants who were smart enough to know the score, but not smart enough to realize that we wanted to be alone. A screwball piano player – competition – miserable days and lonely nights. The cold, windy night we crawled through the window of a GI theatre and fell asleep on a cot backstage, locked in each other’s arms – the shock when we awoke and realized that miraculously we hadn’t been discovered. A fast drive to a cliff above the sea – pictures taken, and a stop amid the purple grapes and cool leaves of a vineyard.

The happiness when told we were going home – and the misery when we learned that we would not be going together. Fond goodbyes on a secluded beach beneath the star-studded velvet of an African night, and the tears that would not be stopped as I stood atop the sea-wall and watched your convoy disappear over the horizon.

We vowed we’d be together again “back home,” but fate knew better – you never got there. And so, Dave, I hope that where ever you are these memories are as precious to you as they are to me.

Goodnight, sleep well my love.

Brian Keith

*Reprinted with permission of ONE National Gay & Lesbian Archives, www.onearchives.org, ONE Magazine, September 1961

Stories from the Frontlines: Corporal Juan C. Perezortiz

Stories from the Frontlines: Letters to President Barack Obama is a media campaign launched to fight to repeal “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT) . Every weekday morning until Friday, May 28, as we approach the markup of the Defense Authorization bill in the Senate, SLDN and a coalition of voices supporting repeal, will share an open letter to the President from a person impacted by this discriminatory law.

Today's letter is from former Corporal Juan C. Perezortiz:

Dear Mr. President,

As an 18-year-old, first generation immigrant from Mexico and a newly sworn in American citizen, military service seemed the best way to repay my fellow citizens for giving my family and me a shot at a better life.

I enlisted in the Marine Corps as an Aircraft Ordnance Man. USMC Boot Camp was physically and mentally challenging, but it didn’t compare to the persecution I would encounter later in the Marines.

As a new PFC in an Aircraft Ordnance (AO) Shop in California, I developed a reputation for being a hard worker, always looking for extra duties and opportunities to expand my skills. As a result, my work ethic and excellent evaluations, I was promoted to an E3, a lance corporal. These were my best days in the military. Unfortunately, they were short numbered. With the arrival of a new gunnery sergeant, my career in the Marines soon became a struggle to survive.

The gunnery sergeant enjoyed socializing with the junior Marines in the shop, frequently taking them out drinking and to the strip clubs. I was expected to participate. I tried to be a team player so I would not be singled out. The shop soon became the squadron’s “frat pad.” Most conversation revolved around girls and hookups, often described by my comrades as “bitches and hoes.”

This behavior, beyond being tolerated, was often sponsored and enjoyed by my superiors. “Gunny” usually joined in, bragging about cheating on his wife. This environment was repulsive and contradictory to the core values of the Marine Corps: honor, courage, commitment — values I tried to live by. I was miserable, but felt powerless to do anything about it.

I still went out drinking with the guys, but tried to avoid going to strip bars or swapping stories about sexual experiences. But then Gunny became suspicious. He told me he suspected I was a “faggot” and that we should see what the rest of the guys thought about it.

Everything changed that day. My evaluation scores began to drop dramatically — from the 4.9 out of 5 average I had for three years to a 1.0. After obtaining copies of my evaluations, I learned that my direct supervisors’ scores had been crossed out and lowered by the gunnery sergeant. I had never failed at anything in life before and I was not going to let anyone tell me I was not a good Marine.

My only way out, I believed, was to transfer out of my unit. At first my requests were repeatedly denied. Eventually though, after numerous letters of recommendations from other military officers, I was transferred.

I was promoted and, when I left my new unit, I had numerous letters of recommendation. The detachment’s commanding officer wrote accolades such as, “You are a Marine with exceptional core values… a great asset to the Armed Services” and “You are a Marine of great caliber and will go far in your military career.”

Unfortunately, I was required to return to my former training squadron just months before my six year contract was up. I was back under Gunny’s command. Those last few months were a living nightmare. I constantly dreaded going to work and was afraid for my physical safety.

With the support of friends, I managed to serve eight years. I love the Marines and, under different command circumstances, I would have continued my service. In three weeks, I’ll graduate from the University of California, San Diego with a degree in structural engineering. With the your help and with open service in place at the Pentagon, I’d signup and serve my country again.

Mr. President, thank you for supporting repeal of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” I hope that, with your leadership, no other service member will have to go through the persecution I endured in order to serve our country.

Respectfully,
Former Corporal Juan C. Perezortiz
United States Marine Corps

Stories from the Frontlines: An anonymous Marine

Stories from the Frontlines: Letters to President Barack Obama is a media campaign launched to fight to repeal “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT). Every weekday morning as we approach the markup of the Defense Authorization bill in the Senate and House Armed Services Committees, SLDN and a coalition of voices supporting repeal, will share an open letter to the President from a person impacted by this discriminatory law.

Today's letter is from an anonymous Marine:

Dear Mr. President,

On November 4, 2008, I spent the evening at the Democratic Headquarters of a small town. I watched anxiously as election results poured in from across the nation, nervous and hopeful that enough Americans had believed in the change you promised to bring.

Then it happened. The broadcaster announced that the network was declaring you the winner; the tears welled up in my eyes. Cheers erupted and I turned to hug the person standing closest to me, as we all did.

Balloons and confetti flew, and photographers began snapping pictures. One aimed his camera at me and I turned away. After another attempt, he asked if he could take my picture. I said no. I couldn't risk having my photo appear in a newspaper because I am a Marine, and the person in my arms was my boyfriend.

We had met nearly three years earlier while I was in Marine officer training. He was working in a clothing store near a bar I went to on the weekends. I wanted a reason to stay and talk to him, so I bought a pair of shoes I did not need. We went on our first date the next weekend, and the rest was history. I was later stationed across the country and we flew cross-country to see each other. When I found out I was being deployed, he came with my family to see me off.

It was my first deployment, and I had no idea what to expect. It is a strange feeling to say goodbye to someone you know you might never see again. When have you hugged enough? How do you know when to let go? How many times do you tell them you love them? How do you convince them everything will be fine when you are not sure it will be?

I looked at my mom and dad, my sister and nephews, and my boyfriend, trying to burn their images into my mind so I would not forget them.

As I looked around the parade deck and saw my fellow Marines kissing their wives and girlfriends goodbye, I felt crushed. I could not kiss my boyfriend of two years goodbye. Worse, he was afraid to even stand too close to me for fear of anyone getting the wrong idea. I was willing to risk it out of my love for him, but he – like the rest of my family – feared being responsible for doing or saying anything that could have jeopardized my career.

Several years earlier, sitting in a Marine recruiting office, my recruiter asked me if I was gay. He had been trying to explain DADT to me and was frustrated by how long it was taking. He said it only mattered if I was gay, so he asked. It was the first time I was confronted with DADT, but it would not be the last.

When you ask a straight Marine if he is gay, he says no without hesitation. When you ask a gay Marine, he either lies or cites DADT and declines to answer. You can sacrifice your integrity or invite suspicion.

When I returned from Iraq, I had trouble adjusting to being home. Like many of my fellow Marines, I had trouble reconnecting to my friends and family. I did not know how to relate to my boyfriend. I had trouble being intimate, trouble sleeping, trouble expressing my feelings. Our relationship suffered.

I became depressed, and we grew apart. I could not seek counseling because my relationship with him was against the law. Talking to a counselor about my relationship would have resulted in my own discharge. I suffered alone and in silence.

When he finally left me, I was devastated. My other half – my partner through school, transfer, and deployment – was gone. After four years he had grown tired of living with the shades closed in the apartment, afraid that neighbors would see us sitting beside each other on the couch. My work suffered and my colleagues noticed a difference in me, yet I had no choice but to lie and cover it up, insisting that I was fine.

Every day, gay and lesbian service members suffer and our loved ones suffer. We are forced to lie to our brothers-in-arms and our units suffer. We lie about our relationships, and our families lie to protect us.

The law renders us second-class citizens by prohibiting us from having or forming relationships – the same type of relationships our straight counterparts form that are hailed as vital to the health and success of our Armed Forces.

While they have family housing, family counseling, family readiness officers, and key volunteers, we serve alone. We are denied access to services and support created specifically to help us with family issues and stress – much of which results from the very policy that prohibits us from seeking help in the first place.

The sacrifices gay and lesbian families make just to get through each day are more than most people can even fathom, and we do it in silence. I live every day with the knowledge that I could be fired simply for being honest about who I am. I lie about my loved ones and myself in order to survive.

Still, my sense of duty and patriotism drive me to serve despite the restrictions this law imposes on my family and me.

Please, Mr. President, work with Congress to end this discriminatory law.

Let me serve honestly, openly, and with integrity.

Semper Fidelis,
A U.S. Marine
(The writer is currently serving and unable to identify himself publicly.)

Stories from the Frontlines: Cadet Sara Isaacson

Stories from the Frontlines: Letters to President Barack Obama is a media campaign launched to fight to repeal “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT). Every weekday morning as we approach the markup of the Defense Authorization bill in the Senate and House Armed Services Committees, SLDN and a coalition of voices supporting repeal, will share an open letter to the President from a person impacted by this discriminatory law.

Today's letter is from Former Cadet Sara Isaacson:

Dear Mr. President,

Two Saturdays ago – that’s the day I was looking forward to for four years. May 8, 2010: Commissioning Day.

My parents should have pinned on my rank of Second Lieutenant. I was prepared to take the oath. To swear that I’d support and defend our constitution. But instead, I am writing a letter to you. There was no pinning. There was only the sudden reality that “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” still very much exists and is still very much enforced.

I wish that I could tell you stories about my distinguished military career, deployments, and awards. I cannot share such stories. This past January with you as my Commander-in-Chief, the opportunity to prove my merit as an Army Officer was taken away simply because I’m a lesbian.

Inspired by my grandfather’s service, I made it my goal when I was 13-years-old to spend a career as an Army doctor. This dream was a driving force for me throughout high school and helped me to be accepted at the University of North Carolina-Chapel Hill with a 4-year Army ROTC scholarship.

Being a Cadet has been an integral part of my identity since the first day I stepped foot on campus. I worked hard to be the best Cadet I could, and felt an obligation to my future soldiers to be a great officer. I was one of the most committed and dedicated members of my battalion. My efforts were rewarded with an “Excellent” rating this summer at the Leader Development and Assessment Camp, placing me in the top 3 Cadets in my platoon and top 20% of the nearly 5,500 Cadets who passed through Ft. Lewis.

I had the opportunity to spend three weeks at an internship at Walter Reed Army Medical Center, where I decided that I wanted to see what life was like in the active duty Army before attending medical school. Instead of immediately pursuing my medical degree, I was fortunate to receive my first choice active duty placement working in the Air Defense Artillery.

My service to my country has centered on the Army core values: Loyalty, Duty, Respect, Selfless Service, Honor, Integrity, and Personal Courage. My training has instilled these values in me, and I hold them in the highest regard. No one can take them away from me, and without them, I have nothing to fall back on.

In November of last year, I accepted that I’m a lesbian. It was the values of Honor and Integrity that forced me to come out to my Commander. I agonized wondering if I could go through my career lying about who I am, living in fear of being outed, and putting up emotional walls between me and my soldiers—the very people I must trust with my life and who would need to trust me with theirs.

As much as I longed to be an officer, I realized I was not willing to compromise my Integrity to do so.

Mr. President, I tell you this not looking for sympathy but rather to plead with you to do everything possible to end this arcane, discriminatory law. It hurts our military every day to force our men and women in uniform to lie or else face discharge.

You gave me hope that I might be able to serve honestly and openly in your State of the Union Address. If you repeal this law today, I’ll sign up to serve my country tomorrow.

Please do the right thing. Do not let any more service members be fired for being honest about who they are. Please work with Congress and the Pentagon to repeal “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” this year.

Mr. President, we can’t wait any longer.

Very Respectfully,
Former Cadet Sara Isaacson
United States Army

Stories from the Frontlines: Sergeant Darren Manzella

Stories from the Frontlines: Letters to President Barack Obama is a media campaign launched to fight to repeal “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT). Every weekday morning as we approach the markup of the Defense Authorization bill in the Senate and House Armed Services Committees, SLDN and a coalition of voices supporting repeal, will share an open letter to the President from a person impacted by this discriminatory law.

Today's letter is from Former Sergeant Darren Manzella:

Dear Mr. President,

It was spring 2004. I had just arrived in Baghdad. We’d been there all but four days. Then it happened. It was an ambush. It ended with my good friend shot dead. I was overwhelmed by emotions of anger and sadness, but also confusion.

At that moment, my perspective on life changed; I wondered, what if I had been killed in action and had never come to terms with who I truly was and, even worse, never had the chance to share it with my loved ones? There comes a point when acceptance is your only salvation—my return from Iraq was my moment.

I served two tours of duty in the Middle East in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom as a Soldier in the United States Army. I was promoted to sergeant, was a team leader of a medical squad, and conducted over 100 12-hour patrols in the streets of Baghdad, treating wounds and evacuating casualties of sniper fire and roadside bombs. I applied for Officer Candidate School under the recommendation of two generals in my chain of command. But, today, instead of protecting my fellow Americans, I sit working in a university development office because I was discharged under “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT).

When I came out, the first people I told were comrades, with whom I had just spent 12 months in Baghdad. To be honest, I was scared of their rejection more than the mortar and rocket attacks, ambushes, or roadside explosives. But, they showed immense understanding of what I had been going through and offered unconditional support. The response from my brothers and sisters in arms proved that the military is a family—no matter if you are man, woman, black, white, transgender, gay, or straight. What truly matters is whether you can trust the person next to you. And how can trust be built around a lie?

One day, I received an email from a Soldier I had never met; it said I was being investigated under DADT and that I would be stripped of my rank and pay and eventually discharged. I tried to ignore it, but the emails continued and became more derogatory. Soon, I began receiving similar phone calls at work.

Unsure of who to trust, on edge every second, and losing more and more sleep each night, I approached my supervisor. I was a Soldier who lived by all seven of the Army values, including honesty. I refused to have someone else end my career. He offered a sympathetic ear before reporting me to the legal department.

After an investigation into my statements and the harassment, I was told I was an exceptional Soldier and to “drive on” with my work. It was a great a relief to break the silence. My colleagues suddenly understood why I had always been so detached and began asking me to join them in activities outside of work.

Later that year my division deployed again and I served the entirety of the deployment as an openly gay Soldier. I no longer had to lie if someone asked if I were married or had a girlfriend, I didn’t have to write my emails in “code.” I no longer feared being “outed.” I finally was able to be honest.

After arriving in Iraq for the second deployment I was promoted once again and served my division as the medical liaison officer in Kuwait. It was there that I participated in an interview with Leslie Stahl for 60 Minutes with the focus being on a out gay Soldier working in a combat zone.

I gave voice to the tens of thousands of men and women who serve everyday under the fear of DADT. The interview also ended my career. I was honorably discharged on June 10, 2008.

While I sit in a safe and comfortable civilian office, former comrades and friends continue to serve, leaving their families for a third, fourth, or even fifth deployment. Why am I not able to stand in the place of my battle buddy who has left his wife three times to deploy and missed the birth of his new born child? Why are exceptions being made to enlist individuals with subpar mental and physical standards? And why are serious convicted felons granted waivers to serve while I was pushed out the door?

Mr. President, last year you restored my hope that this discriminatory law will be repealed, but I must admit that my spirit has been shaken because DADT still exists. Every day, we lose dedicated and capable service members while other Marines, Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Coastguardsmen sacrifice more than their share. My experience demonstrates what matters most is competence, trust and ability. Why then should we wait another year or another decade to do what is right?

Sincerely,
Former Sergeant Darren Manzella
United States Army

Stories from the Frontlines: An anonymous mother

Stories from the Frontlines: Letters to President Barack Obama is a media campaign launched to fight to repeal “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT). Every weekday morning as we approach the markup of the Defense Authorization bill in the Senate and House Armed Services Committees, SLDN and a coalition of voices supporting repeal, will share an open letter to the President from a person impacted by this discriminatory law.

Today's letter is from the mother of a gay son in the military:

Dear Mr. President and First Lady Obama,

I have been a mom for over a quarter of a century, but I remember each of my children’s births with such joy. I remember my son’s birth. We had picked a boy’s name and a girl’s name, deciding to wait and see. My labor was easy. As the baby was born, the doctor exclaimed that he was a boy! He was doing so well that we brought him home to meet his big sister that very morning.

From the start our son was easygoing and peaceful. He grew to be curious, mischievous, active and strong. He was skiing as soon as he could walk. Our son was fearless, whether he was skiing, skating, riding a bike, or climbing up a rock face. He excelled in team sports as well as individual sports, several times placing in the top ten in U.S. and World competitions.

As a young adolescent, however, he struggled in school. He didn’t fit in. We assumed it was because he was gifted and bored with the assignments. As he went on to high school, his struggles continued. He dropped out, completing his GED on his own, and moved on to college without a clear direction.

During those difficult times, he would come to me late at night, and we would talk things over. As a mom, I treasured those long conversations, happy I could be there for him, and despite his struggles, very proud of the young man he was becoming. One night, perhaps a decade ago, he wanted to talk. On this night, my son said, “Mom, I’m gay.” I immediately told him that no matter what, I loved him. (Later, when he came out to his dad, his father’s reaction was just the same.)

With this knowledge came a new responsibility to honor his right to be in control of who knew and who didn’t. And so began a new phase of our lives: living in the closet.

Our son pondered what to do with his life. One day he came home and announced he had joined the military. He was flush with excitement, fully aware of the risk he was undertaking, but, at the same time, so determined to serve. He excelled in Basic Training. He trained for his job and enjoyed his work as an enlisted man. He deployed abroad. He grew up in front of our eyes.

The officers above him recognized his drive and his ability, and helped him to get into a military program that sent him back to finish college and then commissioned him as an officer. He is well on his way to becoming a military pilot. Not long from now, he’ll earn his wings.

This baby, this boy, this man makes his Mom so proud. But as I think about his life forced in the closet from this “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” it makes waiting for repeal another day that much harder.

Mom’s have lots of dreams when they have babies. All of you moms know what I am talking about. What if your child had to live a lie; had to remain alone through their best and brightest years? My dream for my son is that the United States of America would wake up and realize that times have changed, that people who happen to be gay or lesbian are really just like the rest of us, with the same aspirations, the same needs, and the same goals.

“Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” throws more than just service people into the closet; it throws moms, dads, siblings, grandparents, godparents, friends and loved ones in there as well.

As a mom, my heart breaks for all the gay and lesbian “kids” in the military, and for all the special people in their lives who live with us in the closet.

I dream of actually being able to write to the President, my senators and representatives in the Congress, and actually signing my name, something I can’t do now due to the risk of outing my son.

I dream of the day when my son won’t have to live in fear, even as he works to keep the rest of us from living in fear.

And yes, as a mom, I dream of my son getting married to the man of his dreams. I dream they will have all the rights that my husband and I do. I dream that my son won’t have to wait through his entire military career to find love. We all yearn for love.

Today, even in the closet, I dare to dream.

Signed,
A mother in the closet
(The writer is unable to identify herself publicly without risk to her son’s military career.)

Stories from the Frontlines: Sergeant Shonda Garrison

Stories from the Frontlines: Letters to President Barack Obama is a media campaign launched to fight to repeal “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT). Every weekday morning as we approach the markup of the Defense Authorization bill in the Senate and House Armed Services Committees, SLDN and a coalition of voices supporting repeal, will share an open letter to the President from a person impacted by this discriminatory law.

Today's letter is from former Sergeant Shonda Garrison:

Dear Mr. President,

I am a proud Army veteran of the first Gulf War. You won't find anyone who loves this country more. I get chills and teary eyes, every time I hear the Pledge of Allegiance or The Star Spangled Banner. I've been known to call a business when I see them flying a tattered flag to let them know that if that's all the pride they have in the American flag, they should just take it down. I am also a proud lesbian.

I joined the military in 1989, before “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT) was enacted and when there was an outright ban on gays and lesbians in the military. I did not realize at the time that I was a lesbian, but later, when I did come to terms with my being gay, I never tried to hide it, but I did not flaunt it either.

My sexual orientation was a non-issue. I was a hard charging soldier, promoted long before my peers. I am sure there was talk behind my back about me being a lesbian, but no one ever seemed to care. I was a good friend, soldier, and leader; everyone I encountered could have cared less about what happened in my private life. After DADT was passed, I started to hear stories about people being discharged. I struggled with this every day, always fearful that I would be next.

Eventually, the stress of constant fear that I could lose my job no matter how hard I worked or how well I performed, became too much. I knew from the stories of others that even serving to the very best of my ability could cost me my job. I knew that an anonymous tip—by someone who was jealous of my success, angry with me because of a disagreement, or mad because I rebuffed a sexual advance—could trigger a demoralizing, demeaning investigation under DADT. And if I was not willing to lie, I knew an investigation could lead to my discharge.

I was lucky, though. I did not get kicked out, but that does not mean that DADT didn’t affect me. The uncertainty and fear of knowing that anyone with a grudge could end my career, and the sadness in realizing that at any time my country could callously discard me for no other reason than the fact that I was gay, pressured me to give up the career I loved. I chose not to reenlist.

There are days when it is hard for me not to walk into the nearest recruiting station and sign back up. I watch what is happening in Iraq and Afghanistan and it's hard for me to think about not being there with the men and women I served with in the first Gulf War. I have to remind myself why I chose not to reenlist.

Defending our country in uniform is one of the greatest privileges and responsibilities of being an American. Many people do not appreciate that; many take our freedoms for granted; and many do not choose to serve. We cannot afford to lose those who want to serve, who have the necessary skills and work ethic, and who would risk their lives for their comrades and their country.

Mr. President, in your State of the Union Address, you said that the American people are not quitters. I did not quit on my country during the first Gulf War and I would serve again if called. There are at least 66,000 gays and lesbians serving right now who do not want to quit, either. Mr. President, please don’t quit on them. Please do everything in your power to end DADT this year. We are counting on you.

Respectfully,
Former Sgt. Shonda Garrison
United States Army

Stories from the Frontlines: An anonymous soldier

Stories from the Frontlines: Letters to President Barack Obama is a media campaign launched to fight to repeal “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT). Every weekday morning as we approach the markup of the Defense Authorization bill in the Senate and House Armed Services Committees, SLDN and a coalition of voices supporting repeal, will share an open letter to the President from a person impacted by this discriminatory law.

Today's letter is from an anonymous soldier scheduled to return to Iraq:

Dear Mr. President,

I am writing to you from a kitchen in the state of Washington. The love of my life is in the other room. It has been eight months since I saw him last and I cherish every moment we spend together. Next week, my mid-tour leave will be over and I will return to Iraq and finish my second deployment. I don’t know when I’ll see my partner again.

When serving in a war zone, you learn quite a bit about yourself and what’s important to you. I’ve had the chance to work on a close and personal level with the people of Iraq, and in doing so, I have realized more than ever that the freedoms we enjoy as Americans should not be taken for granted – we must protect them at all costs. These freedoms are essential to the very foundation of our society. Yet so many men and women who fight for these freedoms aren’t allotted their own. Our freedom to love and be loved by whomever we choose. The freedom to live of a life of truth and dignity.

Recently I was informed that the military was investigating me for violating the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” law. Another service member had apparently “outed” me. At first I felt free: I didn’t have to lie anymore. But after that initial sense of relief, I’m left knowing just how little the Pentagon and the United States government think of me.

Mr. President, my unit is extremely undermanned. We’re working around the clock in Baghdad. My commander informed me that the Army cannot afford to lose me. I was told that they would prepare my discharge paperwork, “stick it in a Manila envelope, and keep it in a desk -- for now.”

One moment they wanted to throw me out and the next they are hiding evidence to keep me in.

My comrades now know that I am gay, and they do not treat me any differently. Work runs as smoothly as ever, and frankly the only difference I see -- besides my pending job loss -- is that I am free of the burden of having to constantly watch my words and ensure my lies are believable.

Having this out in the open makes things a bit less stressful. But it’s also clear the Army is only keeping me around until they are done with me. After I have served my two deployments -- and only a year shy of separating from the military honorably -- I suspect they will kick me to the street.

It’s bad enough that there is a law that denies tens of thousands of service members from serving with integrity, but it’s even worse when such a law is carried out with such inconsistency, without any warning of when it might come down.

If my suspicions are true, my discharge will move forward after my deployment. I am good enough to serve in war, but not at peace? I will never be at peace until this law is repealed – and neither will my partner. In fact, he won’t even be informed if I am killed in action. That might be the hardest part for us both.

Mr. President, when you took office I remember watching your inauguration knowing that history was being made. I remember feeling like this weight was being lifted off of my shoulders. I truly believed in you, and I still do.

But, Mr. President, please keep your promise to me.

Please do everything in your power to help Congress repeal “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” this year. Our government called upon us to fight for our country. So many of us answered the call; we did not delay. We were sent world’s away to defend your freedoms. Mr. President, won’t you fight for mine?

With deep respect,
A soldier returning to Baghdad
(The writer is currently serving and unable to identify himself publicly.)

Stories from the Frontlines: Sergeant David Hall

Stories from the Frontlines: Letters to President Barack Obama is a media campaign launched to fight to repeal “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT). Every weekday morning as we approach the markup of the Defense Authorization bill in the Senate and House Armed Services Committees, SLDN and a coalition of voices supporting repeal, will share an open letter to the President from a person impacted by this discriminatory law.

Today's letter is from former Sergeant David Hall (left):

Dear Mr. President,

It has been almost eight years since I was discharged under “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” Every day another American patriot who volunteered to serve our country is discharged under this unjust law. Now is the time for you to show the leadership expected from our Commander-in-Chief and work with Congress to repeal “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” this year. How many more careers will be ruined before we see repeal?

I was fortunate to grow up as an Air Force brat. My dad and stepdad both retired from the Air Force after serving 20 years. It only made sense that I would eventually follow their footsteps and serve as well. I didn’t realize I was gay when I joined the Air Force in March 1996 and never gave any thought to “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.”

There was nothing I enjoyed more than wearing the uniform and was very proud to be serving my country. I did everything right to ensure I had a successful career in the Air Force. I loaded missiles on F-15’s at Langley AFB where I received Airman of the Quarter, Load Crew of the Quarter, and was even handpicked for a no-notice deployment to Kuwait when I was deployed to Saudi Arabia for Operation Southern Watch. At Elmendorf AFB, I was selected to work at the Weapons Standardization Section where I trained and evaluated load crews on loading bombs and missiles on F-15E aircraft. I was promoted to SSgt on my first try and graduated as a distinguished graduate from Airman Leadership School.

After reenlisting for another four years I decided to apply for Air Force ROTC and was selected under the Professional Officer Course – Early Release Program. I was discharged from active duty in August 2001 and signed my ROTC contract the next day. One of the proudest moments of my life was when I received my pilot slot. I was so excited; not only was I going to be an officer in the Air Force but I also had the chance to be a pilot. All my hard work was paying off.

But everything changed a few months later. A cadet went to my commanders and told them I was gay and dating a fellow cadet. During the investigation that followed I made no comment to the JAG officer conducting the investigation. I was eventually called into my commander’s office and disenrolled from ROTC in August 2002. I received a piece of paper saying I was no longer fit for military duty due to “homosexual conduct.” You can’t even imagine how that feels. Almost 8 years later, I still remember wearing my flight suit for the last time and handing my ID card to the NCO who was trying not to cry.

Mr. President – I assure you I am fit for military duty and so are the 66,000 lesbian and gay service members currently serving. Please keep your promise and stop discharging patriotic Americans. I did my part; now, sir, please do yours!

Respectfully,
Former SSgt. David Hall
United States Air Force

Stories from the Frontlines: Sergeant Tracey Cooper-Harris

Stories from the Frontlines: Letters to President Barack Obama is a media campaign launched to fight to repeal “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT). Every weekday morning as we approach the markup of the Defense Authorization bill in the Senate and House Armed Services Committees, SLDN and a coalition of voices supporting repeal, will share an open letter to the President from a person impacted by this discriminatory law.

Today's letter is from Chief Hospital Corpsman Brian K. Humbles (left):

Dear Mr. President,

A “sexual predator” -- that’s what someone in the military called me after 22 years of faithful service.

It was September, 2005. I remember the moment I received notice from the Navy Criminal Investigation Service (NCIS) that I was under investigation and I couldn’t figure out why.

Not long before that day, I was conducting medical exams on two sailors who were being open about their sexual orientation. The rules were clear. If a service member comes “out” to a medical professional or even a chaplain, we were required to report it.

Instead of alerting their command, I made the choice to caution them about the risks of being too open. As a bisexual man myself, I knew the fear they experienced under the law of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.”

I knew the “ins and outs” of serving silently – even while deployed to Afghanistan. The law, frankly, is a scary thing. The fear of being “outed” – of losing your job – can sometimes be too much to handle.

My good faith efforts in counseling these two young men on their sexual orientation resulted in accusations of molestation. In the course of the investigation, under intense pressure from an NCIS agent and a desire to be truthful, I admitted to being bisexual.

Fortunately, it didn’t take long for NCIS to conclude its investigation and find the accusations by the two men to be without merit. The authorities governing medical ethics at the hospital also launched an independent investigation and concluded the charges were unfounded. And finally, an Article 32 hearing exonerated me of any wrong doing.

Everyone thought the case was closed. I thought the case was closed. But it wasn’t.

The Staff Judge Advocate (SJA) on base, acting without authority, continued her own investigation and convinced the ranking Admiral that regulations mandated that he move to administratively separate me with an “Other Than Honorable” discharge; a move that would result in the loss of my 20+ year retirement.

Acting without the proper authority, she even went over the Admiral’s head and appealed to the Navy’s personnel office, telling them I was taking “sexual liberties” with patients, which she knew was not true.

I wanted to serve my country. Now, I was fighting to not be humiliated by it. At the SJA’s encouragement, the command initiated discharge proceedings. I knew I’d be discharged but my retirement and my livelihood was also on the line.

In the middle of opening statements at my discharge hearing, a fellow service member who also sat on the Administrative Separation Board, lashed out and called me a “sexual predator.” While she was removed from the board, the damage was done.

After a strong push by my faithful defense team, the board ruled that I could keep my retirement benefits and be discharged honorably.

I served for 22 years and wanted only to fulfill the remainder of my time. A promise I made to my country.

The criminal investigation by NCIS took all but six months. But one person -- a JAG officer -- spent the next eighteen months and countless man hours attempting to have me discharged with a reduction in rank and no retirement, all because I was gay.

Sir, those two years were frankly, mental hell, all because one person felt I shouldn’t be in the Navy, a service I loved and still love today.

Mr. President, the men and women in the armed forces need your leadership now. Repeal this law, this year. Help stop the pain of so many people who are currently facing discharge hearings. Help them keep their honor. Help them keep their integrity.

With great respect,
Brian K. Humbles
Chief Hospital Corpsman
Surface Warfare/ Fleet Marine Forces
United States Navy (RET)

Army to consider anonymous comments on repeal of military ban?

While projects like Stories from the Frontlines fight to repeal Don't Ask, Don't Tell using letters to President Obama from former and current servicemenbers, Army Secretary John McHugh said troops may soon be able to anonymously express opinions on the military's "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy.

"We're trying to do this in the quietest way possible, and by that, I simply mean not to sensationalize it, to try to really assess the soldiers' opinions. ... Anonymity, of course, is an important aspect," McHugh said.

Stories from the Frontlines: Sergeant Tracey Cooper-Harris

Stories from the Frontlines: Letters to President Barack Obama is a media campaign launched to fight to repeal “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT). Every weekday morning as we approach the markup of the Defense Authorization bill in the Senate and House Armed Services Committees, SLDN and a coalition of voices supporting repeal, will share an open letter to the President from a person impacted by this discriminatory law.

Today's letter is from Sergeant Tracey Cooper-Harris:

Dear Mr. President,

My name is Tracey Cooper-Harris. I served in the Army for 12 years, reaching the rank of Sergeant. As a soldier and a non-commissioned officer (NCO), I performed my duties with honor and distinction. I was lauded by my peers and superiors for going above and beyond the status quo to complete the mission.

And, I am gay.

I lived in constant fear serving under “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” I was always looking over my shoulder, censoring what I said and keeping as much physical distance as possible between my military life and my personal life.

Even with this vigilance, I was found out by some male “friends” at my first duty assignment. I was just 19 years old. The deal was simple: Perform sexual favors and my secret was safe.

I had a choice: report these men for “sexual harassment/cohesion” and end my military career or submit to their demands.

Despite the military’s “zero tolerance” policy on sexual harassment, it doesn’t apply to those forced in the closet under DADT. I was sexually blackmailed and just a teenager.

At that time, as well as other times during my military service, I had seen friends discharged under DADT who were in similar situations. My friends were discharged, while their perpetrators were given a slap on the wrist.

The signal from command was clear: being gay was a far more serious offense in the military than sexually harassing a fellow service member. I ultimately chose what I believed was the best decision for me at the time. I let these men have their way with me in exchange for their silence.

I am not proud of what I did, but I loved my job too much to let it destroy my career before it had even started.

My decision didn’t come without consequences. I was eventually diagnosed with an STD which could potentially lead to cervical cancer later in life.

I, frankly, am still ashamed of what I had to do to stay in the Army. I wasn’t discharged under DADT, but left because of it. I continue to attend counseling sessions provided by the Department of Veterans Affairs for what I went through. The memories still come back to haunt me some 16 years later.

I don't want to see other service members go through what I went through. And unfortunately, this will continue to happen as long as DADT is law.

As long as a recruit or military member meets or exceeds the criteria for military service, let them serve. A bullet doesn’t discriminate because of a person’s race, gender identity, sex, religion, or sexual orientation, so why does the U.S. military continue to do so?

The time to repeal DADT is long overdue. Please, Mr. President, do the right thing.

Respectfully yours,
Former Sgt. Tracey L. Cooper-Harris
United States Army

Stories from the Frontlines: First Lieutenant Laura Slattery's Letter to President Barack Obama

Stories from the Frontlines: Letters to President Barack Obama is a media campaign launched to repeal “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT). Every weekday morning as we approach the markup of the Defense Authorization bill in the Senate and House Armed Services Committees, SLDN and a coalition of voices supporting repeal, will share an open letter to the President from a person impacted by this discriminatory law.


Dear Mr. President,

I may be stating perhaps an obvious truism: Love is confusing. As a friend and, later in life, a chaplain, I have counseled many as they tried to navigate the toughest of love‘s questions: Is this the person I should marry? Is this infatuation or love, and how can I know the difference? Should I take the relationship to the next level?

The first time I fell in love, it was just as confusing. I knew I was in love, but with a woman. It was a severe test for me. I had never been in a same-sex relationship and didn‘t see myself as gay. Yet the fact remained — I was in love.

Adding to the confusion, and the fear of the whole experience (love can be scary enough on its own!), was the fact that I had just graduated from West Point and was serving as a Second Lieutenant (2LT) at Schofield Barracks. I had gone to West Point, to a large degree, because of the code of honor. Integrity has always been, of all the values, the one I hold most dear.

My mother had graduated from UCLA and I remember clearly the day she told me how disappointed she was when she saw some of her students buying and selling papers they had written. At that moment I thought: Nope, that is not going to happen to me. I am going to a school that matches my desire and need for honesty and integrity.

So there I was – in love with a woman – and a brand new 2LT on a small island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. The easiest thing for me to do -- and the course of action I tried -- was to encourage myself to run from love. I also considered confiding in others, but given the horror stories of investigations and removals from duty, I decided against it. The thought of the shame of being interrogated and kicked out of the Service for something I wasn‘t even sure I was (a lesbian!), was too much to bear.

In the short three years that I was on active duty, I was Airborne and Air Assault (first female Distinguished Honor Graduate). During the First Gulf War, I volunteered to go to Iraq. Due to the needs of the Army, however, I remained in the Pacific – working in the 25th Infantry Division. The values of physical work, integrity, service and team building made the Army an almost ideal place for me.

I may have continued serving if I had felt more a part of the team. I was well-liked and had friends, but not being able to share the biggest struggle in my life (and the biggest joy) with my peers and military friends prevented me from really forming the kind of friendships that one needs to feel as an integral part of a team. It’s the warmth and support of a team that is truly needed for real “unit cohesion” among the officer corps and with the troops. It is necessary to continue to risk life and limb for each other. In the end we risked everything not only for our country, but for our country personified in and by our buddies, members of that integral team.
Not feeling that, I resigned my commission in September of 1991.

If I can be so bold, Mr. President: we need to help soldiers, and all people really, develop healthy understandings of what it is to be human, divorced from antiquated stereotypes about gender and gender roles. “Macho” has no place in the modern professional Army; put downs and negative comparisons to the feminine are also hurtful to the Esprit de Corps of the Forces. I know that you have based your Administration on creating a culture of respect for difference, of developing your version of “unit cohesion” based on the values of inclusion and diversity, not in spite of them. This is the direction that the military needs to go, and it can start by repealing DADT now.

Sincerely,
Former First Lieutenant Laura Slattery United States Army

Stories from the Frontlines: Captain Rebecca H. Elliott's Letter to President Barack Obama

Stories from the Frontlines: Letters to President Barack Obama is a new campaign using open letters to President Obama to fight for the repeal of Don't Ask, Don't Tell.

Today's letter is from former Army Captain Rebecca H. Elliott:

Dear Mr. President,


I am the mother of two young children, and an Iraq war veteran. I joined up just like my dad – a retired Army officer – and my sister, who currently serves in the Guard. My brother is a reservist and has been deployed to both Iraq and Afghanistan. Two weeks ago, our family gathered together as he is leaving again for Afghanistan -- his 4th deployment. Even my husband, Jay, served as an officer in the Air Force until 2008.


Like my dad, I chose the Army. I reached the rank of Captain and was a platoon leader in the military police. I was there during the invasion of Iraq in 2003.


I had some of the best NCO's (non-commissioned officers) in the Army who could accomplish any mission. Several members of my platoon received decorations for valor during the combat phase of Operation Iraqi Freedom.


On my last day of active duty, some of my old squad leaders revealed to me that one of my former team leaders was gay. They figured it was safe to tell me, as I was leaving the Army. My first feelings on the matter were, frankly, a little surprised, followed by complete indifference.


I was surprised because I had never suspected the soldier of being gay. But then, I never really had any thoughts about her sexual orientation whatsoever.


When I reflected on it, it didn't make one bit of difference in how she performed her job or how she related to the other soldiers in the platoon. She had the respect of her squad leaders (fairly conservative men, mind you), who kept her secret and continued working with her side-by-side for years.


As an officer, I would have been bound by my position to report such “credible information” that would have led to the discharge of a great NCO. I am glad that I was never placed in the position of having to choose between one of my soldiers and enforcing this terrible law, which I feel is unfair and wrong.


Please, Mr. President – at this critical time -- do not allow those serving their country to be forced to choose between good, honorable soldiers, and upholding an unfair law.


Please, do not continue to allow gays and lesbians in the service to have to choose between hiding a part of their identity and continuing to serve their country.


Please, help Congress repeal “Don't Ask Don't Tell” now.


Respectfully,
Former Capt. Rebecca H. Elliott
United States Army

Stories from the Frontlines: A military chaplain's letter to President Barack Obama

Stories from the Frontlines: Letters to President Barack Obama is a new campaign to repeal 'Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell' (DADT). Every weekday morning as we approach the markup of the Defense Authorization bill in the Senate and House Armed Services Committees, SLDN and a coalition of voices supporting repeal, will share an open letter to the President from a person impacted by this discriminatory law.


Below is a letter from a military chaplain who is currently serving and unable to identify himself publicly:

Dear Mr. President,

As an active-duty military chaplain who just returned from a 15-month deployment in Iraq, this is my appeal for justice:

Over the years some of us have buried our closest friends -- officers and enlisted, African American, Latinos, Native Americans, Asians, Whites, rich, poor, Protestants, Catholics, Muslims and Jews. They had the courage to make the supreme sacrifice in order for us to reap the bounties of freedom. We owe them a debt of gratitude which can never be repaid.

What is remarkable about these Marines, Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Coastguardsmen is they understood the personal risk when they answered the highest calling of our nation. What could be a nobler act then to give one’s life to one’s country, knowing that in their lives many freedoms would be denied them?

And when their story is told a significant piece of their life would be missing.

As they sleep under the crosses, the stars of David and the crescents there is no bigotry. There is no prejudice. There is no hatred. And within the sacred confines of their resting place there is no law of “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell.” There is only purest democracy.

When the final cross has been placed in the last cemetery, will it only be then that we as a nation acknowledge our gay brothers and sisters who took the risks of life and truth to answer their nation’s highest calling? How many of these brave men and women lie in military graves and still hide in death?

They are among the unknown soldiers.

There are only a few who know the truth of those who lie in these graves. There are only a few who know the suffering and sorrow of those who mourn them in silence and fear. The nation remains silent and owes no allegiance to who they truly were nor does it honor their loved ones. What does that say of our sacred values?

If one gay person was killed in defense of America, issues such as the destruction of unit morale or the fear of people not wanting to join the military devalue their sacrifice. This is not about appeasing the uncomfortable feelings of a minority; this is a universal and transcendent matter of justice. America was built on the common Jewish and Christian heritage of justice when the Bible commands: “Justice, justice you shall pursue” (Deuteronomy 16:20).

It is easy for those who do not live in fear of being ‘outed’ to say: ‘We must wait and examine this law further.’ But when you have to watch what you say, where you go, and who you talk to, this erodes the human person. When you live in fear that the wrong pronoun slips through your lips, or a co-worker see you in public with your life long partner and you respond ‘this is just a friend’, this degrades your human self worth.

Gays and lesbians wait not for justice, for them justice is denied, but they wait for the ‘knock on the door.’ They are haunted daily waiting ‘to be found out.’

We went to foreign lands to wage war to liberate people so they would not have to live in the fear of waiting. But citizens of our own land who served nobly, who died to secure freedoms which they would never profit from, must live in fear waiting for justice.

"Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell" is an unjust law. It degrades the human soul because it forces those who willingly serve to live in shameful humiliation because of deceit and fear. It undermines the very principles and values of what it means to be an American. Living the façade of a life goes against the Core Values of every Armed Service. How much longer is justice going to be denied? There comes a time when despair and fear must end.

Mr. President, we depend on your sense of justice and fairness to help end this gross injustice so we, as a nation, do not have to wait for the final marker to be placed in the last cemetery.

We ask you to lead the way in repealing this unjust law and replace it with a policy of non-discrimination that advances open and honest service. A law that is consistent with true American values and honors the sacrifices of so many who have served – and died -- in silence.

With deepest respect,
A military chaplain

Stories from the Frontlines: Capt. Joan Darrah's Letter to President Barack Obama

'Stories from the Frontlines: Letters to President Barack Obama' is a new campaign for congressional action and presidential leadership to repeal 'Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.'

Every weekday morning as we approach the markup of the Defense Authorization bill in the Senate and House Armed Services Committees, SLDN and a coalition of voices supporting repeal, will share an open letter to the President from a person impacted by this discriminatory law.

Today's letter is from Captain Joan Darrah (pictured above):

Dear Mr. President,

My name is Joan Darrah and I served in silence under “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” (DADT) for almost two decades. I share my personal story with you as we’re at a critical point in the fight to repeal this discriminatory law.

We urgently need your voice and leadership as we lobby the Armed Services Committees and the full House and Senate to end DADT this year.

I’m sure, as I do, you remember exactly where you were on September 11, 2001.

At 8:30 a.m. that day, I went to a meeting in the Pentagon. At 9:30 a.m., I left that meeting. At 9:37 a.m., American Airlines Flight 77 slammed into the Pentagon and destroyed the exact space I had left less than eight minutes earlier, killing seven of my colleagues.

On Sept. 11, 2001, I was a lesbian Navy captain who, at that time, had more than 28 years of dedicated military service. My partner, Lynne Kennedy, an openly gay reference librarian at the Library of Congress, and I had been together for more than 11 years. Each day, I went to work wondering if that would be the day I would be fired because someone had figured out I was gay.

In spite of that stress, somehow Lynne and I had learned to deal with "Don't Ask, Don't Tell"; we had made the requisite sacrifices. I had pretended to be straight and had played the games most gays in the military are all too familiar with.

But after Sept. 11 our perspective changed dramatically. In the days and weeks that followed, I went to at least seven funerals and memorial services for shipmates who had been killed in the Pentagon attack. As the numbness began to wear off, it hit me how incredibly alone Lynne would have been had I been killed.

The military is known for how it pulls together and helps people; we talk of the "military family" which is a way of saying we always look after each other, especially in times of need. But none of that support would have been available for Lynne, because under "don't ask, don't tell," she couldn't exist.

In fact, had I been killed, Lynne would have been one of the last people to know, because nowhere in my paperwork or emergency contact information had I dared to list Lynne's name. This realization caused us both to stop and reassess exactly what was most important in our lives. During that process we realized that "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" was causing us to make a much bigger sacrifice than either of us had ever admitted.

Nine months later, in June 2002, I retired after 29 years in the U.S. Navy, an organization I will always love and respect.

Today, nine years after that fateful day at the Pentagon, I am now committed to doing everything I possibly can to get rid of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" so our military can finally be open to all qualified and motivated individuals who want to serve their country. This is the right step for our country, for our military, and for all gay men and lesbians.

As a veteran, and as a witness to the 14,000 men and women who have been discharged, I thank you for your bold words in your State of The Union address: “This year, I will work with Congress and our military to finally repeal the law that denies gay Americans the right to serve the country they love because of who they are. It's the right thing to do.”

I have great love and respect for our country, and I know that we will be a stronger and better country when we repeal "Don't Ask, Don't Tell."

With great respect,
Capt. Joan Darrah
United States Navy (Ret.)