My sleep was already tentative at best so the howling of my neighbor's dogs woke me up. Was it really only 0400? I need to stop doing that, it's 4 a.m for civilians. I wandered out of my room and headed to the kitchen. Krieger, our German Shepherd, was curled up on his bed. In his usual slow, half-awake manner, he managed to clumsily stand up and come see me. I filled his bowl with food and plopped down next to him with some cold pizza. As we sat together in the kitchen, speechless, my thoughts drifted to the day to come.
By then, I had already lived through that day a hundred times in my head. I wondered what it would feel like in that final second where I was a Sailor, a patriot serving his country. I don't know if I can really put it into words, because I don't really think I felt much of anything. It was a cold, feelingless process.
As I went through the final moments of my career, I kept thinking that someone was going to tell me it was all a joke, that I would be able to continue doing the job I loved.
Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. On March 23, 2007, I went home as a civilian.
There are 11,000 other stories like mine, each a little bit different. We were kicked out of the military not because we failed to meet some standard or did anything wrong; it was because of who we are. "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" is hate codified in law. Whatever arguments it's proponents might use -- unit cohesion, military readiness, or morale -- it's all a thin smokescreen for it's real basis: animus.
The law says to gay soldiers that we are not mature or professional enough to respect the privacy of our straight peers; to the straight soldier, it tells him that he is not capable of dealing with someone different than him. It's an insult to us all.
As the military struggles to find willing recruits, we are here, waiting for the word. We want to serve our country, honestly, and as ourselves. Isn't it time that the nation that spreads democracy and the ideals of human rights to the rest of the world stands up and actually walks the walk?
I encourage you to write your Congressmen and women to tell them one thing: It's time to lift the ban.
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