American Gulag - Chapter 1

1. Let Me Introduce Myself

Let me introduce myself. I am Dr. Winslow Gibbs, Ph. D. in Social Sciences, Columbia University (1978); and as a proud member of the gay community, I have specialized in gay-themed research and lectures. When I was asked to pen a work of social significance for the Gay and Lesbian community, I was not positive upon which topic to alite. I started several drafts on Gay voting statistics and election patterns. I also drafted sketches from my research on the impact of AIDS in the 1980s; but I could not really bring or shed any new or interesting light on any of those subjects. While having dinner with a colleague, I mentioned my dilemma. He reminded me that I was a veteran - US Army, 1966-68; and that Gay folk might not be interested in war stories or the military subject perse, they might be interested from our legal rights point of view.

There is such a misconception regarding the Gays in the Military subject, that this was a possible topic of choice. The more I thought about it, the more terrified I became. My own experiences in the military being a gay man were not exactly pleasant; and to revisit that time in my life, a time that did not fill me particularly with pride, would take a great leap back into a chasm that I closed never to be reopened. The treatment of gay people in the military during the Vietnam War era required no research on my part, except to stare into space and recall. So, I undertook the process, quietly at first; then with a bit of soul search; then, abandonment; then, I picked up my pen and began to scrawl from the fibers of my soul, the demeaning story of the Special Training Company - B Platoon, that gulag in the middle of Georgia that sought to segregate the undesirables from "normal" society; and discharge them like so much waste disposed back into an untenable and self-effacing reckoning.

I will begin by saying that the current Military policy of "Don't Ask - Don't tell," is an advance on the older "solutions." I can say that, because I have experienced those older solutions first hand. Do not misinterpret me. I say it is an improvement, but there is no substitute for full, equal rights; that is the best solution one can provide. Of course, it is already provided for in that glorious document of the American experiment called The Constitution; however, ink on paper, regardless of the age of that paper, does not necessarily translate into enforcement or reality when it comes to the full blend of American prejudice. The military is a microcosm of American life itself; and if 10% of all America in real life is homosexual; then how can anyone think that the Army would reflect differently.

Constitution aside, there is no national statement that homosexuals should be left alone and treated as all other American citizenry. Here is where the blend comes forward. The issue is one of "morality" and "morale." The military brass speaks of the "morale" issues; that heterosexuals would feel unsafe to live and cavort with homosexuals in such confined space where performance is an issue. Yet, for five centuries, Gay folk have been in one military organization or another - from the Gay battalions of Sparta to the battlegrounds of the Continental Army. After all, General Von Steuben was one of the gay boys at Frederick the Great's homosexual court. Von Steuben founded the Army that won the war for independence and started that little place known as West Point. Von Steuben at his life's end was cozy with his male lover in a nice apartment at the capitol. If we had banned Von Steuben from the Army for his homosexuality, history might have been different. Or NOT, and that is the point. Von Steuben's homosexuality should not (and did not, and does not) make a difference.

As another example, Alexander Hamilton, aide-de-camp to General Washington, not only wrote the Federalist papers, but also some of the most wonderful examples of love letters to another man, John Laurens, fellow aide-de-camp. I often respond to the quip, "Queer as a $3 bill," with "No, you mean the $10 bill." So, we do not need to look solely to our current military establishment for queer phenomena. It is no phenomena at all. Nonetheless, all major modern armies allow homosexuals to serve their country along side their heterosexual compatriots, with two major exceptions: Turkey and the United States of America. And who knows, Turkey might come around; or the term "major modern Army" could be redefined.

All I can say is, "Ask Me - I'll Tell!" However, when I was in the Army, I would not have said a word. It was 1967 and the Vietnam War was raging. Homosexuals had never been treated with any consideration in the military, but when there is a war, new rules and regulations kick-in. And after all, homosexuality undermines the cohesion of the battlefield; now there is a strange concept; and therefore, homosexuality is to be rooted out and stomped into oblivion. To be caught in a homosexual act during times of declared war, meant a swift tribunal and prison. Of course, if a heterosexual is engaged in sex; opposite sex cohabitation - it merited an Article 15 - something akin to a parking ticket. What was wrong with this picture - Prison vs. a Parking Ticket. That is having sex vs. having sex.

If you tell about your homosexuality today in the military, you can be discharged dishonorably. The day after this policy went into effect, the Soldier of the Year came out of the closet. His performance was OUTstanding. He did the job. He was destined for military greatness - but he was Gay, so - his qualifications were canceled. Dishonorable discharge!! However, when I was drafted there were a few differences. First of all, I was in the closet - but I knew. So, I checked "heterosexual" on the questionnaire. Yes, they asked then, as you came in the door for your physical, you were asked. "Are you a homosexual?" Many said yes - and were spared the whole army thing - but suffered the consequence - being "outed" to the rest of society and by Uncle Sam. The rest of us lied.

As a friend of mine told me once, there are Black lies and White lies; and we all know the difference. But then there is the Pink lie, when you are forced to lie and conceal who you are on the pain of punishment. All Gay folk know the pain of telling the Pink lie. All of Jewish Europe knew the consequences of not concealing who they were either. It is the same thing - the same syndrome - only, since when did any American institution mime fascism, and call it patriotism?

Imagine not being able to be who you are; not because you will receive society's scorn and the possible loss of your loved ones'; but because you will be locked up and discharged in a manner where you might find employment impossible. Branded like Cain, but not having committed Cain's crime. The American Army in 1967 had devised a way during boot camp - basic training - to identify gay men and separate them into their own Special Training Company in the hopes that gay men will be gay men when clumped together; thus, dishonorable discharges and prison sentences galore. These Special Training Companies were designed for misfits - those who could not pass the physical training requirements or the written tests or just acted alternatively.

Not everyone who was unfit or illiterate was sent here. You had to be identified or suspected of being Gay - then, you were sent here for the other reasons. It was like a little prison zone - a gulag for misfits. Of course, what we really did not fit into was military life and particularly, heterosexual military life; the prevailing machismo was that tough male, he-man Americans were the only stereotype acceptable to project into American culture. All else was counter-revolutionary. Ah, since when did a Communist concept become the hallmark of American patriotism? The odd fact is that most homosexuals in the Army slipped through this system; and many heterosexuals wound up in the Special Training Companies.

In the autumn of 1967, I was drafted. I was a whopping 275 pounds. It was beyond my belief that I would ever be acceptable for military service. Not only was I overweight, but, I also had a student deferment. I was also a lazy soul. So, when it came time for school enrollment, I took a light load and was one credit short of maintaining my student deferment. Within one week of school start, I was ordered to report for a physical.

I remember that the physical was an embarrassing ordeal. I knew I was homosexual, and had even been experimenting, as I saw it - but by the time I was drafted I was firmly back in the closet - a chubby closet at that. Naturally, I checked the NO box to the Homosexual question - as I truly believed that whatever I was, I could not really be that. Classic denial! Within three weeks of the physical, I was ordered to report to the induction center at Ft. Hamilton, Brooklyn; and I was off on a scary adventure, away from home for the first time and completely disoriented by everything around me.

I boarded a train at Penn Station and twenty hours later, and several shuttles through Columbia, SC - I was delivered to Fort Jackson. Immediately the Army began to regiment us. My hair was clipped, I was up a 4 AM each day, we ran everywhere and ate crap. Ft. Jackson was not my final destination. This was what they called "zero" week (which was two weeks long) and marshalled us in and march us around and had us tested and formed and tormented and yelled at - it was a dehumanizing process; which it was meant to be. From "zero" week, it was back on trains to Ft. Gordon, GA, where basic training would begin for an eight week period (which of course was ten weeks).

Well at my weight, I had no chance of actually passing the physical training for basic. I managed to get down to 260 pounds - but it was torture. Finally, after a few weeks in basic training at Fort Gordon, Georgia, I was taken out of the general routine and was allowed to help out in the Quartermaster's hut. I was relieved. No more PT - that is Physical Training. Here I saw a different Army; and Army of non-commissioned officers who lounged all day and did about as much work in a week that a civilian would do in an hour; but, I was not complaining, lazy streak that I had. I reported to the hut, was given some errands to run, mostly to the PX, napped duing the day, while watching the rain (it was always raining) and ate three crappy meals with everyone else. I did need to take my turn at KP; but that was nothing compared to the strain of basic training.

Then, one morning, I was told I would need to go pass the infiltration course. The thought of it was terrifying. This course would have me doing low-crawls under barbed wire while live ammunition was going off - bullets whizzing overhead and artillery canisters rumbling all around me. I began to shake. The more I thought about this, the more I thought I was losing my mind. I walked around in a daze. Finally, I hid. I hid for three hours, hoping they would never find me or at least I would miss the exercise. They found me in the Quartermaster's Hut, huddled under a desk, crying. I was told I did not need to do run the infiltration course. I recovered almost immediately.

Two days later, I was told to pack my gear. I had no idea what was happening. Was I discharged? Was I going to the hospital? I was put in a jeep and delivered to the Special Training Company. I had seen members of the Special Training Company at the PX and at the Barber's. They were always marched in formation - never allowed to talk to anyone else and were quarantined both in time and space. There were rumors they were all crazy men and worse, still - a bunch of flaming faggots.

I was very confused when I showed up at the commander's building; at 260 pounds I could have slipped through the cracks and been discharged as unfit, but because I cried, it was assumed that I was a compounded misfit - an overweight sissy. So I was destined for a different military fate. I was destined for the B Platoon of Special Training Company - the American Gulag.

Next Chapter

American Gulag

.		1. Let Me Introduce Myself Let me introduce myself. I am Dr. Winslow Gibbs, Ph. D. in Social Sciences, Columbia University (1978); and as a proud member of the gay community, I have specialized in gay-themed research and lectures. When I was asked to pen a work of social significance for the Gay and Lesbian community, I was not positive upon which topic to alite. I started several drafts on Gay voting statistics and election patterns. I also drafted sketches from my research on the impact of AIDS in the 1980s; but I could not really bring or shed any new or interesting light on any of those subjects. While having dinner with a colleague, I mentioned my dilemma. He reminded me that I was a veteran - US Army, 1966-68; and that Gay folk might not be interested in war stories or the military subject perse, they might be interested from our legal rights point of view. There is such a misconception regarding the Gays in the Military subject, that this was a possible topic of choice. The more I thought about it, the more terrified I became. My own experiences in the military being a gay man were not exactly pleasant; and to revisit that time in my life, a time that did not fill me particularly with pride, would take a great leap back into a chasm that I closed never to be reopened. The treatment of gay people in the military during the Vietnam War era required no research on my part, except to stare into space and recall. So, I undertook the process, quietly at first; then with a bit of soul search; then, abandonment; then, I picked up my pen and began to scrawl from the fibers of my soul, the demeaning story of the Special Training Company - B Platoon, that gulag in the middle of Georgia that sought to segregate the undesirables from "normal" society; and discharge them like so much waste disposed back into an untenable and self-effacing reckoning. I will begin by saying that the current Military policy of "Don't Ask - Don't tell," is an advance on the older "solutions." I can say that, because I have experienced those older solutions first hand. Do not misinterpret me. I say it is an improvement, but there is no substitute for full, equal rights; that is the best solution one can provide. Of course, it is already provided for in that glorious document of the American experiment called The Constitution; however, ink on paper, regardless of the age of that paper, does not necessarily translate into enforcement or reality when it comes to the full blend of American prejudice. The military is a microcosm of American life itself; and if 10% of all America in real life is homosexual; then how can anyone think that the Army would reflect differently. Constitution aside, there is no national statement that homosexuals should be left alone and treated as all other American citizenry. Here is where the blend comes forward. The issue is one of "morality" and "morale." The military brass speaks of the "morale" issues; that heterosexuals would feel unsafe to live and cavort with homosexuals in such confined space where performance is an issue. Yet, for five centuries, Gay folk have been in one military organization or another - from the Gay battalions of Sparta to the battlegrounds of the Continental Army. After all, General Von Steuben was one of the gay boys at Frederick the Great's homosexual court. Von Steuben founded the Army that won the war for independence and started that little place known as West Point. Von Steuben at his life's end was cozy with his male lover in a nice apartment at the capitol. If we had banned Von Steuben from the Army for his homosexuality, history might have been different. Or NOT, and that is the point. Von Steuben's homosexuality should not (and did not, and does not) make a difference. As another example, Alexander Hamilton, aide-de-camp to General Washington, not only wrote the Federalist papers, but also some of the most wonderful examples of love letters to another man, John Laurens, fellow aide-de-camp. I often respond to the quip, "Queer as a $3 bill," with "No, you mean the $10 bill." So, we do not need to look solely to our current military establishment for queer phenomena. It is no phenomena at all. Nonetheless, all major modern armies allow homosexuals to serve their country along side their heterosexual compatriots, with two major exceptions: Turkey and the United States of America. And who knows, Turkey might come around; or the term "major modern Army" could be redefined. All I can say is, "Ask Me - I'll Tell!" However, when I was in the Army, I would not have said a word. It was 1967 and the Vietnam War was raging. Homosexuals had never been treated with any consideration in the military, but when there is a war, new rules and regulations kick-in. And after all, homosexuality undermines the cohesion of the battlefield; now there is a strange concept; and therefore, homosexuality is to be rooted out and stomped into oblivion. To be caught in a homosexual act during times of declared war, meant a swift tribunal and prison. Of course, if a heterosexual is engaged in sex; opposite sex cohabitation - it merited an Article 15 - something akin to a parking ticket. What was wrong with this picture - Prison vs. a Parking Ticket. That is having sex vs. having sex. If you tell about your homosexuality today in the military, you can be discharged dishonorably. The day after this policy went into effect, the Soldier of the Year came out of the closet. His performance was OUTstanding. He did the job. He was destined for military greatness - but he was Gay, so - his qualifications were canceled. Dishonorable discharge!! However, when I was drafted there were a few differences. First of all, I was in the closet - but I knew. So, I checked "heterosexual" on the questionnaire. Yes, they asked then, as you came in the door for your physical, you were asked. "Are you a homosexual?" Many said yes - and were spared the whole army thing - but suffered the consequence - being "outed" to the rest of society and by Uncle Sam. The rest of us lied. As a friend of mine told me once, there are Black lies and White lies; and we all know the difference. But then there is the Pink lie, when you are forced to lie and conceal who you are on the pain of punishment. All Gay folk know the pain of telling the Pink lie. All of Jewish Europe knew the consequences of not concealing who they were either. It is the same thing - the same syndrome - only, since when did any American institution mime fascism, and call it patriotism? Imagine not being able to be who you are; not because you will receive society's scorn and the possible loss of your loved ones'; but because you will be locked up and discharged in a manner where you might find employment impossible. Branded like Cain, but not having committed Cain's crime. The American Army in 1967 had devised a way during boot camp - basic training - to identify gay men and separate them into their own Special Training Company in the hopes that gay men will be gay men when clumped together; thus, dishonorable discharges and prison sentences galore. These Special Training Companies were designed for misfits - those who could not pass the physical training requirements or the written tests or just acted alternatively. Not everyone who was unfit or illiterate was sent here. You had to be identified or suspected of being Gay - then, you were sent here for the other reasons. It was like a little prison zone - a gulag for misfits. Of course, what we really did not fit into was military life and particularly, heterosexual military life; the prevailing machismo was that tough male, he-man Americans were the only stereotype acceptable to project into American culture. All else was counter-revolutionary. Ah, since when did a Communist concept become the hallmark of American patriotism? The odd fact is that most homosexuals in the Army slipped through this system; and many heterosexuals wound up in the Special Training Companies. In the autumn of 1967, I was drafted. I was a whopping 275 pounds. It was beyond my belief that I would ever be acceptable for military service. Not only was I overweight, but, I also had a student deferment. I was also a lazy soul. So, when it came time for school enrollment, I took a light load and was one credit short of maintaining my student deferment. Within one week of school start, I was ordered to report for a physical. I remember that the physical was an embarrassing ordeal. I knew I was homosexual, and had even been experimenting, as I saw it - but by the time I was drafted I was firmly back in the closet - a chubby closet at that. Naturally, I checked the NO box to the Homosexual question - as I truly believed that whatever I was, I could not really be that. Classic denial! Within three weeks of the physical, I was ordered to report to the induction center at Ft. Hamilton, Brooklyn; and I was off on a scary adventure, away from home for the first time and completely disoriented by everything around me. I boarded a train at Penn Station and twenty hours later, and several shuttles through Columbia, SC - I was delivered to Fort Jackson. Immediately the Army began to regiment us. My hair was clipped, I was up a 4 AM each day, we ran everywhere and ate crap. Ft. Jackson was not my final destination. This was what they called "zero" week (which was two weeks long) and marshalled us in and march us around and had us tested and formed and tormented and yelled at - it was a dehumanizing process; which it was meant to be. From "zero" week, it was back on trains to Ft. Gordon, GA, where basic training would begin for an eight week period (which of course was ten weeks). Well at my weight, I had no chance of actually passing the physical training for basic. I managed to get down to 260 pounds - but it was torture. Finally, after a few weeks in basic training at Fort Gordon, Georgia, I was taken out of the general routine and was allowed to help out in the Quartermaster's hut. I was relieved. No more PT - that is Physical Training. Here I saw a different Army; and Army of non-commissioned officers who lounged all day and did about as much work in a week that a civilian would do in an hour; but, I was not complaining, lazy streak that I had. I reported to the hut, was given some errands to run, mostly to the PX, napped duing the day, while watching the rain (it was always raining) and ate three crappy meals with everyone else. I did need to take my turn at KP; but that was nothing compared to the strain of basic training. Then, one morning, I was told I would need to go pass the infiltration course. The thought of it was terrifying. This course would have me doing low-crawls under barbed wire while live ammunition was going off - bullets whizzing overhead and artillery canisters rumbling all around me. I began to shake. The more I thought about this, the more I thought I was losing my mind. I walked around in a daze. Finally, I hid. I hid for three hours, hoping they would never find me or at least I would miss the exercise. They found me in the Quartermaster's Hut, huddled under a desk, crying. I was told I did not need to do run the infiltration course. I recovered almost immediately. Two days later, I was told to pack my gear. I had no idea what was happening. Was I discharged? Was I going to the hospital? I was put in a jeep and delivered to the Special Training Company. I had seen members of the Special Training Company at the PX and at the Barber's. They were always marched in formation - never allowed to talk to anyone else and were quarantined both in time and space. There were rumors they were all crazy men and worse, still - a bunch of flaming faggots. I was very confused when I showed up at the commander's building; at 260 pounds I could have slipped through the cracks and been discharged as unfit, but because I cried, it was assumed that I was a compounded misfit - an overweight sissy. So I was destined for a different military fate. I was destined for the B Platoon of Special Training Company - the American Gulag. Next Chapter