Joe Barrows
Specialist, U.S. Army (1969-1970)
I served in the U.S. Army from 1968 to 1970. The last year I spent in Vietnam, south of Da Nang. While there, I served in electronic warfare as an unattended ground sensor operator. My job involved placing electronic sensors along jungle trails, then monitoring the sensors to detect movement. When our sensors detected movement, and there were no "friendlies" (U.S. or South Vietnamese troops) working on those trails, we called in artillery on pre-designated targets. The following morning, trained observers would fly over the area to check the results of the artillery strike. Their analyses would then be factored into the day's body count.
By today's measure of electronic warfare, this activity seems very primitive. At the time, however, it was highly effective and seemed extraordinarily sophisticated. The results were very effective. The Army awarded me a Bronze Star for my service. However, for my family and me, my biggest accomplishment was to return home alive and physically unharmed.
Just as electronic warfare is vastly different now, I suspect that my service as a gay man was entirely different than it would be in today's all-volunteer military. As I was graduating from college in 1968, my draft status changed and the only option I felt I had was to enlist, which I did. There were only two no-service options. For me, both were unthinkable: I could flee to Canada, or I could check the box that said I was a homosexual. Back then, the options for professional employment as an openly gay man were just as limited outside the military as they were within. I believed my only option was to deny my sexual orientation, join the Army, serve my country and with luck, return home and get on with my life.
Whether it was true or not — and I never had to find out — rumor held that those who were discovered to be gay in Vietnam were not sent home immediately. Instead, they went to a military prison in Long Binh, and were sent home at the end of their tour with a dishonorable discharge. Needless to say, that was sufficient motivation for me to stay in the closet.
Ironically, my brief service in the military occurred at the same time as the Stonewall revolution launched the modern gay rights movement, galvanizing our efforts to claim equal rights for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender Americans. It is astounding how much progress we have made in the civilian world. Domestic partnership benefits and inclusive non-discrimination policies are broadly available through most major employers. Fair-minded politicians from both parties actively seek the support of GLBT voters and include us in their campaigns and staffs. Voters are electing openly gay candidates. We have a long way to go before we can claim full equality, but it is amazing how far we have come these past few decades.
In contrast, it is shameful how little progress has been made on behalf of those who serve in our armed forces. Electronic warfare was in its infancy when I served in Vietnam. In the intervening years, the advances have been phenomenal and the tools available to today's soldiers are more spectacular still. These advancements have, no doubt, saved the lives of many Americans and our allies.
I have to wonder, however, how our armed forces can make so much progress in technology, without making the same progress as the states and business across the county have made in recognizing basic civil rights for its gay, lesbian and bisexual soldiers. When can celebrate our differences rather than having to defend them? When will we acknowledge the contributions of America's GLBT soldiers and let them get on with their jobs without fear of expulsion?