by Charles McCaffrey
There’s a small thrift shop on base at Pearl Harbor that sells used military uniforms; and since I wouldn’t need mine in a couple of days, I was giving them away. I had served, and now that time was over. Why not let someone else buy and use my uniforms on the cheap.
“How long were you in?” asked the guy behind the counter. He had a retired Navy Chief Petty Officer vibe.
“Twelve years,” I replied.
As I unpacked my dress blues, I was taken back to the last time I had worn them a year ago on a late fall day in Virginia. At the funeral, I was allowed to sit in the front row because I was friends with the family. But a handful of attendees knew we had been more than just friends. Afterwards, I lost it. I withdrew. A couple of drinks on the weekend became a couple of drinks every night. I didn’t ask for help-certainly not from the military.
Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.
The pressure built. I worried about being found out, losing my clearance, my job, my livelihood. I kept it bottled up, kept withdrawing, and kept drinking. Ironically, the things I feared would happen ended up happening anyway. But better to be seen as a drunk than be exposed as a queer.
“Couldn’t hack it, huh?”
And there it was-my military service reduced to one smart-assed comment. In a matter of minutes, I had been judged and found wanting.
A funny thing happens when two strangers meet and discover they have military service in common. It’s the equivalent of two dogs sniffing each other’s butts trying to determine who is the alpha male. I’m sure this was just a senior enlisted taking a jab at an officer; but I wasn’t taking the bait. After everything I had been through in the past year – the loss, the shame, the anxiety, and the anger – I was exhausted.
“Guess not,” I said. I turned my back on him and walked out of the shop.
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Charles McCaffrey is a Navy Veteran; and an avid storyteller and writer. As a kid, he always had paper and a box of crayons with him; drawing and writing about people, places and things both real and imagined. He still carries a pen and notebook with him everywhere he goes. His work is greatly influenced by his time in the military; and reflects images and impressions of the places he visited and the experiences he had during his travels.
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