To say his story was harrowing would be an understatement. Creeping through snake-ridden, swampy jungles in the night. The killing of innocents. Watching a fellow serviceman die. Beheadings. It was no wonder to me that he had nightmares.
In those days, for a person like me who never considered himself anything other than a boy, being a homosexual (aka faggot, queer, homo, pansy) was a curse worse than death. Even though I had very little understanding of what it really meant, I was programmed to believe homosexuality was “bad.” I knew I didn’t want to be one.
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