Out in the Army: My Life as a Gay Soldier Read Online Free PDF Page B

running off a boat and into such ferocity. Would I ever do similar? The stories we heard and the sights we witnessed were designed to inspire us as young soldiers. It certainly did that. I picked up a pebble from Sword beach and still have it today. I took it to Basra with me in 2007 and placed it next to my living space. It reminds me what a group of motivated young people can do and how the world was changed for ever by their heroic actions.
    As my army training progressed, I remember feeling extremely close to the other boys by the time we’d reached halfway. The harshness of the experience had bonded us together and I naturally forgot and lost touch with most of the people I’d known prior to joining the army. I spoke often with the platoon sergeant as he became more forthcoming, especially to those of us who were joining his regiment, and he offered me some very frank but very honest advice as the months ticked by: ‘Don’t get too close to the boys, Wharton. You’ll never see or hear of them again once this is all over.’
    I didn’t really believe him. I thought that the bond most of us had was pretty solid. We’d grown protective of each other and knew each other’s weaknesses; but his words resounded and I kept them in mind as our training period drew to a close.
    One night at the college sticks out in my mind. We were doing our mandatory two hours of military studies when all of a sudden a loud repetitive scream was heard coming from down the corridor . Everyone filed out into the hallway and moved through the double doors towards 3 Section’s room, where the commotion seemed to be coming from.
    Inside one of the boys, it appeared, had had a full breakdownand was crying and shouting uncontrollably. He was beyond the point of calming and I shouted at some of the other boys to get help.
    Written on the wall behind the boy in thick black ink were the words ‘RYAN IS A FAG!’ and it was obvious to us all that the graffiti was the cause of his current state.
    Soon enough, the training staff arrived and told us all to return to our bed spaces. We weren’t told politely either. I will always remember the enraged look on Corporal Campbell’s face, the corporal in charge of 3 Section, as he looked down at Ryan and back at us all.
    Within thirty minutes, the remainder of the platoon staff had been called back in and were having, from what we could hear, a one-way conversation with the platoon commander, Captain Kilpatrick.
    We heard the office door fling open and one of the corporals screamed, ‘Corridor!’ The entire platoon quickly scrambled out of various bed spaces and mustered in the long hallway ready for news.
    Captain Kilpatrick exited the office and stood before us.
    ‘You pin your ears back, fuckers, and you pin them back good!’ His voice reverberated through the corridor.
    ‘In 6 Platoon, I do not stand for bullying. In the army, we DO NOT stand for bullying. You little fuckers think you’re going to pass out and become soldiers, well, I’m telling you now: YOU ARE FUCKING NOT!’
    It was really bad; the worst to date. We’d been bawled at plenty over the course of the year, but this was different. This was the platoon commander being called in to deal with something late at night, hours after he’d finished for the day. He wanted blood and he promised those who were responsible that they would pay for it massively.
    We were ordered back to our rooms and told to sit in silence until instructed otherwise. I returned to my room, where the boys began whispering rumours about what was going on.
    ‘WHARTON!’ The platoon sergeant’s voice screamed from the office.
    What the fuck? What on earth did they want to speak to me about? I had absolutely nothing to do with whatever 3 Section had been getting up to in that room of theirs.
    All the boys in my room looked at me. It was written all over their faces; they thought I’d written that horrible sentence on Ryan’s wall. Furthermore, I knew