Gays In The Military. Vincent Cianni

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      I had my first base assignment in F.E. Warren Air Force Base, Cheyenne, Wyoming. I wore the uniform with pride. I never had to be reminded of a shoeshine. No disciplinary actions at all. I definitely saw the possibility of spending twenty or thirty years in the Air Force. I came to love it that much. I was very good at what I did. I served as a base policeman, was trained to put on fatigues to go into the missile fields with an M16, and was part of an airborne strike team for alarm responds to our ICBMs [intercontinental ballistic missiles]. I was nominated to become a bodyguard for the commanding general of the Strategic Air Command headquarters, which was a very high honor for me.

      In the midst of all this, OSI [Office of Special Investigations] put witch-hunt procedures into effect. I got called in and formally placed under investigation. One of the guys went to OSI and said, “He’s gay.” I blew up during the interview and basically told OSI to go fuck themselves. I got up and moved quickly to open the door and exit the office the way I came in. They tried to stop me; they wanted me to go out the back door because there was a Billy Martin sitting in the anteroom to be interviewed next. But it was the wrong Billy Martin. There just happened to be two guys with the same name. The one sitting in the next room knew nothing; there was nothing for him to know. Basically they launched a fishing expedition based on a rumor.

      They jerked me back into the room, closed the door, and shoved me out the back door. I was sent from there to the squadron administrative officer where I was served papers saying I was going to be discharged for being a homosexual. I was not dealing with that too well because if I had stayed in the Air Force, my lifelong dream was to be a cop. In the early ’70s you could forget about being a cop if you were discharged from the military for being gay.

      I would have been relieved of all my duties, and I should have been assigned to the goon squad—the drug addicts, the disciplinary problems—and what they did was spend all day cleaning the barracks. The commanding officer of my squadron found out about it and transferred me to his office for the remainder of the investigation. I had an envelope come in for the captain and I opened it; it was from OSI. It was a confidential report to the commanding officer on Billy Martin, who had been arrested downtown for exposing himself to an eighty-nine-year-old woman. And this was the correct Billy Martin. Here I am, knowing that my accuser has been arrested by the civilian police. I put it back in the envelope, sealed it up, and took it in. It didn’t fool the captain; he knew that I had seen it and he just smiled at me.

      During the investigation, they searched my off-base quarters. They went through the freezer, they went through everything and found nothing. We forced the Air Force to prove what they were saying. I knew there could be no proof; they didn’t even have the right Billy Martin to start with. I went in there with my attorney; the judge advocate general turned the file over to him and my attorney reviewed the entire file; he handed it back and said, “We demand a court martial,” and the judge advocate general said, “I don’t blame you, it’s the weakest case I’ve ever seen for accusing somebody for being gay.” The next day the case was dropped. I was the first airman on that base to beat an active investigation for being gay. I was restored to duty, given my security clearances back, my weapons cards.

      My CO [commanding officer] came to me and said, “I feel the Air Force owes you something. You can have your pick of any base in the world you want to go to and I’ll make sure it’s done.” As a matter of fact, my CO wrote a letter of recommendation to my next CO, which just wasn’t done in the military. I chose England and was sent to RAF Woodbridge, which was a fighter base with nukes, and once again served in base police. That’s where things began to change for me personally.

      I arrived on assignment and developed a pilonidal cyst. It’s very painful and you have to have an operation to get rid of the damn thing. I had a male nurse. Once I started to get better, he said, “You’re getting pretty good, you can get around. Do you want to come over to the barracks tonight; we’ll have a beer or something.” I said, “Sure. It’d be good to get out of here.” I got into the room with him and we were talking and one thing led to another. I remember I put my head on his chest, and he said, “You know, Bruce, all you really need is somebody to love.” And that is what really struck me. It was the catalyst. I knew that he was right; I did need that. And I wasn’t going to be able to find it in the Air Force because of the anti-gay policy.

      So when I returned to duty after about a month, I went to the major and told him I was bisexual. That was my only cop-out. I said I was bi because I figured it would be easier for them to deal with. He said, “I know.” And I said, “Well, you know I was also under investigation on my last base.” He said, “I know. I want you to turn around and walk out of here and believe that this conversation never happened.” He did not want me to leave the Air Force; he did not want me to leave the squadron. But I insisted on it, and once I insisted on it, he had no choice but to go ahead and start the process.

      It was the procedure to code the reason the person was being discharged, and an employer would have a list of the codes and see what you were being discharged for. That had been the procedure up until April 19, 1974. On that day, I had gotten a call from my friend on Capitol Hill: “It’s now in effect as of 12:00 today, make your move.” And that’s when I called the major and said let’s do it today. I basically chose the day of my discharge. I was getting a lot of shit from one of the clerks in the area that processes it, and his sergeant turned around and reamed him and said, “You don’t say a word to this man about anything to do with his personal life, you just process the paperwork and shut up.”

      And so, in April of 1974 I left the Air Force. I became the first one to go out honorably without the code. I can’t say that I was disrespected in any way.