re: #308 Interesting Times

Some examples of the people barfing-bigot-tom calls “buggers in battledress”:

Tell: An Intimate History of Gay Men in the Military

When Alva signed up, before “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” he had to lie on his paperwork. “I knew I was lying,” he says. “But I loved what I did, I loved my job, and I didn’t want to tell anyone. I said, ‘It’s going to be my secret.’ I knew I was not going to be happy in a way, but I knew this was what I wanted.” In 2003 he was deployed to the Middle East, and on March 21 he crossed the border from Kuwait. His unit was part of a huge convoy that stopped outside Basra. Alva got out of his Humvee and went to fetch something from the back of the vehicle. “That’s when I triggered the IED. I was awake, my hearing was sort of gone. My hand was covered in blood and part of my index finger was gone. The chaplain was holding my head and I was telling him I didn’t want to die. I was taken off a helicopter in Kuwait—it was estimated that I was only in Iraq about three hours—and carried into surgery. I woke up later and when I looked down I saw that the right side of my sheet was flat. I cried myself asleep, only to wake up hours later and see that it’s true: My leg is gone.”

As he recuperated, he learned about his inadvertent status. “I don’t know who designated me to be the first. I was never given a certificate or anything. One-millionth shopper. Now I have the dubious distinction of being the first American injured when the war started. It didn’t make it better or worse. I mean, my life was changed forever. I was angry that my leg was gone. Even when I was still in the hospital, hours would go by so slow, and I actually said to myself: ‘Who is going to love me now?’ I’d never really experienced dating anyone. ‘Who is going to love me now? I’m missing a leg.’ “