Kiosk - Conduct Unbecoming (page 3)

Conduct Unbecoming
(continued)

As long as America was not at war, the number of discharges grew. The government discharged an estimated 617 soldiers during the first year of the policy. The number rose almost every year until, in 2001 alone, 1,273 people were dismissed. Between 1994 and 2001, the discharge list totaled 7,987 people. This number failed to take into account the number of individuals that opted not to join the military because of the policy, or chose not to reenlist, which was estimated at 2,500 per year. Over 300 linguists were discharged.

“‘Bukra issaah zephr’ in Arabic is one of the easiest phrases to translate into English [for] an Arabic linguist. It means ‘tomorrow is zero hour,’ but it was not translated into English until two days after 9/11 because there were not enough translators.” – Alex Nicholson, Military Linguist, 2006

Upon her return from Japan in 2001, Jules became the public affairs officer for the 6th Marine Corps Recruiting District, headquartered in Parris Island, South Carolina. This was, and is, the only training ground for female Marine recruits. It is located in the south, where 58% of people believed gays should be allowed to serve openly in the military, as opposed to the national average of 79%. Jules also knew that she was stationed in a location with a reported history of “lesbian witch hunts.”

Women made up only 6% of the Marine Corps. When, in the 1980s, officials began questioning Marines about their sexuality, women were discharged at a rate seven times that of men. Books would later gather the experiences and recollections of female Marines. Agents staked out spots in the woods to photograph the inside of a staff sergeant’s private home, searching for lesbian activity in the Jacuzzi. Women were placed under review for asking others what they had been interrogated about. Others were separated from the military with less than honorable discharges because they associated with homosexuals.

Some women stopped participating in sports, or were compelled to “throw like girls.” Other women let their short hair grow longer, became pregnant, or married secretly gay men to avoid suspicion. Individuals resigned if their names came up during other interrogations; one committed suicide. Women were told they would be granted a form of immunity if they named other lesbians in the military. By the end, three women had been imprisoned, 18 had been formally discharged, more than 50 resigned or chose not to reenlist, and 10% of the female drill instructors were gone.

Jules arrived on Parris Island twenty years after the discharges, but was still paranoid about having her true orientation discovered and being separated from her beloved Marine Corps. In a new location, she undertook the lengthy process of finding people liberal enough to not turn her in for sharing her true feelings with them. They were slow in coming.

To celebrate their promotions to First Lieutenant, Jules met up with her friend from Officer Candidate School in New York for a “wet down.” The two women and their friends coasted through four days of drunken debauchery that consisted of hitting the clubs for hours, sobering up at diners, catching a nap, and doing it all again. The wet down was also where Jules met Francesca, an openly lesbian middle-school teacher who worked in Harlem and loved holding hands. When Jules went back to South Carolina, she began a long-distance relationship with Fran. After six cautious months of phone calls, emails, and scattered visits, Francesca went back into the closet and moved to Savannah, Georgia, an hour away from Parris Island, to live in secret with Jules.

The house proved to be a partial oasis. Inside, Jules could be herself. She could and did tell Fran, “I love you.” When she stepped out of the door, however, she once again had to fear that she would be spotted. Even though they lived an hour from the base, soldiers found their way to Savannah on weekends. While she was at work, the other women would share stories about their lives: they would discuss husbands, boyfriends, and romantic interests in addition to family and friends. When it was her turn to share, the topic often changed to what movie she had seen recently. One of her deepest desires was to be able to share someone she thought of as family with her friends and colleagues. If soldiers in 20 out of the 25 militarily involved countries in NATO could do it, why couldn’t she? More than anything, she wanted to be able to walk outside without fear, holding hands with Fran.

Then, in 2002, rumors began to circulate, just as they had in Okinawa. “How can an attractive Marine be single?” people asked. One day, her close friend and legal officer of the unit stepped into her office and closed the door. “Oh shit,” Jules thought. “Either one of my Marines is in trouble, or I am.” James, though he was friends with Jules, was still the one who carried out investigations for violating military policy. He sat across from her.

“Jules. I can’t legally ask you this, and you can’t legally answer, but…”

“Stop. I know where you’re going. You’re half right.”

Now he knew the truth. Jules prepared herself for her discharge. But it didn’t come. Instead, James, recognizing her as a good officer and friend, quashed the rumors and became her confidante on the base. But the stress of living the lie, avoiding questions, and denying her true feelings began to show. Previously able to run miles or pass a physical exam with ease, Jules watched as her blood pressure steadily rose from the stress. Something had to give. She started applying to graduate schools, and in 2003, headed off for the Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism, accompanied by Fran. She took with her one thing she loved, but, in leaving the Marines, she abandoned another.

Jules remained in New York until 2005, when the military needed more bodies to work in the Middle East. She was activated from the Individual Ready Reserves and placed, once again, on duty in the United States Marine Corps. An acquaintance, upon hearing that Jules was being sent to Iraq, gave her a suggestion.

“Don’t go to Iraq – tell them you’re gay!”

Interviewer: “What do you think would happen if a unit with a gay person went out into a combat situation?”

Daniel Davis, Gulf War Veteran, and specialist in battlefield tactics: “In my view, men are going to die, units are going to fail, that would otherwise not fail, or would otherwise not die…If I have a moral or religious issue you cannot order me to bond and cohese [sic] with that person, because he is morally repugnant to me.” -2007

Early in 2005, Jules was dispatched to Fallujah Camp, about three-quarters of a mile outside of Fallujah proper. Sand as fine as baby powder swirled around women swathed in black and caught on eyelashes above dried corneas. Insurgents occasionally lobbed explosives into the camp, and every trip down a dusted highway was in danger of enemy fire. Once, when trying to get from Fallujah to Camp Blue Diamond at Ramadi, Jules was bumped from her helicopter flight. She hitched a ride with a convoy, crammed into a militarily-equipped Humvee for the five-hour ride. Even if the Lieutenant squished next to her had been a talkative one, Jules could not have discussed Fran. As the convoy inched down the two-lane road, her vehicle swerved around an odd-looking shopping bag, while radioing trucks behind to do the same. Seconds later, it blew up in front of the larger semi-truck in back of her. She watched the explosion in the side mirrors, a bomb that could easily have taken her life and made one of Fran’s greatest fears a reality.

Despite the tension and danger, Jules continued her mission in Iraq. Working within the Al Anbar province, she generated media coverage and helped to rebuild schools, roads, clinics, waste systems, and other forms of infrastructure. The military awarded her a Navy Marine Corps Achievement Medal for her work. She worked out of the Civil Military Operations Center (CMOC) to help start an Iraqi newspaper: Al Fajr – New Dawn. As one of few ranking female military officers, Middle Eastern male officials looked at Jules as an anomaly. However, when the U.S. Military needed to help set up clinics, schools, and buildings that were to be run by women, she was one of the few who could interact with them in light of gender segregation and decorum.

When media tours came through Iraq, it was Jules’ job to keep them safe. Tall cameramen with bulky equipment made good sitting ducks. When a CNN news crew came through to film a local police station that was being remodeled, she noticed the first signs of an impending attack. The children that normally flock to military trucks for candy and toys didn’t take a step towards the up-armored Humvee. The cameraman stood filming even after the first shots at them rang out. Jules shoved him into the truck and sped to safety. Another time, Jules and six other Marines set up a makeshift road blockade to allow press photographers and journalists access to a story. Jules focused her attention on the buildings on her side of the road block. She maintained her watch even as an unknown vehicle charged towards the blockade and a colleague shot at the engine block to send the driver in the opposite direction. Every excursion brought dangers that could separate Jules and Fran permanently.

At the time, Julianne identified herself as bisexual, though she was in an exclusive relationship with Francesca.

(conclusion on page 4 )