Don't Ask, Don't Tell

Chapter 3

The only funcitioning ceiling fan worked extra hard to blow cool wafts on the marines with appalling results. The absence of air-con might have made Dennis happy, but the room had run out of fresh oxygen and filled with stuffy, spoiled air.

Rivers' fingers left sticky prints on the booklet abandoned on the desk.

Dignity & Respect. A Department Of Defense Training Guide On Homosexual Conduct Policy.

He opened it on a random page where comic-like soldiers had speech bubble conversations about homosexual acts.

As I said, I received a report that you and another male were seen engaging in a homosexual act in the barracks yesterday.

As if two marines would risk their careers and asses by fucking in the barracks. Real life wasn't porn. And that leaflet was pure sci-fi with all its claims of support and protection, just like the entire training. But at least the involuntary comedy of the literature didn't threaten to put Rivers to sleep, unlike major Smith's condescending voice.

"So, what does don't ask mean?"

The blades of the fan clanked against its misaligned axes. Someone in the first row coughed.

"That we're not allowed to directly ask about a marines' sexual inclination?" Samuel's answer rose above the ticking, quiet and unsure.

"For a homo, that's ninety degrees." Ben's weak joke came with a snort and awoken sparse chuckles across the room.

Major Smith glared at him, but turned to Samuel right away. "Yes, sergeant Reid, that is correct." Opening the booklet, he read verbatim. "Don't ask means that a soldier will not be asked to divulge or discuss their sexual orientation unless there is credible information of homosexual cooonduct." He looked up from under his reading glasses. "Let me also say, a person's sexual orientation is considered a ppersonal and pprivate matter. Soldiers shouldn't go around asking each other about their sexual preferences because that is not a bar to military service until or unless... it's manifested by homosexual conduct. The armed forced don't focus on what a person is. This is not a witch hunt, gentlemen. What we do care about, however, is conduct." Rivers' stomach churned with the over-enunciated vowels. "Homosexual cooonduuuct creates an unacceptable risk to unit cohesion, standards of morale, and discipline." A finger lifted with each word. "Therefore, any marines who has a propensity for homosexual cooonduuuct, admitted or proven..." His eyes danced around the auditorium. "Will be subject to discharge." Another dramatic pause that only dragged the training longer. "Propensity, however," Smith resumed, his arms behind his back as he paced the hardwood floor. "Means more than mere suspicion. We need credible information. Now, what do we mean by credible information?"

Rivers slumped against the bench and tugged at the jacket of his cammie to let air on his sweaty skin. To no use. Ben hit his knee with his own, but Rivers didn't move, turning only his eyes in a side-glance. Ben's fingers pressed the edges of the booklet so that it opened in the middle, creating a tight slit where he slid a pen in and out.

"Sad," Rivers mouthed.

Ben leaned closer, his muggy breath tickling River's neck. "Man, this shit is melting my brain. We got it. Don't harass the fags."

"If people quit saying fags, we wouldn't be here."

"Jeez, Mason, it's just a tease. Don't get all liberal on me, you big, fat hippy."

"Ben, it's too hot–"

"Sergeant Mason, any idea what does the don't tell part mean?"

Rivers sat straight, his shoulders buckled. All eyes were now on him, including Samuel's, his hands tucked under his armpits, accentuating his bulging biceps.