A deeply poignant letter from WWII veteran Brian Keith to Dave, a fellow soldier he fell in love with stationed in North Africa in 1943. These are the blurred memories of an all-American affair in wartime:
Two lieutenants who were smart enough to know the score, but not smart enough to realize that we wanted to be alone. A screwball piano player — competition — miserable days and lonely nights. The cold, windy night we crawled through the window of a GI theatre and fell asleep on a cot backstage, locked in each other’s arms — the shock when we awoke and realized that miraculously we hadn’t been discovered. A fast drive to a cliff above the sea — pictures taken, and a stop amid the purple grapes and cool leaves of a vineyard.
Later this month, I’ve been honored with an invite to West Point’s gay group. There are times when I cannot truly comprehend the change my generation has lived through. So instead of comprehending, I’m just trying to live it – for all those who, for centuries, couldn’t. And for all those in the future who are already looking back and not understanding any of it. We fought for their insouciance. It hurts at times that they do not know or remember or stop to think what it was like in decades past. But that obliviousness is also a sign of greater and greater integration.
Which was the point, wasn’t it?
The Dish 