From VOCATION AND CAREER IN CONFLICT: AN ANTI-MEMOIR (March 25 (cont'd)):
The Psychiatrist
I asked to see a psychiatrist.
I said I couldn't stand military life any longer and was afraid I would do whatever I had to do to get out, and mess up my life forever, by getting an Undesirable, or a Bad Conduct Discharge. I couldn't any longer take the long hours, the lack of any privacy, any peace and quiet, I was living with savages, who got drunk and put their fists through the sheetrock, for fun. It was endless. The relentless din, the fear, the constant stress.
He said I wasn't crazy, there was nothing he could do for me, medically. Unless I had a nervous breakdown, there was nothing he could do. Worrying about having a nervous breakdown wasn't sufficient. I might have a nervous breakdown. But until I did, it wasn't a medical problem, it was a personal problem.
Go to the chaplain and get your T. S. card punched.
Tough shit.
My CO
My CO got a copy of the psychiatrist's report. So much for patient confidentiality.
Actually, the psychiatrist told my CO that, while there was nothing wrong with me clinically, I was probably too high-strung, too sensitive, for the off-duty circumstances I was forced to live in, daily, day-in and day-out, and that sooner or later I would either flip out or melt down, and be no good to anyone. If he, my CO, recommended a General Discharge, under honorable conditions, for unsuitability, an administrative discharge, the psychiatrist would not disagree with that decision.
My CO did not tell me this.
He said that he had talked to Sgt. Brown--I should have talked to Sgt. Brown, instead of asking to see a psychiatrist, but I was ashamed to admit I had reached the end of my tether--and Sgt. Brown said I was a valuable airman, worth salvaging, it was the chickenshit, the having to live with Category 4s that was getting to me, if I were transferred overseas, where I had my own room in a dormitory and houseboys to pull the shit details, or could shack up off base with a bargirl, who looked like Suzie Wong, I'd be all right.
My CO said he was going to transfer me to Okinawa.
My workload would lighten, my living conditions would improve, and my morale would return to normal. I would have esprit de corps again.