Allen Schindler has put a face on the debate over lifting the ban on gays in the military.
Schindler is the Chicago Heights sailor who was brutally murdered in Japan last October-allegedly by shipmates-just a month after he told his officers he was gay.
To the gay community, he is a hero. To the military establishment he is an extreme example of why homosexuals don’t belong in the service.
But to his mother, Dorothy Hajdys, he is just a boy, killed under circumstances no one has explained to her. Was his murder random or premeditated? Does the guilt end with the people who beat him? Or does it go higher, to those officers aboard the USS Belleau Wood who may have known that Schindler’s life was in danger and did nothing to protect him? Who may have even condoned violence against gays and now may be engaged in a cover-up?
Every time she has turned to the Navy for answers, she has been met with silence, indifference and, she believes, lies.
Allen Schindler is an unlikely hero. Only 22 when he was killed, he was a gentle person. Friends say he loved animals and cried when one of his pet lizards died. On his days off, he visited pet shops and played video games. He joined the Navy in 1988, after graduating from Bloom Township High School.
In high school Schindler had girlfriends, and one of his mother’s proudest pictures is of her handsome son and his prom date.
Yet, at some time during his four years in the Navy, his homosexuality became obvious to him.
Some say the military attracts a disproportionate number of young men who are fighting the growing awareness of their homosexuality.
“They see the recruiting posters with the macho Marines and think the military will make them straight,” says Gregg Monsma, head of the San Diego Veterans Association, a gay advocacy group.
In May 1991, Schindler confided to his mother that he was gay and while in San Diego, where he spent much of his time in the Navy, he lived a gay lifestyle.
Although the military bans homosexuals, that has never kept them out of the service, a fact the military readily acknowledges.
In fact, gay servicemen form their own “informal chain of command,” according to a recently retired Navy captain. “This is a major problem because as a commander you are trying to put together a cohesive team, and they are not part of the team.”
Until Schindler got to the USS Belleau Wood in December 1991, his sexuality was not a problem for him. He liked the Navy so much he encouraged his younger brother, William, 17, to enlist and talked about making the Navy his career. He extended his four-year tour of duty by six months so he could be on the final voyage of the World War II aircraft carrier USS Midway.
Ricardo Gonzalez, a former sailor, served with Schindler on the Midway. He says Schindler was “actively gay” and some of their shipmates were aware of it, but no one bothered him. Some military assignments are safer for homosexuals than others.
“Any commander can create a safe environment for gays if he wants to,” says former Navy officer Jim Woodward, a counselor with the Lesbian and Gay Men’s Community Center in San Diego. “Medical commands, for the most part, are pretty safe. Medical officers are a different breed than line officers. They’re less conservative.”
Gays in the military exchange stories of safe havens. Woodward says the USS Constellation has a group that calls itself “The Connie Queens.”
“These openly gay members are an ongoing tradition,” Woodward says.
“There are places where, if you do your job, they leave you alone,” says Jim Jennings, a former sailor who was a friend of Schindler’s. “And others where they make your life hell.”
If there are safe havens for gays in the military, there are also danger spots. The USS Belleau Wood, an amphibious assault ship that carries nearly 1,000 men, is one of them. The quarters are tight, and sailors sleep in bunks stacked three high. Proximity often is used as one of the major arguments against allowing homosexuals in the military.
The Belleau Wood, based in Sasebo, Japan, was known for trouble. When the ship pulled into port in September, some Japanese held protests. They had signs saying, “Go Home Belleau Wood.”
“I probably agree with them,” Schindler wrote in his journal.
A foreigner familiar with the area agrees. “The Japanese are very peaceful people, they have very little crime, if any, and they didn’t want these guys coming into town and causing a lot of trouble,” says Eric Underwood, a performer at Huis Ten Bosch, an amusement park just outside Sasebo. “Every time the Belleau Wood pulled into port, cars were overturned, vending machines were vandalized, shops were robbed.”
“When the Belleau Wood pulled in, it was like being in East L.A.,” says Rod Burton, another performer at the park. “There were major gangs on the ship, and it was scary. You could see a difference between the guys off the Belleau Wood and the ones off the other ships, the way they dressed, the way they hung out. They were a rough group.”
There was a rough group aboard the Belleau Wood that made life hell for Schindler. From the time he was assigned to the ship in December 1991, while it was still in San Diego, until his death in Japan in October 1992, he complained bitterly about life aboard ship. He told his aunt that two of his shipmates tried to jump him. He told friends he was pushed and punched. He called the ship “the Helleau Wood” and told his mother he didn’t have to worry about dying and going to hell because he was already there. When she asked why, he was vague.
“He didn’t want to worry me,” Hajdys says.
But he was more open with his friends in San Diego. He told them he was being harassed because of his sexuality.
“He said he’d be walking and guys would say, `We’ve got to do something about these faggots on the ship,’ ” Jennings says.
“Once, in mess hall, he said a bunch of guys ganged up around him and began picking on him. He said it was getting worse and worse,” a friend says.
More Top Picks Best Cupping Therapy Sets For Home Use
Several of Schindler’s friends say he told them he complained to his superiors about the sexual harassment. Jennings says Schindler told him he went to his division officer. “Al said he listened to him and maybe something would be done.”
“In March or April of ’92, he complained about it through the chain of command,” Gonzalez says. “He told me there was a special meeting with everyone who worked with him. And it was made clear that no one was supposed to hassle him anymore. They were supposed to leave him alone.”
This story is substantiated by Christiane Torres, who ran Cafe Pigalle, a coffeehouse in San Diego where gay servicemen, including Schindler, hung out. Schindler called her “Mom.”
“He told me two or three times that his life had been threatened,” says Torres. “One time he said, `Mom, I want to talk to you.’ He was crying. He said he couldn’t take it anymore and he wanted to fight back. I said, `Don’t do that.’ I said, `Go to your officers.’ The next time he was in, he was very happy. He told me had talked to his superiors and the guys who were causing the trouble were reprimanded.”
An affidavit presented to naval authorities in San Diego is further evidence that Schindler complained to his superiors and named names. It is written by an anonymous Navy serviceman who says he would testify in court if he were assured there would be no repercussions, “either personal or professional.”
The serviceman states that he met Schindler in June 1992 at the Navy Alcohol Rehabilitation Center in San Diego. They spent eight weeks together, their bunks 10 feet apart, in “this intensive program where participants are urged to speak freely about matters that are troubling them.”
According to the affidavit, Schindler told the group he didn’t belong in a rehab program. He said that his “troubles” began when he told Capt. Douglas Bradt, the commanding officer on the Belleau Wood, that he was being harassed by fellow crew members because he was gay. “He described telling his CO that crew members had glued his locker shut and that they regularly said such things as `There’s a faggot on this ship and he should die.’ He said that his division officer was not sympathetic to this complaint.” Schindler says he was sent to the center so things could “cool off.”
Yet the Navy steadfastly denies that Schindler ever complained of any harassment. According to a press release dated Jan. 22, 1993, “Belleau Wood authorities were not aware of any harassment, threats or physical abuse directed at Schindler. Schindler was personally counseled by the commanding officer and the ship’s chaplain that any such threats must be reported immediately.”
And that is about all that the Navy, which is investigating the ship as well as Schindler’s murder, will say. Repeated requests for information have been turned down by Navy spokesman Cmdr. Mike Todd. Although Todd says every sailor has the right to discuss his experiences, a sailor with knowledge of the Schindler case told the Tribune he was told not to talk to reporters. Interviews with sailors on the Belleau Wood are impossible because the ship is at sea and the Navy won’t say when it will return.
In addition, the Navy has refused to release the Japanese police report on the murder. Former Army Staff Sgt. Miriam Ben-Shalom, head of the Gay, Lesbian and Bisexual Veterans of America, says an “agent of an investigative branch of the service” told her the report gives an entirely different version of the incident than the Navy’s. The Japanese Embassy has not returned phone calls.
This stonewalling is not surprising to William Bracken, an Indiana attorney who is representing the family of a deceased soldier, Terry Stephenson, in a suit against the Army. The Army alleges Stephenson was killed by another soldier, Timothy Miller, who then committed suicide.
“This is all perfectly typical,” Bracken says. “In our case, we had to wait over one year before we got the Army’s final investigative report. And when we got it, it didn’t include any of the incriminating documents that we got from other sources, documents that implicated the Army in gross negligence and misconduct.”
Like Schindler, Miller was a homosexual, and Bracken says that is the root of the problem. “The military’s attitude is, `They’re gay, so whatever happens to them, they deserve it. They’ve got it coming.’ “
Schindler’s mother has consulted Bracken about filing a wrongful death and civil rights suit against the Navy.
It is ironic that Schindler’s death can be used by both sides in the debate over lifting the ban against gays in the military. Those in favor of lifting it, such as gay advocate Woodward, say the ban “allows sick people to rationalize their behavior.”
Those against lifting it, such as Senate Armed Services Committee Chairman Sam Nunn (D-Ga.), warn that without the ban, there could be “violence against homosexuals.” President Clinton announced a compromise with military and congressional leaders Friday that essentially allows six months to work out details for lifting the ban. In any event, the action comes too late for Allen Schindler.
Schindler was not the only homosexual on the Belleau Wood. There’s a bar in Sasebo called Captain’s where entertainers, many of them gay, from the amusement park would mingle with gay sailors off the Belleau Wood. The entertainers stayed at the Fuji International Hotel, and the desk clerk, Haruko Yamakawa, saw the entertainers and the sailors go upstairs.
In his diary, Schindler wrote about “encounters” with other sailors on the ship.
Gay serviceman are pressured to “give up” other gay servicemen. Last year, after two sailors from the command ship Blue Ridge were caught having sex, they were forced to name other gay sailors, leading to what gay advocates have called a “witch hunt.”
Nor was Schindler the only one aboard the Belleau Wood to be harassed. One young sailor told the performers that he had been hit in the head and punched in the stomach while he was sleeping and that “crotch-watcher” had been written on his bed. After Schindler’s death, the Navy acknowledged that another sailor was removed from the ship for his own safety.
Schindler was well aware of how dangerous the Belleau Wood was. On Oct. 2, he wrote in his diary, “More people are finding out about me. It scares me a little you never know who would want to injure or cease my existence.” It was dangerous for the other homosexuals, as well. At one point, when Schindler was debating whether to leave the Navy, he wrote. “I’m not sure if I really want to do that. Who knows if I do stay, someone here might need my help in a certain situation and I might be the one to secure that one’s life.”
On Sept. 24, Allen Schindler did what he had told his friends he would do if life on the Belleau Wood got bad enough. He went to the ship’s executive officer and declared himself homosexual so he could obtain an administrative discharge.
He wrote in his journal, “I admitted my true self and told him, `If you can’t be yourself then who are you.’ ” The Navy says the ship’s commanding officer was informed that same day.
On Sept. 25, Schindler was put on restriction for 30 days for missing the ship when Hurricane Iniki hit Hawaii and the Belleau Wood pulled out to sea ahead of schedule. He was allowed off the ship only to attend meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous.
His first day off restriction was Oct. 25. He called his friend Gonzalez and they talked for 45 minutes. Gonzalez says Schindler was in a “very good mood. He was about to leave the ship and come back to the States. Most of the conversation was about his future plans, whether he’d stay in San Diego or go back to Illinois.”
Schindler also told Gonzalez he was happy because he had met an airman on the Belleau Wood and they had a date to go to the movies Oct. 27.
“He said he was blond; he liked blonds.”
Allen Schindler was killed Oct. 27. He never kept his date with his blond airman. Or maybe he did.
Both the men arrested after Schindler’s death are airmen. From their pictures, both appear to be blond. The Navy told Hajdys both went to the movies that day.
Schindler called his mother the morning of Oct. 27 and told her he’d be home by Christmas. He talked about going to college when he got out. Early that evening he went to an A.A. meeting. He left the meeting about 9 p.m. He had plans to see his entertainer friends late that evening but he never made it.
At 11 p.m., while he was using the urinal in a public restroom in a park three blocks from the base, he was attacked.
The beating Schindler suffered was so severe that when his mother saw his body, she didn’t recognize him. “His eyes were where his ears should be, and his nose was even with his mouth,” she says. She had to check his tattoos to make sure it was him.
Two days after the attack, the Navy arrested two men in connection with the murder, Airman Apprentice Terry Helvey, 20, of Eloise, Mich., and Navy Airman Charles Vins, 20, who was born in Sturgis, Mich., and raised in Illinois.
The first report of the attack against Schindler, dated Oct. 27, says “two enlisted crew members witnessed a fight between three Caucasian individuals. … The witnesses observed two individuals assaulting a third person. As the witnesses approached the scene, the two individuals conducting the assault fled.”
A second report, dated Oct. 29, says “two suspects in the assault have been apprehended.” It says both underwent questioning, which resulted in “the confession by one suspect and the implication of the second suspect as a conspirator/accessory to the assault.” According to another Navy memo, both suspects had suffered “minor injuries” and their clothes were to be used as evidence.
Vins was charged with failure to report an offense, concealing a serious offense and resisting arrest. On Nov. 23, he was convicted by a general court-martial, held in Yokosuka, Japan, and given a bad-conduct discharge and a one-year sentence, which was reduced to four months in return for his testimony against Helvey.
He testified against Helvey in a pretrial investigative hearing that was concluded Jan. 22, in Yokosuka. It was closed to the media. Vins appears to have been the only witness. The Navy won’t say what happened to the two original witnesses. Charges have not been filed against Helvey. According to the Navy, investigating officer Lt. Cmdr. Erick Armstrong is considering the evidence and will make a recommendation on how to proceed to the “convening authority.”
That convening authority is Capt. Douglas Bradt, the commanding officer of the Belleau Wood.
By Cheryl Lavin
and Merrill Goozner
Allen Schindler has put a face on the debate over lifting the ban on gays in the military.
Schindler is the Chicago Heights sailor who was brutally murdered in Japan last October-allegedly by shipmates-just a month after he told his officers he was gay.
To the gay community, he is a hero. To the military establishment he is an extreme example of why homosexuals don’t belong in the service.
But to his mother, Dorothy Hajdys, he is just a boy, killed under circumstances no one has explained to her. Was his murder random or premeditated? Does the guilt end with the people who beat him? Or does it go higher, to those officers aboard the USS Belleau Wood who may have known that Schindler’s life was in danger and did nothing to protect him? Who may have even condoned violence against gays and now may be engaged in a cover-up?
Every time she has turned to the Navy for answers, she has been met with silence, indifference and, she believes, lies.
Allen Schindler is an unlikely hero. Only 22 when he was killed, he was a gentle person. Friends say he loved animals and cried when one of his pet lizards died. On his days off, he visited pet shops and played video games. He joined the Navy in 1988, after graduating from Bloom Township High School.
In high school Schindler had girlfriends, and one of his mother’s proudest pictures is of her handsome son and his prom date.
Yet, at some time during his four years in the Navy, his homosexuality became obvious to him.
Some say the military attracts a disproportionate number of young men who are fighting the growing awareness of their homosexuality.
“They see the recruiting posters with the macho Marines and think the military will make them straight,” says
See Sailor, pg. 10
.
.
.
Gregg Monsma, head of the San Diego Veterans Association, a gay advocacy group.
In May 1991, Schindler confided to his mother that he was gay and while in San Diego, where he spent much of his time in the Navy, he lived a gay lifestyle.
Although the military bans homosexuals, that has never kept them out of the service, a fact the military readily acknowledges.
In fact, gay servicemen form their own “informal chain of command,” according to a recently retired Navy captain. “This is a major problem because as a commander you are trying to put together a cohesive team, and they are not part of the team.”
Until Schindler got to the USS Belleau Wood in December 1991, his sexuality was not a problem for him. He liked the Navy so much he encouraged his younger brother, William, 17, to enlist and talked about making the Navy his career. He extended his four-year tour of duty by six months so he could be on the final voyage of the World War II aircraft carrier USS Midway.
Ricardo Gonzalez, a former sailor, served with Schindler on the Midway. He says Schindler was “actively gay” and some of their shipmates were aware of it, but no one bothered him. Some military assignments are safer for homosexuals than others.
More Top Picks Best Cold Weather Sleeping Bags
“Any commander can create a safe environment for gays if he wants to,” says former Navy officer Jim Woodward, a counselor with the Lesbian and Gay Men’s Community Center in San Diego. “Medical commands, for the most part, are pretty safe. Medical officers are a different breed than line officers. They’re less conservative.”
Gays in the military exchange stories of safe havens. Woodward says the USS Constellation has a group that calls itself “The Connie Queens.”
“These openly gay members are an ongoing tradition,” Woodward says.
“There are places where, if you do your job, they leave you alone,” says Jim Jennings, a former sailor who was a friend of Schindler’s. “And others where they make your life hell.”
If there are safe havens for gays in the military, there are also danger spots. The USS Belleau Wood, an amphibious assault ship that carries nearly 1,000 men, is one of them. The quarters are tight, and sailors sleep in bunks stacked three high. Proximity often is used as one of the major arguments against allowing homosexuals in the military.
The Belleau Wood, based in Sasebo, Japan, was known for trouble. When the ship pulled into port in September, some Japanese held protests. They had signs saying, “Go Home Belleau Wood.”
“I probably agree with them,” Schindler wrote in his journal.
A foreigner familiar with the area agrees. “The Japanese are very peaceful people, they have very little crime, if any, and they didn’t want these guys coming into town and causing a lot of trouble,” says Eric Underwood, a performer at Huis Ten Bosch, an amusement park just outside Sasebo. “Every time the Belleau Wood pulled into port, cars were overturned, vending machines were vandalized, shops were robbed.”
“When the Belleau Wood pulled in, it was like being in East L.A.,” says Rod Burton, another performer at the park. “There were major gangs on the ship, and it was scary. You could see a difference between the guys off the Belleau Wood and the ones off the other ships, the way they dressed, the way they hung out. They were a rough group.”
There was a rough group aboard the Belleau Wood that made life hell for Schindler. From the time he was assigned to the ship in December 1991, while it was still in San Diego, until his death in Japan in October 1992, he complained bitterly about life aboard ship. He told his aunt that two of his shipmates tried to jump him. He told friends he was pushed and punched. He called the ship “the Helleau Wood” and told his mother he didn’t have to worry about dying and going to hell because he was already there. When she asked why, he was vague.
“He didn’t want to worry me,” Hajdys says.
But he was more open with his friends in San Diego. He told them he was being harassed because of his sexuality.
“He said he’d be walking and guys would say, `We’ve got to do something about these faggots on the ship,’ ” Jennings says.
“Once, in mess hall, he said a bunch of guys ganged up around him and began picking on him. He said it was getting worse and worse,” a friend says.
Several of Schindler’s friends say he told them he complained to his superiors about the sexual harassment. Jennings says Schindler told him he went to his division officer. “Al said he listened to him and maybe something would be done.”
“In March or April of ’92, he complained about it through the chain of command,” Gonzalez says. “He told me there was a special meeting with everyone who worked with him. And it was made clear that no one was supposed to hassle him anymore. They were supposed to leave him alone.”
This story is substantiated by Christiane Torres, who ran Cafe Pigalle, a coffeehouse in San Diego where gay servicemen, including Schindler, hung out. Schindler called her “Mom.”
“He told me two or three times that his life had been threatened,” says Torres. “One time he said, `Mom, I want to talk to you.’ He was crying. He said he couldn’t take it anymore and he wanted to fight back. I said, `Don’t do that.’ I said, `Go to your officers.’ The next time he was in, he was very happy. He told me had talked to his superiors and the guys who were causing the trouble were reprimanded.”
An affidavit presented to naval authorities in San Diego is further evidence that Schindler complained to his superiors and named names. It is written by an anonymous Navy serviceman who says he would testify in court if he were assured there would be no repercussions, “either personal or professional.”
The serviceman states that he met Schindler in June 1992 at the Navy Alcohol Rehabilitation Center in San Diego. They spent eight weeks together, their bunks 10 feet apart, in “this intensive program where participants are urged to speak freely about matters that are troubling them.”
According to the affidavit, Schindler told the group he didn’t belong in a rehab program. He said that his “troubles” began when he told Capt. Douglas Bradt, the commanding officer on the Belleau Wood, that he was being harassed by fellow crew members because he was gay. “He described telling his CO that crew members had glued his locker shut and that they regularly said such things as `There’s a faggot on this ship and he should die.’ He said that his division officer was not sympathetic to this complaint.” Schindler says he was sent to the center so things could “cool off.”
Yet the Navy steadfastly denies that Schindler ever complained of any harassment. According to a press release dated Jan. 22, 1993, “Belleau Wood authorities were not aware of any harassment, threats or physical abuse directed at Schindler. Schindler was personally counseled by the commanding officer and the ship’s chaplain that any such threats must be reported immediately.”
And that is about all that the Navy, which is investigating the ship as well as Schindler’s murder, will say. Repeated requests for information have been turned down by Navy spokesman Cmdr. Mike Todd. Although Todd says every sailor has the right to discuss his experiences, a sailor with knowledge of the Schindler case told the Tribune he was told not to talk to reporters. Interviews with sailors on the Belleau Wood are impossible because the ship is at sea and the Navy won’t say when it will return.
In addition, the Navy has refused to release the Japanese police report on the murder. Former Army Staff Sgt. Miriam Ben-Shalom, head of the Gay, Lesbian and Bisexual Veterans of America, says an “agent of an investigative branch of the service” told her the report gives an entirely different version of the incident than the Navy’s. The Japanese Embassy has not returned phone calls.
This stonewalling is not surprising to William Bracken, an Indiana attorney who is representing the family of a deceased soldier, Terry Stephenson, in a suit against the Army. The Army alleges Stephenson was killed by another soldier, Timothy Miller, who then committed suicide.
“This is all perfectly typical,” Bracken says. “In our case, we had to wait over one year before we got the Army’s final investigative report. And when we got it, it didn’t include any of the incriminating documents that we got from other sources, documents that implicated the Army in gross negligence and misconduct.”
Like Schindler, Miller was a homosexual, and Bracken says that is the root of the problem. “The military’s attitude is, `They’re gay, so whatever happens to them, they deserve it. They’ve got it coming.’ “
Schindler’s mother has consulted Bracken about filing a wrongful death and civil rights suit against the Navy.
It is ironic that Schindler’s death can be used by both sides in the debate over lifting the ban against gays in the military. Those in favor of lifting it, such as gay advocate Woodward, say the ban “allows sick people to rationalize their behavior.”
Those against lifting it, such as Senate Armed Services Committee Chairman Sam Nunn (D-Ga.), warn that without the ban, there could be “violence against homosexuals.” President Clinton announced a compromise with military and congressional leaders Friday that essentially allows six months to work out details for lifting the ban. In any event, the action comes too late for Allen Schindler.
Schindler was not the only homosexual on the Belleau Wood. There’s a bar in Sasebo called Captain’s where entertainers, many of them gay, from the amusement park would mingle with gay sailors off the Belleau Wood. The entertainers stayed at the Fuji International Hotel, and the desk clerk, Haruko Yamakawa, saw the entertainers and the sailors go upstairs.
In his diary, Schindler wrote about “encounters” with other sailors on the ship.
Gay serviceman are pressured to “give up” other gay servicemen. Last year, after two sailors from the command ship Blue Ridge were caught having sex, they were forced to name other gay sailors, leading to what gay advocates have called a “witch hunt.”
Nor was Schindler the only one aboard the Belleau Wood to be harassed. One young sailor told the performers that he had been hit in the head and punched in the stomach while he was sleeping and that “crotch-watcher” had been written on his bed. After Schindler’s death, the Navy acknowledged that another sailor was removed from the ship for his own safety.
Schindler was well aware of how dangerous the Belleau Wood was. On Oct. 2, he wrote in his diary, “More people are finding out about me. It scares me a little you never know who would want to injure or cease my existence.” It was dangerous for the other homosexuals, as well. At one point, when Schindler was debating whether to leave the Navy, he wrote. “I’m not sure if I really want to do that. Who knows if I do stay, someone here might need my help in a certain situation and I might be the one to secure that one’s life.”
On Sept. 24, Allen Schindler did what he had told his friends he would do if life on the Belleau Wood got bad enough. He went to the ship’s executive officer and declared himself homosexual so he could obtain an administrative discharge.
He wrote in his journal, “I admitted my true self and told him, `If you can’t be yourself then who are you.’ ” The Navy says the ship’s commanding officer was informed that same day.
On Sept. 25, Schindler was put on restriction for 30 days for missing the ship when Hurricane Iniki hit Hawaii and the Belleau Wood pulled out to sea ahead of schedule. He was allowed off the ship only to attend meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous.
His first day off restriction was Oct. 25. He called his friend Gonzalez and they talked for 45 minutes. Gonzalez says Schindler was in a “very good mood. He was about to leave the ship and come back to the States. Most of the conversation was about his future plans, whether he’d stay in San Diego or go back to Illinois.”
Schindler also told Gonzalez he was happy because he had met an airman on the Belleau Wood and they had a date to go to the movies Oct. 27.
“He said he was blond; he liked blonds.”
Allen Schindler was killed Oct. 27. He never kept his date with his blond airman. Or maybe he did.
Both the men arrested after Schindler’s death are airmen. From their pictures, both appear to be blond. The Navy told Hajdys both went to the movies that day.
Schindler called his mother the morning of Oct. 27 and told her he’d be home by Christmas. He talked about going to college when he got out. Early that evening he went to an A.A. meeting. He left the meeting about 9 p.m. He had plans to see his entertainer friends late that evening but he never made it.
At 11 p.m., while he was using the urinal in a public restroom in a park three blocks from the base, he was attacked.
The beating Schindler suffered was so severe that when his mother saw his body, she didn’t recognize him. “His eyes were where his ears should be, and his nose was even with his mouth,” she says. She had to check his tattoos to make sure it was him.
Two days after the attack, the Navy arrested two men in connection with the murder, Airman Apprentice Terry Helvey, 20, of Eloise, Mich., and Navy Airman Charles Vins, 20, who was born in Sturgis, Mich., and raised in Illinois.
The first report of the attack against Schindler, dated Oct. 27, says “two enlisted crew members witnessed a fight between three Caucasian individuals. . . . The witnesses observed two individuals assaulting a third person. As the witnesses approached the scene, the two individuals conducting the assault fled.”
A second report, dated Oct. 29, says “two suspects in the assault have been apprehended.” It says both underwent questioning, which resulted in “the confession by one suspect and the implication of the second suspect as a conspirator/accessory to the assault.” According to another Navy memo, both suspects had suffered “minor injuries” and their clothes were to be used as evidence.
Vins was charged with failure to report an offense, concealing a serious offense and resisting arrest. On Nov. 23, he was convicted by a general court-martial, held in Yokosuka, Japan, and given a bad-conduct discharge and a one-year sentence, which was reduced to four months in return for his testimony against Helvey.
He testified against Helvey in a pretrial investigative hearing that was concluded Jan. 22, in Yokosuka. It was closed to the media. Vins appears to have been the only witness. The Navy won’t say what happened to the two original witnesses. Charges have not been filed against Helvey. According to the Navy, investigating officer Lt. Cmdr. Erick Armstrong is considering the evidence and will make a recommendation on how to proceed to the “convening authority.”
That convening authority is Capt. Douglas Bradt, the commanding officer of the Belleau Wood.