Matlovich arrived for his first tour of Vietnam on Thanksgiving Day, 1965. He was assigned to “Little Alamo,” a remote and embattled base ten miles south of the demilitarized zone. Soon he went to work creating a new system of perimeter lighting that warded off nighttime sniper attacks from the Vietcong. One night, heavy fire knocked out the lights and Matlovich went out to repair the damage, crawling from light to light on his belly, replacing and repairing the wiring, under heavy machine-gun fire. For his performance, the Air Force awarded him their Commendation Medal and the Bronze Star in March 1966, arare achievement for a mere airman first class.

Matlovich had demonstrated his courage and earned the respect of one and all, but he had not fulfilled his fondest hope—to get over his deep longings. He was always getting crushes on his buddies. Now his fantasies were that someday one would reciprocate. Unfortunately, he was drawn to people who shared his conservative political and religithe very people most likely to reject him.

By July 1968, when Matlovich flew into Cam Rahn Bay for his second tour of Vietnam, there was nothing he wanted more than a lover—someone who would make a place for him in his world. That was still the fundamental problem, he realized: He had not found his place.

Then, in the summer of 1968 in Vietnam, Matlovich listened to a Mormon missionary and learned about the Mormon celestial hierarchy that extended from the upper reaches of heaven, to earth, and into hell. Like Catholicism, Mormonism was an authoritarian religion, which appealed to Matlovich, as did the belief that the United States was a divine nation destined to help solve the problems of the world. Even his military service was part of a godly plan in supporting America’s destiny, according to the Book of Mormon. Matlovich believed he had found the answer, and in the warm blue waters of the South China Sea, he was baptized a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints.