James Kretschmer

Opinion contributor

Editor's note: On Monday, Aug. 5, lawyers filed a lawsuit against the Boy Scouts of America on behalf of a client alleging sexual abuse by his former scoutmaster. The lawyers also represent nearly 800 other clients alleging abuse while scouting. The author of this column is one of those other nearly 800 clients. This column was originally published June 10, 2019.

I was about 6 years old when I joined the Cub Scouts in 1969. I adored going to the Cub Scout meetings — it felt important and it was exciting learning new skills and listening to stories of how to be a better person. Lessons centered around patriotism, service, sportsmanship and spirituality.

Like most young boys, my favorite time was attending the campouts and being in nature. We got to canoe, fish, shoot bows, tie knots, start fires and so many other things. I always strove to be the first one to earn a new badge or acknowledgement and, when I finally grew old enough to become a Boy Scout, my sense of wonder and excitement for the organization only deepened. I was learning how to be a better citizen, the best person I could possibly be. The world felt limitless.

My father was stationed at Fairchild Air Force Base, and so we lived near Spokane, Washington. The summer I was 12, I finally got the chance to go to a weeklong Boy Scout camp. At one point, the scoutmaster presented a compass challenge game. Written on a piece of paper for each of us was a series of very specific instructions we needed to follow in order to find our treasure. I wanted to be the best Scout in the troop, so it was important to me that I finish the challenge first. I studied the instructions and followed my compass to perfection. It led me to my scoutmaster's tent.

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He smiled and nodded when he saw me arrive first: There I was — the winner, his winner — the best Boy Scout around. Winning that game unfortunately changed my life forever.

A child overtaken by an adult

That night, the sky was black and the stars sparkled. I was sleeping soundly, alone in my little tent, but awoke to a strange feeling of hot breath on my neck and someone moving his hands all over my body, on the front of my pajamas. Although it was dark I knew it was my scoutmaster; I recognized his voice in his breathing.

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I felt my throat tighten and a wave of panic overtook my body. I was still, not knowing what to do. Do I call out and scream? Do I jump up and run? To where? Maybe, I thought, if I lay still and close my eyes and cry he will just go away.

I tensed up and became angry with myself for winning the earlier challenge. If I had come in second place, maybe he wouldn’t be here right now. This was my fault for wanting to come in first place so badly. This was my punishment and I deserved it. Otherwise why would it be happening to me?

All I could do was stay frozen and act as though I was asleep and then maybe he would stop and I could pretend like it never happened in the morning. Tomorrow I would wake up and say to myself, "This was just a bad dream," and then it would all go away.

This is what it is like to be a child overtaken by an abusive adult.

Unfortunately, this was just the start of the trauma I suffered at the hands of this scoutmaster. The abuse continued for more than three months. Finally, I told my parents what was happening during my scouting trips. They listened, shifting in their seats. At first, their eyes stared at me in disbelief, but then they fell to the floor as I described those nights with my scoutmaster in the tent.

My father said it was time for me to quit scouting. My stepmother suggested that we should keep this information to ourselves and never speak of it again. They agreed that we should move on with our lives. And, like the first night in the tent, I realized that if we all just closed our eyes, looked away and pretended like nothing was happening, maybe it would all go away and in the morning we would call it a bad dream.

Trust lost, trauma gained

But as I learned over the decades, this trauma never goes away. Children like me need counseling. More important, society needs to go after pedophiles and the organizations harboring them, to keep more children from being harmed.

As an adult, my relationships suffered. I joined the Marine Corps and barely kept in contact with my family. I called home maybe a couple of times a year; I sent the occasional letter, mostly around the holidays. I also married and divorced multiple times. At the time, I told myself this was because I was so occupied with being a Marine, but I realize now that I was closing myself off and keeping other people away from me — especially the ones who wanted my love. I had no love or trust to give. How could I learn to love somebody else when I didn’t really love myself?

Around my 40th birthday, I really started feeling the loneliness and despair that comes from building walls around yourself.

As crazy as it sounds, it never occurred to me that it wasn't my own fault. This is what it is like to be a child: You look to blame yourself and protect the adults around you. It took me many decades to come to terms with the fact that the man in my tent — the pedophile breathing on my neck — is the guilty one. Shame on him for hurting that little boy.

This cannot be tolerated ever again. I urge everyone who has been a victim to become a survivor, just as I have. Speak up and tell people what happened. The trauma I suffered at the hands of a scoutmaster will always be with me. But only by coming forward can reform be possible.

James Kretschmer lives in Houston. He connected with other alleged victims of sexual abuse through abusedinscouting.com.