Authors: Nelson Demille
Tags: #Fiction, #General, #Suspense, #War stories, #Vietnam War; 1961-1975, #Vietnamese Conflict; 1961-1975, #Mystery fiction, #Legal
He shrugged.
She said, "Richard Farley is a potential witness for the prosecution. You will have the right to cross-examine him if 11
"How did Picard find him? How did Picard find Brandt?"
"Interesting. It seems that Picard, after his chance conversation with Sister Teresa in France, placed an ad in the locator section of the First Cavalry Division newspaper." She opened her briefcase and handed Tyson a photocopy of the locator section dated some two years before.
Tyson looked at the circled ad and read: Historian looking for veterans of Alpha Co., First Battalion, Seventh Cav. who served during the first three months of 1968. Specifically would want to hear from anyone from the second platoon who was at the battle of Misiricorde Hospital at Hue. Researching same for private client. All replies kept strictly confidential, anonymity assured.
Which, thought Tyson, was bullshit. He noticed a post 226 0 NELSON DEMILLE
office box address in Sag Harbor. He laid the ad on the coffee table.
She said, "The First Cavalry Division informs me that they send you that newspaper."
Tyson nodded. About the only thing he ever glanced at in that newspaper was the sometimes interesting locator section: men looking for lost buddies, women looking for wayward men, historians doing research-that sort of thing, But he'd obviously missed this one. Brandt had not. Fate.
He said, "Brandt and Farley answered this?"
"Actually only Brandt did. Sometime later, at Picard's urging, Brandt supplied a corroborating witness in the person of Richard Farley."
Tyson nodded. "How did Brandt know the whereabouts of Farley? Why did Brandt come forward in the first place?"
She shrugged. "When I spoke to Brandt he confined his answers to what he saw at Mis6ricorde Hospital. If he's subpoenaed, we'll discover the answers to your other questions. "
"Was Brandt perhaps the medic who treated Farley after he was hit?"
"Funny, but I asked that too. According to Farley, he was. "
"That's interesting. What else did Farley say?"
"Not much that was comprehensible. He seemed very distraught. He cried actually. "
Tyson's eyes met hers, and she turned away. Tyson stood. "Want another?"
"I haven't touched this one."
He walked to the refrigerator and opened it. "Hey, here's a bottle of champs." He popped the cork on a split of MoU and poured two glasses of the champagne, then carried the glasses back to the sitting area. "Here.
Join me in a toast."
She took the glass. "To what?"
Tyson raised his glass. "To Richard Farley and the other two million seven hundred thousand who returned to pollute our society with wasted limbs, damaged chromosomes, and sick minds."
She lowered her glass. "I won't drink to that."
"Well, I will." He raised his glass, then suddenly flung WORD OF HONOR * 227
it across the room where it shattered against the bar cabinet. He strode quickly out of the room into the bathroom and slammed the door.
Karen Harper sat motionless and listened to the water running. She noticed her hands were shaking. She reached for her briefcase, then released it, then reached for it again and stood.
Tyson came back into the room, motioned her into her seat, and sat down without a word.
She noticed he'd splashed water on his face and combed his hair. She detected the faint scent of a good cologne.
Tyson said, "Go on."
Karen Harper cleared her throat. She said, "May I have a cigarette?"
"You don't smoke."
"Sometimes I do."
He held his pack of cigarettes toward her, and she took one. He lit it, noticing that she held it awkwardly and drew on it as though she were sucking through a straw. She exhaled and continued, "As I indicated in our first meeting, I've located some members of your platoon. Two, to be exact.
Since I last spoke to you I've spoken to them by telephone. "
Tyson did not reply.
She continued, "One is a former squad leader named Paul Sadowski, who lives in Chicago, and the other is Anthony Scorello, who now lives in a suburb of San Francisco. Do you remember them?"
"Vaguely. "
"I thought men remembered who they served with in combat. "
"Macho myth."
Karen Harper regarded him for some time, then asked, "Do you want to know what Sadowski and Scorello said?"
"Sure." Tyson felt his heart thumping, and his mouth went dry. "Sure. What did they say?"
She leaned toward him and watched him, making no pretense of not noticing his unease. Tyson stared back at her, angry that she would play it out like this. He snapped, "Well, what did they say, Major?"
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"They Said, " she replied evenly, "exactly what you said." Their eyes met, and neither looked away. Tyson settled back in his chair. "So. There you have it."
"Have what?"
"My corroboration. Two against two. And if I offer sworn testimony in my own behalf-"
"Neither a grand jury nor a court-martial takes a vote of witnesses, Lieutenant. They would be interested, however, in who is perjuring himself."
Tyson felt his confidence returning and said curtly, "I would be interested in why Brandt and Farley would perjure themselves. "
She nodded appreciatively, drew on her cigarette, then stubbed it out. She said, "Whether it is perjury or truth, Mr. Tyson, I think that ultimately only you can tell me why they told Picard this story. Only you can tell me why Sadowski and Scorello told me a different story." She stared at him, but he did not reply.
She leaned across the cocktail table and lowered her voice. "Lies are destructive and spread like malignancy to the innocent and guilty alike. I want the lies to stop. I want you to put an end to them, if not for your own sake, then for the sake of the innocent and for the sake of your country. End the nightmare for everyone. Tell me what happened on 15
February 1968. What happened?"
Tyson spoke with no inflection in his voice. "If I know the truth, and I haven't told you, it's because I'm not convinced that you, the country, the Army, or anyone deserves to know the truth."
"What can I do to convince you?"
"Probably nothing. Maybe just get closer to it by stages. Truth should be hard-won. The truth is only recognized as the truth after all the lies are told and discounted. You won't apprr,ciate the truth or even begin to fathom it unless you take a tortuous road to find it."
She nodded. "But you will tell me? I mean, sometime after this is all over?
You will tell me, personally and privately, if not publicly?"
"I may. I may very well."
"But now I have to work hard."
"Yes. I had to work hard."
WORD OF HONOR 0 229
"Fair enough." She sat back in her chair.
Tyson looked at her in the dim light of the lamp. He had the sudden impression that she was more obsessed with this thing than she ought to be.
It occurred to him that if he could understand the source of her obsession he could outflank her and the Army.
Like every good interrogator, she had made a sudden switch from inquisitor to confessor. That often worked with the smug patriot or religious fanatic, happy in their martyrdom, or with the mentally deficient who didn't understand the consequences of confession. But since he didn't fit any of these types, he saw no reason to offer a confession. And it wasn't the truth they wanted anyway. The truth reflected more unfavorably on them, on the system, than it did on him. What they wanted was a final offering to Mars, a last scrap of flesh, because 57,939 sacrifices weren't enough, and the soothsayers had somehow divined that 57,940 was what was required to put the war to rest for all time. But, Tyson thought, since he didn't recall having started the war, he saw no good reason for sacrificing himself to end it. Marcy, he realized, would be pleased with that reasoning.
He said aloud but not to Karen Harper, "I made it home. I'm standing on home base. You can't tag me out now. What is the statute of limitations on being tagged out?"
Karen Harper stood and moved to the large picture window. She looked up Pennsylvania Avenue toward the lighted White House. She said, "There in that mansion lives a man who knows your name, who has memos on his desk with your name on them."
Tyson looked at her dark profile against the window.
She continued, "That man deals with issues of global importance and national survival every day. From time to time, because of the structure of our laws, he must personally deal with the cases of individual citizens. He is Commander in Chief of the armed forces, your boss and mine. He can grant clemency, immunity, and pardons. He can commission you into the armed forces, and he can rescind your commission. Somewhere along the line, he will have to make a decision regarding you-before, during, or after a court-martial." She turned her head toward Tyson. "Soon, in the next few days, he is scheduled to hold a press con-230 0 NELSON DEMILLE
ference. Your name will come up. He, or his aides, have prepared a brief statement regarding your case. " She added, "I strongly suspect that he wishes he'd never heard your name and hopes he never hears it again after that press conference. "
"That would make two of us."
"The nation, Mr. Tyson, wishes they'd never heard your name. "
"Then that makes all of us." He asked, "How about you?"
"I'm glad I met you. You are a remarkable man. . . .
She added self-consciously, "A man by whom I will probably judge other men."
He stared at her for a moment, then remarked, "Having said that, you probably want to leave."
"Should P-
He rubbed his lip contemplatively, then replied, "No. I don't think we will speak again like this, alone and without witnesses or counsel. We may as well both get the most out of it."
"Yes, there are certain dynamics that take place when only two people are present. . . . It gets complicated and phony when there is even one more person. We couldn't speak like this."
Tyson put his right leg on the cocktail table and abruptly pulled his trouser leg up, revealing his shin and knee. "Come here. Look at this."
There was something of the infantry officer in his voice that compelled her to respond quickly and automatically.
"Look. This is something I wouldn't do at a formal hearing. Closer. "
She stepped closer and looked down at the thick, curving purple scar.
"Not much as far as wounds go, Major. But when it happens to you, your stomach heaves and your skin goes all clammy."
She kept staring at the old wound as if studying it for some meaning.
Tyson said, "A shrink once spent two hours telling me about the synergistic effect of a physical scar on a mental
WORD OF HONOR e 231
scar. The great truth he revealed was this: The disfigurement and pain is a daily reminder of the traumatic episode." Tyson pulled the trouser leg down. "Well, no kidding."
She looked up and said, "A shrink?"
Tyson realized he should not have revealed that information. He replied,
"A friend. Cocktail party chatter."
She nodded, but he saw she didn't believe that. She asked, "Did Brandt treat you?"
Tyson glanced up at her but didn't reply.
"Did Brandt treat you?"
"No." Tyson stood. He paced to the center of the room, turned, and faced her.
"Why not? He was your platoon medic."
Tyson did not reply.
"Was he there at the time you were wounded?"
"Ask him."
"I'm asking you."
"Ask him!"
She was momentarily startled, then said, "All right. I will." At length she said, "In addition to the chapter in Picard's book that deals with the Mis6ricorde Hospital incident, Picard mentions you in two other chapters."
She stooped down and retrieved Picard's book from her briefcase, placing it under the light of the hanging lamp over the cocktail table. She said,
"You are mentioned in an early chapter-the firefight at Phu Lai on the first day of the Tet Offensive. Then you are mentioned at the end of the book, the aftermath of the battle of Hue. "
She opened the book to a marked place and, still kneeling, read: The battle was officially declared over on 26 February, and military communiqu6s spoke of I mopping-up operations." But the battle was not over just because the American military declared it to be. For the Marines and Army personnel still engaged in shooting matches with communist troops in and around the city, there was precious little difference between battle and "mopping up."
Ironically, one of the last American casualties
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at Hue was the man whose platoon had made one of the first contacts of the Tet Offensive, Lieutenant Benjamin Tyson.
Tyson's platoon, badly mauled in the market square at Phu Lai on 30
January, had gone on to Mis6ricorde Hospital on 15 February, then was helicoptered to a secure beach area for a few days of rest and refitting. But the battle of Hue raged on, and the barely fit platoon was helicoptered with the rest of Alpha Company, Fifth Battalion, Seventh Cavalry, to an area two kilometers north of Hue. The company, still under the command of Captain Roy Browder, patrolled south toward the city.
On 21 February, Alpha Company found themselves on the north bank of the Perfume River. Across the river was the Gia Hoi quarter of Hue, a triangle-shaped point of land nestled in a sharp bend of the river.
Most of the Gia Hoi suburb was still under communist control.
Captain Browder, apparently on his own initiative, commandeered a number of flimsy watercraft from the local villagers and crossed the river at dusk. After they reached the opposite bank, the company came into contact with an enemy unit dug into the high ground above the riverbank. The two groups exchanged fire in the growing darkness.
Several men of Alpha Company were wounded, and two men of Tyson's first platoon, Peter Santos and John Manelli, were killed. Also killed was Captain Browder.
At daybreak, Tyson, the last officer in the company, received radio orders making him Alpha Company's commander. The enemy had disappeared during the night, and Tyson moved Alpha Company away from the river into an area known as the Strawberry Patch. This was a semirural section of the Gia Hoi suburb of Hue, a place we would describe today as a gentrified exurb. There, in the Strawberry Patch, Alpha Company encountered thousands of wretched refugees. And