Word of Honor (65 page)

The radio came alive again. "Mustang OneSix-India, this is Six-India, " the voice said, identifying itself as Browder's radio operator. "Put your Six on for my Six, please." Kelly hesitated, then handed the radiophone to Tyson. The bunker fell silent as Browder's voice came on in those low, distinct tones used at night in the field. "OneSix, this is Six. I need some details of your contact for Big Six."

Tyson licked his lips and spoke into the phone, "Roger. Can't it wait until morning? We're trying to be quiet here."

"Roger, that. I'll advise Battalion. You people okay?"

"Roger. But I've got listening posts out there. Hear lots of movement. If we make further contact, you'll hear from us loud and clear. Mean-504 0 NELSON DEMILLE

while, negative sit rep," said Tyson in what he hoped sounded like an impatient tone.

"Roger. Keep cool. Dawn's coming."

"Right, over. "

"Roger, out."

Tyson handed the phone back to Kelly. Kelly said, "As we approached the hospital, we took heavy fire. Peterson and Moody were hit. We took cover and returned the fire. There was a sizable enemy force in the building.

We didn't know it was a hospital. Lieutenant?"

Tyson spoke in the quiet bunker. "There was a sizable enemy force in the building. I decided on an assault. We fired and maneuvered toward the structure. We got inside and engaged the enemy in room-to-roorn fighting.

Sadowski?"

"We got inside and engaged the enemy in roomto-room fighting. DeTonq?"

"We got inside and engaged the enemy in roomto-room fighting. Beltran?"

"We got inside and engaged the enemy in roomto-room fighting. Kalane?"

The litany continued as Tyson listened. When it came around to him again he added another line and again the congregation responded.

The hours passed, partly in silent thought, partly in restructuring the details of what had happened inside the hospital. Tyson noticed that the ponchos that shrouded the two bodies were bloating like balloons. He noticed, too, that the men had become lethargic-a natural result of fatigue, marijuana, and post-stress behavior. They also seemed receptive to anything he said. Hour by hour he was regaining control.

A false dawn, peculiar to the tropics, broke through the east-facing gun slit, then it became very dark, the darkest hour. Tyson said, "The structure was completely burned, and there are no weapons or bodies to turn in. But I estimate an enemy body count of twelve."

WORD OF HONOR 9 505

Kelly said, "That sounds about right. Ski?"

Sadowski actually seemed to think about it before replying, "Are you counting the two that Kalane killed with the frag?"

Kalane said, "I reported those two, didn't 1, Lieutenant?"

"Yes," replied Tyson, "I have those two." Tyson lit his cigarette and drank some tepid canteen water. He said, "We pursued the fleeing enemy toward Hue but lost their trail."

"Right," said DeTonq. "I spotted this old bunker half covered with growth, and we decided to check it out."

"We moved toward it carefully," said Beltran. "Walker, he throws a concussion grenade inside, then we rush it."

"It was empty," said Walker. "So we decided to hole up here 'cause we were pretty beat."

Tyson watched the gun slits. The fires of the night faded as the sky lightened with the new dawn. The rain had stopped, and there was an odd stillness outside as the enemy made their usual dawn withdrawals.

Tyson stared at the sputtering candle awhile, then moved in a crouch to the center of the bunker near the candle. Kelly, then Sadowski, drew toward him, followed by DeTonq, then the remainder of the men. Tyson put his hand out, and Kelly put his on top of his lieutenant's. Tyson watched as each man put his hand into the circle, and Tyson looked at each face in the light of the wavering candle. He did not know precisely what he felt for these men, but the overpowering emotion seemed to be pity. Tyson spoke in measured tones. "We give our word as soldiers, as brothers, as comrades in arms, as men, as friends, as fellow sufferers, and maybe as Christians. And we know what we are giving our word about. And it is forever. Kelly?"

"I give my word. Doc?"

"I give my word. Sadowski?"

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"I give my word. DeTonq?" "I give my word. Beltran?"

Hernando Beltran said, "Any one of us could have gone running to the colonel and told on the others. But we gave our word that night. And our lips were to be sealed to our death. I told no one, not even a priest.

So I have this mortal sin on my soul . . . this killing of nuns.... And I must pray each day that God will forgive me when I meet Him. If He does not, then I am damned for eternity. This I did for us. "

Tyson listened for a while as they spoke, then said abruptly, "Enough.

We'll discuss Brandt at another time." He switched to a mundane subject.

"Where are you all staying?"

Sadowski answered, "The Army put us up at the guest house here. We got in last night. But your lawyer told us to make it a surprise."

Beltran added, "I want to take you all to a Cuban restaurant in the city, called Victor's. Then we go to another place for something else." He turned to Tyson, but Tyson winked at him first and Beltran laughed.

"Yeah! You coming, okay?"

Tyson said, "I'm under house arrest. But I can take you to dinner here at the club tonight."

Kalane smiled. "They don't let pfc's in here, Lieutenant."

Tyson said, "They do if pfc means private fucking civilian. "

Everyone laughed. They made small talk for a while. The door opened and Corva entered. He looked around the table, and his eyes rested on Tyson's.

Sadowski called out, "Another fucking officer. Right, Vince?"

Corva smiled. "Right, Ski. First Lieutenant, infantry. The Twenty-fifth Division-Jungle Lightning. Best outfit in the fucking Nam."

There were groans and jeers from the five men. Beltran said, "The Cav was the number-one ass kickers, and you know that if you were really in the Nam."

Kalane added, "Charlie shit when he saw the Cav coming. "

WORD OF HONOR * 507

Corva pointed at Tyson's First Cavalry shoulder patch, a shield-shaped emblem with a black horse's head above a diagonal black stripe against a color known as cavalry yellow. "See this?" He tapped the horse's head.

"This is the horse that you never rode . . . " He ran his finger along the diagonal stripe. ". . . this is the line you couldn't hold. And the yellow speaks for itself."

"Oh, bullshit! " snapped Sadowski.

"Fuck you!" said Kalane.

"Eat shit," suggested Walker.

Corva held up his hand. "Just joking, men. Old Army joke. Everybody was jealous of the Cav.

"Fucking-ay-right," said Kalane.

Corva glanced at his watch. "Well, time to go. " He said to the five men,

"I'd appreciate it if you'd hang out here, though I don't think I'll be calling on you."

Tyson stood, and the other men rose also. Beltran produced a fifth of rum from his attach6 case and emptied it into seven fresh coffee cups. "A little toast, gentlemen." He raised the delicate cup in his beefy hand with the style of a man who is used to presenting toasts. He said, "A toast to the dead--God forgive me, but I can't remember all their names, but He knows who they are."

They all drank. Walker said, "And good luck to you, Lieutenant. "

Corva put down his cup and picked up his briefcase. "Well, into the valley of death rode the First Cavalry."

Tyson shook hands with each man and left with Corva Out in the corridor Corva said, "Good to see unit pride.

"It's remarkable after nearly two decades."

"Yes, isn't it?" He added, "It can't hurt us at the courtmartial either."

Corva asked, "Were you happily surprised?"

"I wanted to beat the shit out of you."

"But you looked like you were having a good time."

"Well . . . I was glad to see them again after the initial awkwardness. "

"They seem like a fine bunch of men."

Tyson walked in silence awhile, then said, "They are all murderers. "

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"Yes, but they are our murderers.

They climbed the stairs and stopped at the door of the reception room marked "Stonewall Jackson."

Corva said, "Look everyone in the eye when you enter. It's not necessary to salute Colonel Gilmer. Our table is on the right as you walk in. Any questions?"

"How did I get here?"

"You took the long way." Corva opened the door, and they entered.

It was a large handsome room with a highly polished wood

CHAPTER floor, used for infor-

mal receptions and stag

smokers. The front

wall was brick with

a fieldstone fireplace.

The other walls were

paneled in dark wood.

Flanking the fireplace

40 toward the ends of the

brick wall were French

windows with fanlights. Above the fireplace, appropriately enough, was an oil portrait of Thomas "Stonewall" Jack son, who once served at Fort Hamilton before heading south.

In front of the fireplace was a podium, and behind the podium stood Colonel Farnley Gilmer. To Gilmer's right was a bridge table at which sat Major Karen Harper.

Tyson and Corva took their places at a long banquet table along the right-hand wall. Directly across from them along the left wall was another banquet table at which sat Colonel Pierce, Major Weinroth, and Captain Longo. To the pros-509

510 * NELSON DEMILLE

ecution's left front, Tyson noticed, was a court reporter, a pretty young pfc with blond hair, freckles, and a sexy overbite, sitting at a portable olive-drab field desk of the type Tyson remembered from Vietnam. Other than the unifonns, that desk, and perhaps the oil painting of Jackson, there was nothing in the room to suggest a martial event was taking place.

The banquet tables were covered with floor-length white linen tablecloths. Tyson detected the faint odor of beer and stale smoke in the air.

In the far rear of the room were stacked about a hundred folding chairs.

One of them had been opened and placed between the defense and prosecution tables, facing the podium. This, Tyson assumed, was the witness chair. An American flag on a stand had been positioned behind Karen Harper's table.

Between the flag and the door, standing at a modified position of parade rest, was a young black sergeant in dress greens. Tyson assumed he was the sergeant at arms, though he was not armed and wore no helmet as he'd seen at courtsmartial he'd witnessed.

Tyson noticed that the defense, prosecution, and investigating team were spaced far enough apart so that private talk carried on in a low voice could not be heard by the other parties.

Colonel Gilmer looked at his watch.

Tyson looked at Karen Harper, but she was reading something in her lap.

Pierce, Weinroth, and Longo had their heads together and were conferring.

The court reporter hit a few keys on her stenotype.

Vincent Corva was making notes on some typed papers. He put his pencil down, leaned toward Tyson, and whispered, "Ziti instead of shells. Why don't you get that?"

Colonel Gilmer said, "Good morning. We are here to conduct a formal investigation into certain charges against Lieutenant Benjamin J. Tyson, ordered pursuant to Article 32b of the Uniform Code of Military Justice."

Colonel Gilmer looked at Tyson. "Lieutenant, you were informed of your right to be represented by civilian counsel at no expense to the United States or by military counsel

WORD OF HONOR e 511

of your own selection if reasonably available or by military counsel detailed by the Staff Judge Advocate at Fort Dix. You stated that you desire to he represented by Mr. Vincent Corva of New York City."

Tyson regarded Gilmer a moment. He was about sixty, with short gray hair, a pleasant square face but a vacuous expression.

Gilmer continued, "Let the record show that Mr. Corva is present here with you." Gilmer looked toward Corva. "Mr., Corva, I will ask you to step forward and enter your appearance by filling out item three on the official Investigating Officer's Report."

Corva stood and walked to Harper's table. They exchanged a few words that Tyson couldn't hear, and Harper slid a form toward Corva.

Tyson looked across the room and saw that Colonel Pierce was looking at him pensively. Tyson continued to stare at Pierce. He was not more than fifty years old, a young colonel. He had dark red hair and wore it longer than the Army would have liked. He affected a pair of reading glasses, but Tyson bad seen him reading with and without them at the same distance. His complexion was strikingly red, and Tyson couldn't tell if he'd been out in the sun too long or had dangerously high blood pressure.

Corva returned to the table and took his seat.

Colonel Gilmer referred to a procedural guide and began reading, glancing at Tyson from time to time. "Lieutenant, I want to remind you that my sole function as the Article 32 investigating officer in this case is to determine thoroughly and impartially all of the relevant facts of this case, to weigh and evaluate those facts, and determine the truth of the matters stated in the charges. I shall also consider the form of the charges and make a recommendation concerning the disposition of the charges which have been preferred against you. I will now read to you the charges which I have been directed to investigate. They are as follows: Violation of the Uniform Code of Military Justice, Article 118, murder.

Specification One. " Gilmer began reading the long, convoluted sentence of the first specification. Tyson tuned out and focused instead on Major Judith Weinroth.

She was about forty, he guessed, and he saw no wedding 512 * NELSON DEMILLE

ring, though that meant nothing anymore. The uniform looked awful on her, and Corva was right about recommending her to the post beauty parlor. Her expression was serious, all businesslike, the expression of the professional woman. But as he looked at her, Pierce whispered something in her ear, and she smiled one of the brightest, prettiest little-girl smiles Tyson had ever seen, and her whole face radiated beauty. But then the smile faded, and the face looked forbidding again.