by James Jones
“You ought to get your sergeancy for this one. I wonder what was wrong with this guy. He’s a goddam madman.”
“I dont know,” the other said. “Come on, lets make the call in.”
“This is a lousy job, you know it?”
“I dint ask for it,” the other said. “Did you? Come on, lets get that call in for the wagon.”
Prew started back down toward the beach and the road, Kalia Road, that led to De Russy, traveling low, keeping in the bushes. When he got to the beach he sat down in the sand a while, listening to the water. That was when he found he was crying.
Then he remembered the forty dollars in his pocket.
Book Four
The Stockade
They held Angelo Maggio three days at the Shafter MP Barracks. Then they shipped him back to Schofield under guard. They sent him straight from Shafter to the Post Stockade. He rode past his Company in a recon, on his way to the Stockade. He was held in confinement at the Stockade as a general prisoner while he waited trial. He worked with a sixteen-pound sledge in the stone quarry up by Kolekole Pass. He waited in the Stockade six weeks for his trial to come up.
First Sergeant Milton A Warden made out the papers on Angelo Maggio. They were throwing the book at Angelo Maggio. The Department Provost Marshal was preferring the charges against him. He was charged with Drunk & Disorderly, with Resisting Arrest, with Insubordination, with Disobeying A Direct Order, and with Striking A Non-Commissioned Officer In The Performance Of His Duty. He was also charged with Conduct Unbecoming To A Soldier. The Department Provost Marshal recommended a Special Court Martial. The maximum penalty for a Special Court Martial was confinement for six months at hard labor and forfeiture of all pay and allowances for like period.
It was rumored in the Regiment that Regimental Sergeant Major Pheneas T O’Bannon had told First Sergeant Warden confidentially that if the Department Provost Marshal could have proved Angelo Maggio had seriously hurt somebody or had been AWOL, the Department Provost Marshal would have recommended a General Court Martial. A General Court Martial is the only military court empowered to try the more serious offenses. The maximum penalty for a General Court Martial is life imprisonment or death. This sentence is not often passed. The maximum penalty for a Summary Court Martial is confinement for one month and forfeiture of two-thirds of all pay and allowances. In the case of the United States Army vs Private Angelo Maggio a Summary Court Martial was not considered.
After waiting the six weeks that it required to carry out the manifold paper work necessary for the protection of the accused, Angelo Maggio was conducted under guard to the Regimental Headquarters Building for trial. There was a court of three officers, one of whom had studied law and was the legal member. His defense counsel was there and introduced himself to Angelo Maggio. The Department Provost Marshal who was a full Colonel was not there but his representative, a Major, was present to prosecute. There were three witnesses, Sgt (formerly Corp) John C Archer and Pvt 1cl Thomas D James, patrolmen of the Fort Shafter MP Company, and Pvt 1cl George B Stuart, records Clerk of the Fort Shafter MP Company.
Before trial, Angelo Maggio was advised by the court that, in addition to the rights that he would have been assured before a civilian court, he also had the following safeguards:
a. Before trial he had the right to give evidence and to face and cross-examine witnesses in order to show that he was innocent or to minimize his guilt.
b. The type of trial was chosen which would give him the least, not the greatest, punishment consistent with military discipline.
c. That he had been given, at no expense to himself, a defense counsel.
d. At the trial he had the right to make an unsworn statement without subjecting himself to cross-examination.
e. His previous convictions were not allowed to be considered in determining his guilt.
f. He would be given a typewritten record of the trial.
g. He would be given an automatic appeal from the court-martial to the reviewing authority, before the sentence was effective.
h. Three months after confinement to a disciplinary barracks or stockade, his case would be reviewed for clemency by the reviewing authority.
i. At any time during his confinement he could, by showing proper conduct, attitude and ability, be restored to duty as a soldier and become entitled to the advantages and privileges accruing thereto.
The president of the court then advised Angelo Maggio of his right to testify on his own behalf, stating that his failure to do so would not be used against him. He also advised him that if he desired he could make an unsworn statement and not be subjected to cross-examination.
Angelo Maggio said he understood his rights, and he declined to testify.
The witnesses against Angelo Maggio were then called by the prosecution, and the trial began. It lasted fourteen minutes. Angelo Maggio was found guilty on all charges and sentenced to six months confinement at the Post Stockade, Schofield Barracks, T.H. and forfeiture of all pay and allowances for a like period.
Before pronouncing sentence, the president of the court informed Angelo Maggio that because an Army without discipline is a mob, worthless in battle, the rules governing the administration of justice in the Army are contained in the Articles of War, and that they are enacted by Congress, and are based on authority written in the Constitution, and basically they are older than the Constitution itself, that the first Articles of War were prepared by a committee headed by George Washington and were adopted by the Continental Congress in 1775, three days before Washington took command of the Continental Army, and that they have been amended from time to time by Congress to meet changing needs and changing conditions and form a legal code made by civilian authority for the government of the Army. Also that the Articles of War, themselves, provide that soldiers must be given every opportunity to be familiar with the ground rules governing their conduct, and that within six days after a man joins the Army the Articles of War must be read and explained to him and once every six months this must be repeated. Lastly, that this periodic reading and explanation is required by Congress, but the Army takes additional steps to see that soldiers understand military law, and it is the responsibility of the soldier’s commanding officer to see that he is fully informed, and it is the soldier’s right to be informed.
Angelo Maggio said he understood his rights, and that he had been informed.
The president of the court then pronounced sentence, stating it was not effective until reviewed and approved.
Angelo Maggio was conducted back to the Stockade under guard to wait until the sentence was reviewed. He worked with a sixteen-pound sledge in the stone quarry up by Kolekole Pass. He waited in the Stockade eight days for his sentence to be reviewed.
The sentence was reviewed by Lieutenant Colonel Rutherford B H Delbert, Angelo Maggio’s Regimental Commander, and approved in full. The complete record of trial, including the opinion of Colonel Delbert’s staff judge advocate and the action of Colonel Delbert, was then sent to Major General Andrew J Smith, Angelo Maggio’s Brigade Commander. It was there examined by experienced lawyers in the Brigade Judge Advocate General’s Office, who reported to General Smith that the record was legally sufficient to support Colonel Delbert’s action. General Smith then issued a special court-martial order finding Angelo Maggio guilty on all counts of all charges brought against him and sentencing him to six months confinement at the Post Stockade, Schofield Barracks, T.H. and forfeiture of all pay and allowances for a like period. This court-martial order was published throughout the Brigade where Angelo Maggio had served, and posted on the bulletin board in all orderly rooms of the Brigade.
Angelo Maggio in the Stockade was given a typewritten record of the trial and a copy of the special court-martial order, and began to serve out his time. He worked with a sixteen-pound sledge in the stone quarry up by Kolekole Pass. They did not subtract the six weeks waiting for trial or the eight days of waiting for approval of the sentence from his
six months sentence.
Chapter 28
SOMETHING CHANGED IN PREWITT after Angelo’s one man revolution. It was something that The Treatment with all its refinements had not been able to touch. Something went out of him. The Treatment could never have taken it out of him. It was as if somewhere deep inside himself he could feel bone rubbing somberly against bone, changing gears. It sounded like a round-edged file on stone.
On April the first, the day after the disastrous payday, Pvt 1cl Bloom the potential middleweight, Pvt 1cl Malleaux the new man and potential featherweight, and several other Pfcs who were potential went on Detached Service with the new class at the Regimental NCO School. The NCO School was encamped in squad tents on one of the old concrete permanent camp sites up near the rifle range where the Regiments lived during their range seasons. It was an eight-weeks course.
Prewitt the potential welterweight watched them pack and go, irrelevantly remembering how he had once believed the great American folklore that all Wops were either dead yellow or else killers for the racketeers. He also remembered how it was up there, where they were going. He had been up there last year with the 27th during range season. He remembered the tents pitched over the concrete foundations, the standing in line for chow with mess kits in the mud, he remembered the waiting on the ready line in the fleece padded shooting jackets made from old CKC blouses, the smell of burnt cordite and the ringing ears and the carbon sight blackeners that smudged up everything and the two or three privately owned BC scopes of the top notch shooters, he remembered all of it, the heavy clinking dull glittering unexpended cartridges in the hand, the long deadly streamline disappearing of a cartridge slipped into the chamber with the thumb when you were firing singles, the swinging white spot marking off the bulls and the big red flag rising from the pits three hundred yards away. He had made high expert with the ’03 last year, and he liked living in the field. Even now, he still liked living in the field.
He still had Hal’s forty dollars left. He decided he would use Hal’s forty dollars to coldbloodedly seduce Lorene. It looked like that was the only way it could be done, and nobody knew he had it, and he did not have to pay Turp Thornhill till next Payday, and he did not believe Angelo would mind him using it. This time, it would be a planned economy. He laid out a plan for $60, to cover a period of five weeks. He figured he could just about swing it for that, with his plan, without having to count on next Payday which he already owed to Turp.
While waiting for the whorehouse Payday rush to die off he cautiously invested $10, and only $10, of the $40 with O’Hayer’s blackjack dealers for a dividend of a little over $20. Blackjack was much less fun than poker, that was why it was a better investment. Forty-five of the $60 would go for three all night jobs at $15 ea. The other $15 would go for three bottles at $3.50 ea. The change would go for cab fare. After he found out where she lived and got her to take him up, he could forget the money part. She had plenty money, and would not mind spending it on him if he played it right. It would be an interesting venture. It would be something to do, while Angelo was waiting trial. He planned it all out. It was absorbing, fascinating mental exercise. He lost himself in it entirely.
He followed the proceedings during the whole seven weeks it took the law to care for Maggio with the same absorption. An absorption that left The Treatment, that was still going on, running a poor second.
Once during the six weeks before the trial, he bought two cartons of tailormades and walked up to the Stockade to visit him. It was almost two miles, up past the tennis courts, then past the golf course, then past the bridle path sun dappled under the big tall trees and the lathery smell of the Packtrain. He sweated walking in the hot sun and he saw many officers, officers’ wives, and officers’ children. They all looked very tanned and very sportive. The Stockade was a wood building painted white with a green roof and sitting in a cool grove of oaks in the middle of a big flat field on the very edge of the reservation. It looked like a country school house. The tall chain mesh wire fence with the three in-leaning strands of barb wire made it look more like a country school house. The chain mesh wire grids over the windows looked like a country school house, too. At the country school house they would not let him in.
It was not a country school. It was a military establishment. They would not let him leave the tailormades for Angelo either. Each internee was issued one sack of Duke’s Mixture a day, and there would be no supplementary donations from outsiders. Each internee was a soldier, and would share the same as every other internee soldier. He took the tailormades back home with him. He did not see Angelo.
He felt thankful to them though. They could have easily let him leave the tailormades for Angelo and then the MP guards smoked them up themselves. Later on he smoked the cigarets himself. He felt guilty about smoking them. He could have thrown them away but they had cost two-fifty, and what good would it have done, it was an empty gesture. So he smoked them. But he felt guilty.
He felt guilty about Angelo too, that was one reason he had wanted to see him. He felt that what had happened Payday was somehow his fault. Angelo had been playing the queers for quite a while now, he had been coming down to Hal’s place often, and nothing like this had happened before. Only when Kid Prewitt appeared on the scene, like a catalyst poured into a tranquil beaker, did the mixture begin to boil and then explode. Angelo had not been tainted by the queers; it was only when Kid Galahad Prewitt had stepped in looking for the Holy Grail with his moralistic fears and questionings that Angelo had suddenly felt guilty enough, or tainted enough, to do something drastic. There were times when Prewitt felt a special quality in himself, a strange unpleasant quality that seemed to force everyone he touched into making drastic decisions about their own lives, no wonder people did not like to be around him. The idea frightened him deeply, at such times, because he could not understand what it was and because he did not want to do it. Certainly, he did not try to do it. People went along, living their lives as best they could, not gaining much maybe, but not losing greatly either, and all the time, deeply hidden, the one great personal conflict of fear lay dormant and unhidden. Enter Kid Galahad Prewitt. The action precipitates. The conflict of fear rises flapping from the depths like a giant manta ray, looming big and bigger, looming huge, up out of the deep green depths that you can look down into through a water glass and see the anchor cable dwindling in a long arc down into invisibility, up from far below that even, flapping the two wing fins of choice and the ego caught square in the middle. And they had to choose, had to face it, and whichever way they chose they still got hurt. And all the time he did not want to do it, did not know he did it, until afterwards. It always frightened him, thinking this way, it was one of the things he could most of the time keep down, out of his mind, but sometimes it was too hard to keep the mind going in smooth even waves and he had to let it in and the mind started jumping around yawingly as if there were no bottom under the feet and it always frightened him. Maybe there were things in themselves men should not look at, just as there were things in the very deep bottom of the sea that it was better that men did not know about. He felt that was true, sometimes. Life frightened him, sometimes. But there was nothing to do, anyway. Because this special quality was a thing he could not control in himself, that he could not stop. But then when he was going good he knew it was better to face it, that it was always better to face things no matter what it cost anybody. He knew that. He believed it. Only in the bad spells did life frighten him with its unbelievable cruelty, its inconceivable injustice, its incredible pointlessness. He was going through one of the bad spells now, with Angelo in the Stockade waiting trial. He felt he should have been able to stop the little guy from going off the deep end that night, even though it was himself, he felt, who caused it. He should have foreseen it. He should have not left him alone to step to the water to jettison the trunks. He should have pitched into the fight, in spite of what the little guy had yelled. The two of them could have whipped the MPs, clubs and all, and gott
en away, back to the Company and safety. He saw a thousand things he should have done, but had not done. He held himself responsible for what happened to Angelo. That was why he wanted to see Angelo so badly, maybe he could explain it to him. But he did not get to see Angelo.
In fact, he might never have gotten to see Angelo again at all, if it had not been for the queer investigation the city police started downtown.
They came for them in trucks, two of them, the big 21/2 ton jobs, from the MP Company at Shatter driven by an armed MP with another armed MP beside him in the cab, and led by a high-bellied recon driven by another armed MP. A big half-white, half-Hawaiian police lieutenant in the mustard worsted poplin of the city force, and with a build like a beachboy, was in charge of the expedition. He rode in the recon with the First Lieutenant from the Shafter MP Company who carried the blanket warrant signed by the Department Provost Marshal. Riding with them were the two young FBI men, looking like bright-faced rich men’s sons in their very conservative but expensive business suits, who were the liaison between the civilian police and the military.
The convoy descended upon the quadrangle and parked in front of G Company and assaulted Capt Holmes’s orderly room, the two shining, scrubbed, young graduate lawyers of the FBI in the lead, looking bright and mild and innocent almost to the point of adolescence, low voiced and tactful and flowing over with discretion, but underneath this erroneous impression immitigable with that calm implacability a man gets when he knows his word is revered as law and is to be feared. The CQ was dispatched out to the drillfield with a list of names immediately.
He came back marching a detail that appeared to be at least two-thirds of G Company, and drill for G Company the rest of that day was a skeletal sophism. The detail lined up before the barracks were counted off and answered another check roll call, looking sheepish and shuffling and very badly scared (the CQ had mentioned the presence of the FBI), yet wearing underneath the fear that unmistakable festive air that any holiday from the monotony of drill will bring, even if the holiday is an investigation by the FBI. They all knew the FBI, that it had jurisdiction over civil crimes committed by the Army, and they had all read the gang-buster comic books. The CQ had no idea why they were wanted, but there was only one civil crime that could have called in so many participants. It could only be a queer investigation.
