Word of Honor

by Nelson DeMille

  Colonel Levin grunted and stuck an unlit cigar in his mouth. “This, I take it, is a social call.”

  “Yes, sir. I meant to report in. But I had second thoughts after meeting Captain Hodges.”

  “I’m sure he had second thoughts after meeting you.”

  Tyson cleared his throat. “Colonel, I’m considering registering an official complaint, under . . . I believe it’s Article 138 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice, with respect to my treatment by Captain Hodges.”

  “Are you?” The colonel nodded appreciatively. “A good defense is an aggressive offense. Well, don’t try to confuse the issues, Tyson. Why don’t you just invite Captain Hodges to meet you in the basement of the gym? That’s where I like to see officers talk over their differences. Five rounds, sixteen-ounce gloves, referee must be present.”

  Tyson looked the colonel in the eyes and saw the man was not being glib or facetious. Tyson replied, “I may do that.”

  “Good. Listen, Tyson, it is my duty as adjutant to say welcome to Fort Hamilton and to arrange for you to meet Colonel Hill, the post commander. But in candor, Lieutenant Tyson, Colonel Hill does not want you here and would rather not meet you. So don’t embarrass everyone by asking to meet him. And don’t show up at social events that by custom you will be invited to. Please arrange to mess separately. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Levin tugged at his jowl and seemed to be thinking. He looked at Tyson. “Let’s say you are reporting in now so you don’t have to come back later in uniform. Okay?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Levin shuffled some papers on his desk and found what he was looking for. “Your special instructions said you were to bring your passport. Did you do that?”

  Tyson hesitated, then replied, “Yes, sir.”

  Colonel Levin extended his hand across the desk. “May I see it?”

  Tyson reached into his breast pocket and drew out his passport. He put it in Colonel Levin’s open hand.

  Levin laid it on the desk and flipped through it. “You’ve been around.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Levin dropped the passport into his top drawer and shut it. He folded his hands on the desk and regarded Tyson.

  Tyson said, “By what authority are you taking my passport?”

  Levin shrugged. “Beats me. Those are my orders. Take it up with the State Department or the Justice Department. You can have it back for authorized travel.” He added, “I have instructions from the Pentagon assigning you temporarily to my office. So for the time being I am your commanding officer. However, I don’t think you will want to share space with Captain Hodges, so I will try to find something for you to do away from this building.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Levin took a deep asthmatic breath and said, “Is there anything you might be interested in doing on this post?”

  Tyson found himself replying in an irritated voice. “Not a thing.”

  Levin’s doughy face seemed to harden, then soften again. He finally lit his cigar and blew a puff of smoke into the air. “The Army,” said Levin, “gave me a few special instructions. I am to assign you a duty commensurate with your abilities and experience.” Levin tapped the thick personnel file. “You were an infantry officer.”

  “For less than two years—a long time ago. Most recently I was a vice-president of a large aerospace corporation.”

  “Is that a fact?” Levin tapped his cigar into a coffee mug. “We’ll find something for you. By the way, do you know how much you make? Now, I mean.”

  “No, sir.”

  “You make $1,796 a month. Does this recall to duty impose an undue financial hardship on you?”

  “One might say that. In fact, sir, if this tour of duty lasts very long I may have to sell my house.”

  Levin rubbed his jowls, then said, “I don’t think this tour of duty will last very long. But please keep me informed regarding your financial situation.”

  “For what purpose, sir?”

  “Well, the Army will help in any way it can. There’s a credit union for one thing. All right?”

  “Thank you.” Tyson knew that Levin’s concern was not personal; it was the government that was concerned about his economic welfare, which is why Levin had brought it up, to see what Tyson would say. In America, he’d learned, the worst thing that could befall a citizen, short of going to jail, was the ruination of his credit rating. Ruined reputations and ruined marriages and crises of the soul and psyche were small tales compared to a bad TRW rating. Tyson was happy to see that the government was concerned, that it was worried.

  Levin said, “I’m confident you will figure out a way not to have to sell your house. Which reminds me, I have been instructed to offer you post family housing, though we’re a bit tight here.”

  “Thank you, Colonel, but I don’t think my family will be joining me here, and I wouldn’t want to put another officer and his family out on the street. In fact, if the Army has no objections, I’d like to continue living off-post, and I will not require bachelor officer’s quarters or any other Army accommodations.”

  Levin leaned across his desk. “Let me be a little more precise, Lieutenant. The Army orders you to take a family housing unit. Frankly the Army does not want to give the media or the public the impression that you are being put into a hardship situation. There is a nice two-bedroom brick row unit assigned to you, and it will have your name on it by morning. It is partly furnished, and you are authorized to move your household goods into it at government expense. You are also authorized to move your wife and son into it, though of course you do not have to do that. Clear?”

  “No, sir, it’s not. Do I have to live on post or not?”

  Levin said, “I’m afraid you do.”

  “That,” said Tyson strongly, “is most irregular. That would constitute an undue hardship, and there is no justification for that type of restriction.”

  Levin cleared his throat. “Unfortunately there is. A preliminary investigation into your case is being conducted under Article 31 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice, and it is the right of the Army to restrict its personnel to insure your continued availability for this investigation. Restriction, as you know, is a moral rather than a physical restraint, and it is enforced only by your moral and legal obligation to obey this order.”

  Tyson nodded. “I know all that, Colonel. What are the limitations of this restriction?”

  Levin looked at a sheet of paper on his desk. “You are to be in your post quarters between twenty-four hundred hours and six hundred hours—that’s midnight to six in the morning. You may, though, stay away overnight on the evening preceding your off-duty days. Your off-duty travel, however, is restricted to fifty miles from this point.”

  Tyson said nothing for a long time, then remarked, “My family is on the East End of Long Island. That, as you know, is about a hundred miles from here.”

  “Then obviously you cannot visit them.”

  “That would present an undue hardship.”

  “I hardly think, Lieutenant, that the Army’s refusal to allow you to summer in the Hamptons is a hardship. You will have some duties here, and it is not reasonable that you should attempt to travel a great distance every day after work and be back here by midnight. Fifty miles, and you may not travel by boat or airplane unless it is first cleared by me or the post commander.” Levin hesitated, then added, “I was under the impression you were not living with your wife.”

  “I was not, but I intended to do so again.”

  “Well, then. . . .” Levin looked at Tyson’s orders. “You have a principal residence in Garden City. That’s well within fifty miles of here, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s the house I may have to sell.”

  “Well, Lieutenant, until that time comes, your wife can move back to that house in Garden City. As a practical matter, you can spend weekends at home there. Also your wife and son may want to spend some weeknights with you here in your f
amily housing unit.”

  “Colonel, I do not think my wife will set foot on an Army installation.”

  Levin said irritably, “You’ll have to work out your conjugal visits yourself, Lieutenant. It is not my duty to become involved in that.”

  “No, sir.”

  Levin tapped his fingers on his desk. After a time he said, “I realize this is very difficult for you, but if it will make you feel any better, this will be over soon.”

  “Will it?”

  “Yes. Actually the imposition of restrictions on you makes it necessary for the government to dispose of your case one way or the other without delay. In fact, your right to a speedy trial or the Army’s decision not to pursue the case must come within ninety days of any sort of restriction. The civilian courts may not know what a speedy trial is, but a trial by court-martial is, if nothing else, speedy. So this restriction is a blessing in disguise. The clock is running for the Army as of now. Before mid-October this will be finished one way or the other.”

  Tyson nodded. “I see.”

  Levin said in a kinder tone, “Also, the restrictions are not very onerous. And no one is watching you. But be careful, for your own sake.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Levin asked, “By the way, are there any other addresses I should know about?”

  “Yes, sir. As you may have read in the papers, I’m currently living on the fashionable East Side.”

  “You’ve got more addresses than I’ve got bathrooms.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I want that East Side address and the Sag Harbor address. Give them to Hodges.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Levin turned another page of Tyson’s file. “Two Hearts. Where and where?”

  “Right knee and right ear.”

  Levin nodded, and his eyes focused on Tyson’s scarred right ear. He said, “I noticed you were limping. Is that a result of your wound?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Are you fit for active duty?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Well, you’re fit enough for what they have in mind.”

  Tyson did not reply.

  Levin said, “I half didn’t expect you, Tyson.”

  “I was ninety percent sure I wasn’t coming.”

  Levin smiled.

  Tyson added, “My attorney has filed a motion in federal district court to have this recall to duty rescinded.”

  “That’s none of my concern. You’re here now, and you were right to report as ordered, uniform or not.”

  “Yes, sir. That’s what my lawyer said.”

  “One last thing. Your oath of office. They require you to do this again, and they asked me to administer it upon your arrival.”

  Tyson nodded. Levin was being open with him, revealing to him the fact that the Army and the government had thought this out. Pull the passport, assign family housing, administer the oath. Slam bang, we got you coming and going. Only you’re not going anywhere.

  Levin picked up a piece of paper and handed it to Tyson. “No need to do it aloud. Just read it to yourself and sign it.” He drew on his cigar.

  Tyson read: I, Benjamin J. Tyson, have been appointed an officer in the Army of the United States, in the grade of First Lieutenant, do solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic, that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion; and I will well and faithfully discharge the duties of the office upon which I am about to enter: SO HELP ME GOD.

  Tyson looked up from the paper and saw that Levin was extending a pen across the desk. Tyson hesitated, then took the pen and noticed irrelevantly that it was a good Waterman fountain pen. Tyson said, “I have some mental reservations.”

  “Is that so?”

  “So . . . can I make a note of that on here? Cross that out and initial it?”

  “You’d better not. Look, Lieutenant, this is the Army, and this is your oath of office, not a home improvement contract. You will sign it as is, or you may refuse to sign it.”

  “Then I refuse to sign it.”

  “Fine. Give it back.”

  Tyson handed the paper back with the pen.

  There was a silence in the room, then unexpectedly, Levin said, “You been fishing, or loafing in the sun?”

  “Both.”

  “There’s good fishing at Sheepshead Bay, not too far from here.” He glanced at his watch. “I take it you were not warmly received by Captain Hodges. That is not a presumption of guilt.”

  “Then what was it, Colonel?”

  “It was an anticipation of problems: media nosing around here, maybe demonstrations, curiosity seekers. This is a nice quiet little post. Less than five hundred military. People like it here. Actually I was born and raised a few miles from here. Brighton Beach.”

  “I didn’t ask to come here, Colonel.”

  “No. But the Army assigned you here as a courtesy to you; however, it is no big treat for us. I personally believe you should have been stationed at one of the larger bases, perhaps down South. A place like Bragg, which dominates the community around it, instead of vice versa as it is here.”

  Levin continued, “We are ill equipped to provide the necessary logistics and security in the event a . . . a judicial proceeding takes place here. It would be a media circus. And you see, Tyson, the careers of several officers like myself and Hodges who are responsible for you and for maintaining good order and discipline here could be jeopardized.”

  “I appreciate your problems. I won’t add to them.”

  Levin nodded and stubbed out his cigar, then looked down at the papers spread across his desk. When he spoke again, he spoke as the post adjutant delivering the required advice to the newcomer. “I don’t know how you’ve been treated by your civilian peers these last few months, but here you are an officer, and if you act like one, eventually you will be treated like one—even by people like Captain Hodges.” He added, “Do the best you can in the time you are here. Whether you leave here a free man or under guard, you should be able to look on this time with a sense that you acted correctly and with honor.”

  “Yes, sir. I understand that.”

  “Good.” Levin said more lightly, “I’d like us to have dinner. Maybe talk about things. Meet me at the O Club at eighteen hundred hours.”

  Tyson had a dinner engagement with his accountant in Manhattan and began to decline automatically, then recalled that he was in the Army, and in the Army the colonel’s wish was a direct command. He said, “Yes, sir, Officers’ Club at six o’clock.”

  “You say it your way, Lieutenant, I say it my way. Be there then.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “See Captain Hodges on your way out, and he will give you some orientation literature. Give him those addresses. That will be all.”

  Tyson stood. “Yes, sir.” He saluted, turned, and left the adjutant’s office, closing the door behind him.

  * * *

  Tyson stood near Hodges’s desk, but the captain was bent over paperwork and did not look up at him. Tyson drew his notebook from his breast pocket and scribbled the addresses Levin had asked for. He laid the paper on Hodges’s desk. “Colonel Levin asked me to give you these—”

  “Fine.” Hodges added without looking up from his desk, “Take that packet. Familiarize yourself with the post and its facilities.”

  Tyson picked up a large brown envelope stuffed with papers and put it in his attaché case.

  Hodges said, “Begin your in-processing tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir.” Tyson headed toward the door.

  “Tyson?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  Hodges looked up at him. “We didn’t need this.”

  Tyson wasn’t certain if the we referred to Hodges and Levin or Fort Hamilton or the Army or the officer corps or the nation. Probably all of the above. Tyson replied, “No, sir.”


  “If you should ever have reason to come into this office again, and I hope you don’t, I expect you to look like a soldier.”

  Tyson took a step toward Hodges’s desk. He wanted to ask this young staff officer what the hell he knew about being a soldier. Tyson took a deep breath.

  Hodges glared at him.

  Tyson said, “Good afternoon, sir.” He turned quickly and left.

  He was vaguely aware of passing between the desks in the outer office, striding quickly through the corridor, down the stairs, past the reception window, and out the glass doors into the sunlit parking area. He walked to his car and flung his attaché case into the front seat. He kicked the car door and put a dent in the panel, then shouted, “Damn it! Damn—” He suddenly looked back at the headquarters building. In an open second-story window he saw the stocky figure of Lieutenant Colonel Mortimer Levin, his hands behind his back, a cigar stuck in his mouth, watching him.

  Tyson composed himself, got into his car, and pulled away from the headquarters building. As he drove through the narrow streets of the small post, he came to the belated realization that he was in the Army. He said it aloud. “I’m in the Army. I am in the Army.”

  His first tour of duty and subsequent release from active duty had always had a feeling of tentativeness, of unfinished business, an unfulfilled obligation to the Army, to his country, and to himself.

  But this time, he understood, was the final muster, the last call to arms. In reality, this recall to duty was but a continuation of his service after a long furlough. He did not know how this would end, but for the first time, here at Fort Hamilton, he saw the end in sight.

  CHAPTER

  26

  Benjamin Tyson climbed the steps to the Officers’ Club, housed in the gray granite artillery fort.

  The foyer and the hallways that ran to the left and right were arched and vaulted, constructed of stone and brick, and covered in places with stucco. The floor was made of flagstone, and the lighting fixtures were black wrought iron. Because it had been a fort, there were few openings to the outside world: only small gun ports, and these were bricked over.