Colonel Pierce stood and said sharply, “Mr. Corva, the government has no corpses to provide in order to satisfy your ghoulish sense of curiosity or your inane suggestion that there were no deaths at that hospital. If you—”
Corva’s voice cut him off. “I am not saying there were no deaths! I have here a citation for a Silver Star that speaks of deaths. And if the government has no corpses, the defense does: Larry Cane and Arthur Peterson. Killed in action against an armed enemy, Colonel Pierce. And I have death certificates giving time, place, and cause of death. And until recently, I would have said I even knew why they died. Now that the government is trying to strip these men—living and dead—of their honor and their dignity, I can no longer say why.” Corva sat.
The room was very still. Pierce sat slowly. Tyson was impressed by Corva’s expression of outrage. And Corva, as he’d said himself, was no courtroom actor. Corva was outraged, because Corva had kept himself purposely ignorant of the actual events of February 15. Corva believed every word of the Silver Star citation.
Colonel Gilmer looked around the room. He said, “Does the defense have anything further to present?”
Corva shook his head. “No, sir.”
“All right,” said Gilmer, “I would like to call the additional witness, Andrew Picard.” He turned to Sergeant Lester. “Please show Mr. Picard in.”
Sergeant Lester snapped to attention, turned smartly, and strode out the door.
Tyson lit a cigarette. Corva drank water. Corva leaned close to him and asked, “How did Larry Cane die?”
Tyson replied, “I shot him through the heart.”
Corva didn’t seem particularly surprised.
The door opened, and Andrew Picard entered. Picard was dressed in brown tweeds, and Tyson thought he was rushing the season a bit and playing author a lot. Sergeant Lester showed him to the front podium, facing Gilmer.
Colonel Gilmer said, “Mr. Picard, will you raise your right hand, please?”
Picard raised his hand.
Gilmer said, “You swear that the evidence you shall give in the case now being investigated shall be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. So help you God.”
“I do.”
“Please take your seat in the witness chair.”
Picard walked toward the back of the room and sat in the chair facing Gilmer.
Colonel Gilmer said, “Please state your full name, occupation, and residence address.”
“Andrew Picard, writer, Bluff Point, Sag Harbor, New York.”
“Do you know the accused?”
Picard looked at Tyson. “We’ve met once.”
Gilmer said, “I have an unsworn statement made by you in the presence of Major Karen Harper. My purpose in asking you here is to have you expand on this statement and to answer other questions I might have regarding your part in this case. And also to answer such questions as may be asked of you by the counsel for the defense or the prosecution.”
Picard crossed his legs.
Colonel Gilmer said, “I am going to ask Major Harper to conduct this examination.”
Harper stood and walked toward the witness chair. “Mr. Picard, we can dispense with a good deal of the background and so-called establishing questions because I don’t think there’s a person in this room who doesn’t know the background on this case and your part in it.”
“Fine with me, Major.”
“Mr. Picard, did you make any efforts to substantiate what Mr. Brandt and Mr. Farley told you?”
“I did look for more witnesses but couldn’t find any. They corroborated one another’s story. For my purposes that was fine.”
“Did you set out to expose alleged American atrocities during the battle of Hue?”
“Not at all. I wanted to—and did—expose communist atrocities. Lots of them. I was an eyewitness to some of them.”
“But not to the Miséricorde Hospital incident?”
“No. I was trapped in the Citadel during that time.”
“Did you hear anything about that hospital while you were there?”
Corva stood. “We really can’t allow hearsay evidence, Major.”
Colonel Gilmer said, “Mr. Corva, there is no jury present, and the strictest rules of evidence and examination do not apply. This is an informal format. If it weren’t, I would have thrown you out long ago.”
Picard laughed, joined by a few other people.
Corva made a mock bow toward Harper. “Please continue.”
“Thank you.” She addressed Picard. “Did you hear anything about the hospital while you were in Hue?”
“Yes, but only that it had been destroyed in fighting and that Caucasian civilians and Vietnamese Catholics had been killed. That was the kind of news that made the rounds. The gooks—Viets—Buddhist-type Viets—were about as important as the local leech population. Not nice but true.”
“Do you recall any sort of investigation at the time?”
“No. You have to understand the conditions in Hue. The destruction of one hospital was not remarkable in any way. Plus, we had our own casualties.” He thought a moment, then said, “Also . . . the type of Westerner who was in Hue was . . . how shall I put this . . . ?”
“Any way you like, Mr. Picard.”
“They were considered by the military to be mostly pinkos, wimps, and bleeding hearts.”
“So this story of a possible massacre did not make the rounds among the troops the way, for instance, My Lai did?”
Picard shook his head. “This was not an open secret. Not to my knowledge anyway. Notwithstanding what I said about the type of Caucasians that were in Hue, I think the men in Tyson’s platoon knew they screwed up pretty bad. I think—”
Corva stood. “Mr. Picard was not at that hospital. I really must object.”
Harper answered, “I’m trying to establish the provenance of what Mr. Picard wrote.”
“Then ask him where he got the story, and let’s not give the witness free reign to engage in hearsay testimony.”
Harper turned back to Picard. “From whom did you hear this story, and when did you hear it?”
“I heard it from Sister Teresa. In a hospital in Orléans, France. Nearly two years ago. I had pneumonia. There is a record of that.”
“What hospital?”
“Mercy Hospital. Known in French—can you believe it?—as Hôpital Miséricorde.”
“How did the subject of the alleged massacre come up?”
“I had my manuscript with me. She saw the word Hue. That was all it took to start her talking about the war. I told her I was there. One thing led to another, and pretty soon I had an inkling that something very dark happened at Miséricorde Hospital.”
“You followed up on it?”
“Yes. When I got back to the States, I told my publisher I was on to something and the manuscript would be delayed. I knew about locator ads, so I got the address of the First Cav newspaper and placed an ad. A month passed. I placed it again. Then I received a letter from this Dr. Brandt in Boston. I went to interview him.
“Brandt at first refused to give me the names of anyone who could corroborate this story. He did give me the name of the platoon leader, Ben Tyson, who he said lived in a Long Island suburb of New York. I went through the suburban phone books and called a Benjamin Tyson. He said he wasn’t the man in question. At this point I wasn’t going to include this incident in the final draft, and I wrote a note to Brandt to that effect. Then Brandt came back with the name of Richard Farley, who he said could be contacted through the VA hospital in Newark. Brandt also said that the Benjamin Tyson I located in Garden City on Long Island was the man I was looking for. He said he was certain of that, but he wouldn’t say how he was so certain. I phoned Tyson again, but again he said I was mistaken. Anyway I interviewed Farley. He was a little strung-out. But he corroborated Brandt’s story in substance and also the nun’s story. I figured if it was all bullshit I’d know soon enough after it was published. I half expected abou
t a dozen lawsuits from the platoon’s survivors. But, as you see, no one is suing. . . . Though I suppose if Tyson beats the rap, they may all sue me then.”
Harper asked, “Are you covered by insurance?”
“No . . . but that isn’t making me try to get Tyson convicted, if that’s what you’re getting at.”
Major Harper asked, “What do you think Mr. Brandt’s motive was in contacting you and telling you this story?”
Picard smiled. “He had the idea from the locator ad I was on to it anyway. I suppose I led him to believe I already knew all there was to know. Doctors are kind of naive. Also, I think he wanted to get it off his chest. Hell of a secret, right?”
“You never suspected him of ulterior motives?”
“Such as wanting to screw up Tyson? Yes, I did. But I don’t know what would have prompted these motives, and I don’t care.”
“Why did Brandt give you Farley’s name and no one else’s?”
“Farley was the only man whose location he knew—except for Tyson’s. I suppose he was able to clear it with Farley. He couldn’t do that with the others because he didn’t know where they were. He never gave me another name.”
“How did Brandt know Farley’s location and Tyson’s location?”
Picard shrugged.
The reporter looked up and said, “Colonel, should I show that the witness shrugged?”
Picard laughed. “No, you can show that I said, ‘How the hell should I know? Ask Brandt.’”
Major Harper inquired, “Have you found your notes yet, Mr. Picard?”
“I told you, all my written notes and taped interviews were transferred to a word processor disc and were accidentally erased. They are in that great data bank in the sky along with everyone else’s erased tapes and discs. Christ, I’d like to tap into that.”
“You didn’t keep the printouts?”
“No one with a word processor stores reams of paper. Why is the military always ten years behind everyone else?”
Major Harper said, “One or two more questions. I was never clear on how Sister Teresa was able to identify the unit involved in the alleged incident.”
Picard replied, “She identified the division . . . by their shoulder patches—Ky binh—cavalry. Everyone knew the First Cav patch. That’s why I put the locator ad in the Cav paper, of course. Marines don’t wear unit patches. We had the crazy idea that we didn’t want to give the enemy any free field intelligence about the locations of units.”
“What I’m getting at is this: Did Sister Teresa know any of the men . . . by sight?”
Picard nodded slowly. “As I said on the phone, she recognized the officer—Tyson—but only referred to him as dai-u y—lieutenant. I couldn’t get her to remember his name.”
“What did she say about him?”
Picard let a long time go by, then replied cautiously, “She said—now this is in a combination of Vietnamese, English, and French—she said he came into a room where she was hiding. He saw her and he spared her life.”
“Spared?” asked Karen Harper. “Not saved her life? According to Lieutenant Tyson’s account and the other five witnesses, the platoon saved some lives by throwing people from the burning hospital.”
“Is that so? Well, the hospital was burning, according to the nun.” He paused. “I’m not trying to crucify Tyson . . . I can’t think of the word she used. It was French, though. Sauver ? To rescue or to save? Or was it épargner—to spare or to save? It’s a matter of translation, I guess.”
“It’s an important point, I should think. But not important enough to include in your book.”
Picard glanced for the first time at Tyson. “An error of omission. It didn’t fit Brandt’s description of what happened, or Farley’s. Sorry.”
Harper let some time go by, then said, “You also told me that Sister Teresa mentioned the bac si.”
Picard nodded. “Another point I overlooked in the book. But for good reason. However, I do want to tell you about that . . . I’ve been a bit remiss. I wish I had my damned notes. My memory has been jogged by all this. . . .”
“What about the bac si—the medic? Steven Brandt?”
Picard leaned forward. “She said that she also recognized the bac si . . . from what we would call the Medcap program. Medics went around to the schools, churches, villages, and all that. Anyway, she described Brandt as . . . ‘un homme qui viole les juenes filles. ’ You don’t need a lot of French to translate that.”
Harper said, “Nevertheless, I will translate. A man who violates or abuses young girls.”
Picard nodded again. “Of course there are many, many interpretations of that. What medical person hasn’t been accused . . . I couldn’t possibly include that in my book. Talk about a lawsuit. Christ!”
Karen Harper looked at Andrew Picard a moment, then said, “Did Sister Teresa say anything else to you about her relationship with Lieutenant Tyson?”
Picard glanced again at Tyson before replying, “Sister Teresa told me she had met the dai-u y earlier, at some function at Hue Cathedral. She knew that the bac si was in the dai-u y’s unit, and she took the opportunity to speak to him about this medic’s predilection for underage virgins.” He looked around the room. “I don’t think any of this detracts from the central issue. I’ll tell you what the nun and Brandt and Farley did agree on. They agreed that American soldiers willfully and with malice murdered a hospital full of unarmed and defenseless people.”
Major Harper said, “We may be able to establish that, beyond a reasonable doubt. But there is only one man accused of that as it turns out—the officer in charge, Lieutenant Tyson. Now we have some reason to believe that his role in the alleged crime may not have been as great as we were led to believe—or as you suggested in your book—”
Picard said, “You know, Major, I was a Marine officer, and I know what Tyson’s responsibility was. If he failed to discharge that responsibility he ought to be called to account for it. But not this way. This is a goddamned travesty—”
Colonel Pierce stood, but Corva stood as well and said loudly across the intervening space, “If the witness can give hearsay evidence, he can damned sure give his opinion.”
Gilmer said curtly, “Please be seated. Both of you. Go on, Mr. Picard.”
Picard continued, “I just want to add that I think Dr. Brandt lied to me about one important thing. I don’t think Tyson ever gave a direct order to shoot anyone in that hospital. I think Tyson’s troops mutinied. I think he was as much a victim as anyone else in that hospital. In fact, I think his platoon were victims too. Victims of war, combat fatigue, and shock. I think if you find Sister Teresa, she will tell you more about Lieutenant Tyson’s actions that day than anyone else can.”
Harper waited a moment, then asked, “Why didn’t you include some of these things in your book, Mr. Picard?”
Picard replied, “I’ve asked myself that question. I have no answer.”
“All right.” She asked, “Did Sister Teresa tell you how Lieutenant Tyson saved or spared her?”
“No. You must understand that we had not only a language problem, but also I was rather ill and not in the best of form. I often wish I had another chance to conduct that interview.”
Karen Harper observed, “So do we all.” She drew a breath and said, “I have no further questions.”
Colonel Gilmer addressed Colonel Pierce. “Does the government wish to cross-examine the witness?”
Colonel Pierce seemed unprepared for the question. He conferred with his assistants, then stood and said, “We have no questions.”
Colonel Gilmer turned to Corva. “Does the defense wish to cross-examine the witness?”
Corva stood. “I have one question for Mr. Picard.” He looked at Picard. “You were not an eyewitness to the events in question, and therefore neither the defense nor the prosecution has seen fit to claim you as their own witness. But you are the only link to Sister Teresa. I ask you this: Did the story you heard from Sister Teresa coi
ncide with the story you heard from Steven Brandt in respect to the role of the accused in the hospital incident?”
“No, it did not.”
“Thank you.” He looked at Karen Harper. “I have no further questions.”
Karen Harper said to Colonel Gilmer, “I have no further questions.”
Gilmer said to Pierce, “Do you wish a recross?”
“No, I don’t.”
Colonel Gilmer said to Andrew Picard, “The witness is excused.”
Picard stood and walked to the defense table. He said to Tyson in a soft voice, “You’re a little old to be dressed like that, aren’t you?”
“Tell it to the Army.”
Picard smiled. “Luck.” He walked toward the door held open by Sergeant Lester and left.
Colonel Gilmer drank from a glass of water. Karen Harper returned to her table. The room was still.
Corva said into Tyson’s ear, “Why did the monkey fall out of the tree?”
“Why?”
“He was dead.”
Tyson drew a deep breath. “I don’t need any more jollying.”
Colonel Gilmer addressed Tyson. “Lieutenant, will you please rise?”
Tyson stood.
“Lieutenant Tyson, earlier in this investigation, I advised you of your rights to make a statement or to remain silent. Do you want me to repeat this advice?”
Tyson said, “It is my understanding that if I make an unsworn statement, I may only be cross-examined on what I’ve said and not about other matters pertaining to this case.”
“That’s substantially correct. Do you desire to make a statement in any form?”
Corva stood. “No, sir.”
Tyson said, “Yes, sir. I intend it to be unsworn, so I’ll just make it from here, and I’ll keep it short. Now that I understand all about making statements in extenuation and mitigation without incriminating myself, I’d like to make one. I want to say to you, Colonel Gilmer, that I am quite prepared to face a court-martial board in order to clear myself if you believe these charges can be disposed of in no other way. But if you choose not to forward these charges to a general court-martial, then I think you must recommend a way for the Army to publicly restore my reputation and my honor. The dropping of charges will not be sufficient to undo what has been done.” Tyson sat.
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