“Mr. Templar? Do you have anything to add?” The lieutenant general lit his pipe and the pleasant odor of Captain Black pipe tobacco filled the room.
“Only that we have evidence that Specialist James was seen leading North Vietnamese patrols dressed in American uniforms. The sightings were confirmed and photographed by our agents in the field.” Templar looked over at Colonel Chan, who was sitting next to him.
“I pass, General.” Chan shook his head as he thought. He had been assigned by the Army’s Judge Advocate General to be the law officer for the general court-martial and on his shoulders rested the responsibility to ensure that a mistrial didn’t happen. “But to ensure we don’t cause a mistrial, I recommend that this group doesn’t meet again until they’re in court.”
“I agree. I just wanted to let all of you know how severe the consequences can be.” The lieutenant general looked over at Koch. “You’re going to have a very tough task ensuring that the proceedings at Camp McCall are secure, but I don’t think you’ll have too much of a problem, seeing that you command a couple of thousand of the best soldiers in the world.”
Major General Koch nodded.
“I hope that you’re planning on using loaded weapons?”
Koch smiled a weak grin and nodded.
“Good… we don’t want a repeat of what almost happened at Leavenworth. Don’t forget—the press will be allowed in the courtroom.”
Major General Koch’s face went white again. He hadn’t figured that he would have to deal with the press, but James had a constitutional right to an open trial.
“We can help you out there.” Manning, from the FBI, spoke up. “We’ve issued most of the major press corps clearances and have a pretty good idea which ones are procommunist and tend to support the radical groups.”
“Thanks.” Koch’s voice was weak.
“Before we close this meeting…” the lieutenant general looked at the psychiatrist, “can you tell us anything about our prime witness?”
“Well, sir, I know you understand that almost everything that takes place between a patient and his psychiatrist is confidential—”
“I know that, Colonel! Is he healthy enough to take the bench at James’s trail, is what I want to know!”
“Yes sir… he’s a very tough young man.”
“I hear that the President is going to present him the Medal of Honor next week.” The lieutenant general’s comment caught the attention of everyone in the room.
“I hope so.” Lieutenant Colonel Martin let the comment slip out.
“What do you mean?”
“Corporal Barnett has refused to accept the award.” Martin’s voice lowered.
“He’s refused our country’s highest award?”
“Yes sir.”
“That’s ridiculous!” The senior officer couldn’t imagine anyone turning down the most coveted award in the military. Preposterous!
“He has refused even to be fitted for a uniform. I’ve been working with him since he was released from the POW camp in Laos, and I must say he’s a hardheaded young man.” Martin sighed as if to emphasize his efforts at helping the troubled soldier.
“Well, we can’t allow him to refuse the award!” The lieutenant general hit the conference table with his fist. “Do you know what that will do to this court-martial? How will it look? Our prime witness refusing his country’s highest award! The defense will tear us apart!”
The psychiatrist nodded in agreement with the general and then shrugged and added, “I can try talking to him again, sir.”
“Try! You will convince him.” The lieutenant general huffed and then added, “What in the hell do you psychiatrists do?”
Colonel Sinclair smiled and cut in. “General, if you don’t mind… I might be able to help.”
“How?” The senior officer was angry.
“I might be able to persuade this young man to accept the award.”
The lieutenant general looked at Sinclair through the cloud of pipe smoke that divided them, then he looked back at the psychiatrist. He saw the worry creep into the medical man’s eyes over the suggestion. “Fine… I’ll have a pass waiting for you at the main desk at Walter Reed. When can you go see him?”
“Right after this meeting?”
“Excellent!” the lieutenant general agreed.
“Sir! I don’t think that’s a very good idea. A stranger visiting Corporal Barnett might upset him too much and give him a relapse.” The psychiatrist was worried. He wanted to have at least a couple of hours with Barnett before the colonel talked with him.
“Bullshit! Colonel Sinclair isn’t going to send the boy back to a POW camp! Personally… ” The general pointed at the psychiatrist with the chewed end of his pipe stem, “I think you damn shrinks do more damage to a person than good!”
The psychiatrist’s face turned red.
The senior general sensed that he had hit his target and added, “You stay away from this corporal until Colonel Sinclair has talked with him.”
“Sir! I’m a medical psychiatrist! You can’t order me away from my patient!” Martin’s professional honor was at stake.
“No… but I am the president of the colonel’s promotion board that goes in session tomorrow....”
Lieutenant Colonel Martin lowered his eyes to the floor. He wasn’t going to screw up his chances for early promotion over one soldier. What he failed to realize was that the general had already made up his mind.
“All right, gentlemen, you all know what you have to do.Let’s make sure it’s done right.” The lieutenant general stood up, signaling that the meeting was over. “But, before we go...”
The men in the room stopped moving around and looked at the general.
“I know it looks bad for Specialist James. There is a lot of evidence against him and the charges are numerous… but, he is still a soldier in the United States Army and a citizen of this great country… He will be given all the rights due him. Am I understood?”
Every man in the room nodded in agreement.
Colonel Sinclair left his car in the front parking lot of the huge hospital complex and entered through the double doors. He began doubting himself just about the time he felt the air-conditioned breeze rush past him. He wanted to turn around and follow the cool air back outside but caught himself. He had opened his big mouth in front of the generals and now he was obligated to at least try to talk to the young soldier. He had never met Corporal Barnett, but his son had spoken often about him and Woods.
The pass was waiting for him at the main desk, with the room number for Barnett written in the left-hand corner. Sinclair took the center corridor. The halls were crowded with doctors and patients. The Vietnam War had brought a lot of wounded to the medical center and the surgeons were some of the best in the world.
Colonel Sinclair paused at the nurses’ station in the wing Barnett was in and noticed that all the signs stated that the area was a security zone. Cyclone gates separated the wing from the rest of the hospital.
“Excuse me, nurse… could you direct me to room 131?”
A pretty, young nurse looked up from her chart and smiled. “First closed door on your right.”
“Thanks.” Colonel Sinclair walked briskly down the hall. The creases in his pressed khakis snapped against the tops of his spit-shined shoes. He took a deep breath, knocked on the closed door, then entered after hearing a muffled “Come in.”
He didn’t really know what to expect when he entered the room, but what confronted him caught him completely off guard.
Spencer had placed two chairs in front of the window; he lay across them, with his pajama bottoms rolled up as high on his legs as he could. He lay with his hands folded behind his head in the direct rays of the bright sunlight coming through the window. The young soldier didn’t open his eyes.
“Yes?”
Colonel Sinclair took a couple of seconds to study the soldier before answering. Spencer was well tanned and the colonel could see that the youn
g man was recovering well from his POW experience, at least physically. A few blue-red scars showed up on his side and across his stomach, but the soldier’s muscle mass was returning.
Spencer turned his head in the direction of the colonel but kept his eyes closed. “Can I help you? I’m getting some rays right now, and as you can see, it doesn’t last very long before the buildings block it out again.”
“I’ve come to draw some blood samples.”
“Fuck! Again!” Spencer shifted his position on the hard chairs.
“Sorry.” Sinclair smiled. He didn’t know why he had said that to the soldier.
“How much?”
“A couple of quarts.”
“What!” Spencer sat up and looked over at the smiling officer. “Who are you?”
“A friend.”
Immediately a suspicious look filled Spencer’s eyes. “Of who?”
“Actually, I’m a friend of some of your friends.”
“That fucking psychiatrist isn’t a friend of mine.”
Colonel Sinclair tilted his head slightly to one side. He found Barnett’s comment interesting. “Why? Don’t you like your doctor?”
“Not really. Are you a shrink?”
“Hardly… I’m an infantry officer.”
“I can handle that.... I’m recon out of the First Cay.” Spencer’s voice carried his pride in his unit.
“I know.”
The question appeared through Spencer’s eyes.
Colonel Sinclair saw the flicker of mischievous light in Spencer’s eyes and agreed with his son partially: Spencer did look like a cocky bantam rooster, but the gleam in the young soldier’s eye reminded the old warrior more of a mischievous elf. Spencer was small framed but layered with a strong set of muscles. The young man’s real strength, though, was inside the layer of skin, deep inside.
“My son was on your recon team.”
A light broke through Spencer’s eyes and the blue brightened as he read the colonel’s nametag. “Reggie?”
Sinclair nodded.
“He was just here with the kids!” The natural curl at the corners of his mouth enlarged as he smiled. “Why didn’t you tell me right away who you were? I thought you were one of those damn head doctors… man, am I sick of them.”
“Why are you being kept in here?” Colonel Sinclair looked around the room and asked a blunt question: “Are you violent?”
“I can be.”
Sinclair glanced up and saw the mischievous smile again. “You like to jack people around, don’t you?”
“Some people more than others.”
“I like you.” The honest, open comment caught Spencer unprepared to answer. Sinclair walked over to the open window and reached up to gently shake the Cyclone screen. “This place would drive me nuts.”
“Me too.” Spencer hopped up onto his bed and dangled his feet over the edge. “It was sure good seeing Jean-Paul and Trung again. It was nice of you to take them in.”
“Not really...”
Spencer stared at the colonel, trying to figure out what he meant.
“They’ve brought more to my family than they’ve taken from us… much more.”
Spencer blinked. “Now I know why Reggie and Woods talked so much about you in Vietnam.”
“Yeah… I met Woods when I was visiting Reggie in the hospital. He was a really impressive soldier.”
Spencer smiled. “Woods is a pussy!”
“He sure likes you.”
“He’s queer.”
Sinclair laughed at the intimating comment. He knew exactly what Spencer was trying to do.
“I don’t know what for. You don’t seem to be good-looking enough to attract that kind of person.”
Spencer knew that the colonel wasn’t going to fall for his game.
“Woods was really worried about you back there. He felt that it was his fault that you were captured.”
“He’s overprotective.”
“He’s a damn good friend.”
“I know that!” Spencer snapped.
“Well, you’re going to let him down and Reggie too.”
“I’ll never let my recon buddies down… never!” Spencer stood up and faced the colonel.
“How do you think they’re going to feel if one of their own teammates turns down a Medal of Honor?”
“So that’s why you’re here!”
Colonel Sinclair nodded and stared directly into Spencer’s eyes.
“Well, go back and tell that fucking shrink that it isn’t going to work!” Spencer turned his back on the colonel to hide the tears. He was starting to break and he knew it. That bastard was using his friends and their families to get to him.
“Lieutenant Colonel Martin isn’t the one who sent me here.... In fact, he was very upset when I told him that I was coming.”
Spencer spun around to check the colonel’s eyes to see if he was lying.
“I’m not lying to you, Spence.” The colonel used the name that his son used when referring to Barnett.
The young soldier stared at the colonel and searched his face for any sign that the officer was in league with the psychiatrist. Spencer’s lower lip quivered.
“It’s all right, Spence....” Colonel Sinclair held out his arms and the seventeen-year-old warrior who had stood up to horrible NVA torture, juvenile homes, and abuse from stepparents took a step forward and let the dam break.
Colonel Sinclair held the soldier and felt his own heart ache. Spencer cried quietly but the old warrior could feel him shaking. The tears were soaking through his khaki shirt but the colonel didn’t care. What was taking place in the hospital room was something that should have happened a long time ago, but Spencer needed to be near someone he trusted before he could allow that to happen. Reggie Sinclair’s dad was that kind of person. He understood and didn’t judge.
A knock on the door interrupted the emotional scene.
“Give us a couple of minutes!” Colonel Sinclair yelled through the closed door and received a muffled reply.
Spencer went into the bathroom and washed his face while the colonel blotted his shirt with a clean napkin. Spencer stepped out of the bathroom holding a towel. “I screwed up your shirt. Fuck… crying like a baby… I must be really fucked up.”
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Spence.... Don’t tell anyone, but I cried in Korea… in Vietnam… and in fact, I just cried last week when they buried a good friend of mine in Arlington.” Sinclair smiled. “Warriors cry too.”
Spencer tried grinning. “Yeah… it did make me feel a little better.”
“Watch out, though—too much crying will make you queer.” It was the colonel’s turn to grin.
“Shit!” Spencer fell back into his old role. “This here white trash from South Carolina has had too much pussy to turn back now!”
“Right! You and Reggie both!”
“I can’t speak for your son.” Spencer smiled a wide, honest smile. The tears had washed away a lot of his pain.
“What can I do for you, Spence?”
“Can you get me out of here?”
“Where do you want to go?”
“Sir, this place is driving me nuts!” Spencer’s voice lowered. “Anywhere… just a couple of weeks… maybe up in the Blue Ridge Mountains. I know a nurse here who might let me use her family’s summer home.”
“Call her in here.” Colonel Sinclair knew that he was sticking his neck out, but he also knew that if Spencer broke, a great deal would be lost, and that included the young soldier himself.
Colonel Sinclair waited in the stuffed chair while Spencer ran out the door and over to the nurses’ station. He returned a couple of minutes later pulling the same cute nurse Sinclair had seen when he arrived.
“Sir... this is Mary.” Spencer almost stuttered in his excitement.
“Mary?” Sinclair smiled. “Enlisted men now call lieutenants by their first names?”
Spencer and Mary blushed. “Come on, sir... give us a break.”
“Yes, we have a place up in the Shenandoah Valley, but—” “But what?” Sinclair had already guessed what was coming next.
“But… we’ve made a rule that when someone is up there a member of the family has to be there also. I have a couple of weeks’ leave coming to me.” Mary smiled shyly at Spencer.
“Sounds like a bribe to me.” Sinclair kept smiling.
“It is.” Mary touched Spencer’s hand.
“Let me make a couple of telephone calls.” Colonel Sinclair turned to leave. “Would you give me the address, please?”
“Sure. Let me walk you out to the desk and I’ll get a pad and pen.” Mary squeezed Spencer’s hand and let go.
“Spence, pack up your things. I’m going to try to get you released from here today.”
“Today?”
“Within the hour, I hope.”
“Colonel.”
Sinclair paused in the doorway.
“You’re right about the medal. If I don’t take it, guys like Billy-Bob, Lee San Ko, Kirkpatrick, and Clancy Brown will never be remembered. I owe it to my team.”
Sinclair nodded in agreement. “As long as you live and have a mouth, they’ll never be forgotten.”
Spencer nodded and turned to look out the window. He felt like crying again, but that would be too much. Once in a lifetime was enough for white trash out of South Carolina.
Mary looked up from the note she had written for the colonel with the address of their summer home on it. “Colonel, I don’t know why you’re doing this for Spencer, but it’s the best thing that could happen to him right now. Thank you.”
Colonel Sinclair smiled. “No thanks necessary. Spencer Barnett doesn’t know it, but he saved my son’s life.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Montagnards
Heat seemed to radiate off everything in the jungle in the form of steam. The rain had just stopped and as soon as the clouds disappeared the tropical sun beat down on the wet vegetation.
Court Martial Page 6
