Court Martial

by Donald E. Zlotnik

  The Bru chieftain was waiting just inside a cave entrance forarnason and his recon team. He used the interpreter to thank them for the supplies and then he told the Sedang that the Americans would have to go back to South Vietnam. The rest of the caves were secret and the Bru would not risk showing them to any outsiders.

  Arnason understood. He smiled and waved goodbye to the Bru chief. He was glad that he could move his team out of the area now that the NVA had been alerted and were starting to search the jungle. If they stayed in the caves for another day, they would be trapped there for at least a couple of weeks until the area cooled off.

  Warner looked at the map andarnason shot a direction with his compass. They both agreed on their location and Warner took a couple of minutes to orient himself before taking the point for the recon team. They would have to move fast. Right before they left, a pair of Bru warriors approached the interpreter and told him that they would guide the team to the border. The Bru realized even more than the Americans did that speed was very important if the Americans were going to escape the closing NVA circle around the area.

  The small recon team moved quickly through the jungle. Too fast for Woods andarnason, but they figured the Bru warriors knew where they were going and he was sure that the old chief wouldn’t let their guides move so fast unless the trail was safe and protected by Bru scouts. They came to the edge of the river that divided Laos from South Vietnam before nightfall and thanked their guides before they left. It would be a short wait until it was dark enough to cross the river and make it to the abandoned fire-support base that was their pickup site.

  Arnason leaned back against his pack and spun the Montagnard bracelet around his wrist. He figured there had to be at least three ounces of pure gold in the band, but the artwork was fantastic, especially for the Montagnards, who were a practical people and didn’t waste time on detailed carvings.

  Woods slipped over next to the team leader and smiled. He pointed at his bracelet and nodded. Arnason frowned and leaned forward so Woods could whisper in his ear. “Good trade… huh?”

  Arnason smiled and agreed with his assistant team leader. It has been a very good mission and the knife for the gold band was a good trade. Just how good a deal it was would be proved in the months to come.

  Captain Youngbloode sat on the hood of his jeep and watched the helicopter grow in the sky as it flew in from the west. He wore a very worried expression on his face. He was quite happy that the whole team had made it back safely from the high-risk mission, but it was the briefing he had received from the division’s intelligence officers and the CIA agent that caused the deep furrows across his brow. He had never met Specialist Mohammed James, but he had read the reports and was disgusted with the man’s conduct. James had set the American black soldier back a hundred years with his conduct, and Youngbloode had agreed that if what James was suspected of doing got out to the line troops in Vietnam, there would be rioting and the outcome of the war would be in severe jeopardy.

  Youngbloode pressed his lips tightly together. He was angry. Guys like James screwed it up every time and had done so since the Civil War. The Youngbloodes were a proud black family and had done their share in America, but now it was time to move on, back to the old country, and rebuild from there.

  The chopper touched down on the pad.arnason could see the grim expression on his company commander’s face and instantly became worried. The captain usually was smiling when a team came back from the field in one piece. Something was bothering him.

  Woods waited until they had cleared the helicopter before talking to Arnason. “What’s wrong with the captain?”

  “I don’t know.” Arnason’s voice reflected his worry. “I hope it isn’t something we’ve done.” Arnason’s thoughts were on their recent mission. He was hoping that the NVA hadn’t found the Bru village and wiped it out.

  Arnason saluted the captain and smiled. “It’s nice to be back, sir.”

  Youngbloode nodded and returned the salute. “I’m glad it went so well.”

  “Perfect! The Bru have the supplies and they made the whole team Bru tribesmen!” arnason added, “Thanks to Spencer Barnett.”

  Youngbloode nodded. “Speaking of Corporal Barnett…”

  Woods’s face turned white and he looked over at Arnason, who instantly became worried.

  “Nothing’s wrong with him?” arnason asked.

  “No… no, he’s doing fine.” Youngbloode took a deep breath and looked his sergeant directly in the eyes. “It’s James… they’re going to court-martial him.”

  “I expected as much,” arnason stated.

  “Back at Fort Bragg…” Youngbloode forced a smile. o “You and Sergeant Woods are being called back as witnesses.”

  “Us?” arnason was shocked. “Going back to the States?” It had been years since he had been back to the States.

  “Yes… you’ll be leaving this afternoon by Lear jet to Saigon and then by special aircraft to California,” Youngbloode explained. “They’ll brief you on the way down to Saigon. Right now, get your gear turned in to the supply room.”

  “I can’t go.... What about the rest of my team?” arnason was groping for an excuse to stay in Vietnam.

  “They’re being sent to Australia on R and R for a week… courtesy of the CIA.” Youngbloode glanced over at the three men.

  Sanchez slapped Warner’s shoulder. “Yeah!”

  “Shower and change uniforms… you have an hour.” Youngbloode slid onto the front seat of his jeep and waved for his driver to leave. “That’s an order, Sergeant!”

  “Yes sir.” Arnason’s shoulders drooped. He didn’t want to go back to the States. He had been in Vietnam over four years straight and had sworn that he wouldn’t leave until the war was over.

  “Come on, Sarge! It’s not that bad back there in the land of the big PX!” Woods tried cheering up his team leader.

  “Shut up, Woods!” Arnason broke away from his number two man. “Just shut the fuck up!” He started running toward the fighting bunker that RT Bad News used for a team hooch.

  “What’s that all about?” Warner asked, shrugging.

  “It’s a long story.” Woods watched his leader run across the open red-dust clearing and disappear into the black opening.

  War had a way of fucking up a man’s mind.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  A Gathering of Warriors

  He sat on the top railing of the old split-rail fence and watched the red-tailed hawk disappear into the meadow carpeted with Queen Anne’s lace and islands of yellow and orange hawkweed. The bird of prey lifted up off the ground after hopping a half-dozen steps. A young first-litter rabbit hung from one of the bird’s talons and kicked its hind legs in a futile attempt to free itself from the death grip.

  Spencer Barnett watched the bloody, early morning scene with a tinge of sadness. Death seemed to haunt the earth; something always had to die to make room for something new. The thought bothered him. He inhaled a deep lungful of moist mountain air and smelled the sweet scent of honeysuckle from a nearby vine. A thick mist rolled over the meadow from its hiding place in the Christmas-tree forest that bordered the south slope of the meadow. The large stand of pine and blue spruce had been planted over fifty years earlier by one of the original settlers in the valley and had grown wild.

  Mary walked down the double-rutted jeep trail holding a steaming mug of coffee in each hand. She saw Spencer perched on the fence and changed her course.

  “I’m glad I found you before the coffee got cold.” She handed him a mug and joined him on the fence. “See anything this morning worth talking about?” She smiled around the lip of her mug.

  “Flowers…” Spencer skipped over the hawk incident and the thoughts it had caused in his mind.

  “You do know a lot about wild flowers.” Mary reached down with her free hand and plucked a stalk containing bright blue flower heads that were just beginning to open in the early morning light. “What’s this called?”

&
nbsp; “Chicory… Do you know that each flower only lasts one day and then it dies. The roots can be dried and used as a coffee substitute.”

  Mary gave Spencer a teasing look out of the corner of her eye and plucked another nearby flower from its stalk. “And this?”

  Spencer grinned. “Poison ivy.”

  Mary dropped the bright orange flower and gasped.

  “I’m just kidding—that’s butterfly weed. The pioneers called it ‘pleurisy root’ because the Indians said it cured pulmonary ailments.”

  Mary looked down at the beautiful flower with more interest. Her nurse’s curiosity made her slip off the railing and pick up the orange flower for a closer inspection. “Really? That’s interesting.... Where did you learn all this stuff about wild flowers?”

  A long silence filled the morning air. The heavy dew made the moment seem even longer before Spencer answered her. “When I was in the foster care system down in South Carolina, one of my foster fathers taught me. The family lived on a farm.”

  “One of your foster fathers?”

  “Yeah… the social workers believed in moving us around so we wouldn’t become too attached to a family.”

  “That doesn’t make sense.”

  The look Spencer flashed at her told Mary that he agreed with her statement but there was a lot more to the story. “I know it doesn’t, but what makes sense to us doesn’t necessary make sense to a children’s welfare system that draws money from the state for each child in the system.”

  “In other words—the social workers don’t want a kid to get out of the system once they’re in it?”

  “Bingo! Girl, you’re smart!” Spencer was being sarcastic. “I call them emotional vampires… real vampires drink your blood, but these creatures feed off the emotions of others… probably because they don’t have any of their own.”

  “What’s this?” Mary used another wild flower to change the subject. She could tell that Spencer was becoming upset.

  He glanced at the golden orange trumpet-shaped flower. “It’s a touch-me-not.”

  Mary giggled. “A what?”

  “Touch-me-not.” Spencer slipped down off the fence and walked over to the low growth. “Actually, this should be growing closer to water.... Watch…” He gently shook the plant and a soft popping sound filled the air.

  “What’s happening?” Mary slipped off the fence and stood next to Spencer in the waist-high tangle of wild flowers and weeds.

  “The seed pods explode when a strong wind shakes the plant or when an animal brushes past it.” Spencer looked at Mary out of the corner of his eye.

  She casually slipped her hand up over the back pocket of his worn Levi’s and under his denim jacket. Spencer wasn’t wearing a shirt. She set her coffee cup on top of a fence post and wrapped her arms around his waist from behind. Spencer stopped shaking the plant. With her fingernail she traced along the hair of his trail-to-paradise and stopped when she reached the waistband of his Levi’s to draw tiny circles against his stomach.

  “That’s dangerous....” Spencer’s voice was husky.

  “You said that animals make the seed pods explode when they brush a touch-me-not. Well… I’m a touch-meoften.… Make me explode.”

  Spencer turned around to face her and saw the look in her eyes. He used his boots to flatten a spot in the meadow and slipped his jacket off for her to lie on. Mary rubbed her hand against the growing bulge in Spencer’s Levi’s and pulled him down on top of her. The smell of wild flowers and the soft hum of the bees provided the extras for their early morning lovemaking.

  The FBI agent dropped his binoculars and looked at his partner. “I think that kid is a billygoat.”

  “Again?” The other FBI agent chuckled.

  “Yeah… again.” The agent using the binoculars shook his head. “Well, I don’t give a damn what the chief said—I’m not going to sit up here and watch those kids screw.”

  “It’s your decision, but you know the rules—they’re not to be out of our sight.”

  “They’re not! We both know where they’re at!”

  The agent shrugged and kept the grin on his face. It was almost funny how often the kid and the nurse had sex. The jungles of Vietnam must have really built up a reserve in the boy.

  Mary lay in Spencer’s arms and looked up at the white clouds floating by. “Spencer Barnett, it gets better every time we do it.”

  “Thanks.” He tickled her left nipple with his dry lips.

  “Oh!” She feebly tried rolling away from him but the touch felt too good.

  Spencer stopped and rolled over onto his back. He could feel the cool dew-covered grass against his back. Mary cuddled closer to him and shivered. “You cold?”

  “No…” She sighed and nuzzled his chest with the tip of her nose. “I love you, Spencer Barnett.”

  “Me or my Great White?”

  Mary chuckled. Her warm breath slipped across his chest and tickled. “Both of you… but I wouldn’t call it the Great White.”

  “Oh?” Spencer shifted his position on the ground. “What would you call him?”

  Mary waited until she knew Spencer was becoming irritated before answering him. “Oh, I’d call him… the most spectacular gigantic lady-pleaser that ever was attached to a man.”

  “That’ll do.” Spencer shrugged. “But let’s call him the Great White for short.”

  Mary dropped her hand and felt Spencer’s Great White. He was resting. “Are you done?”

  “For now.”

  “Are you trying to tell me that that’s it?” Mary teased.

  “Sure… unless you want to do it again with that huge spider watching us.” Spencer pointed to the large black-and yellow Argiope spider in the center of her two-foot-wide web, which was only inches away from their feet.

  “Agh!” Mary jumped up and stepped back away from the spider web . She shivered. “Oh , Spencer! Was that there all the time?”

  “Yep.”

  “Oh! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “She doesn’t care. I was more worried about bothering her than her bothering us.”

  “Let’s go.” Mary turned to walk back to the jeep trail.

  “Aren’t you going to get dressed first?” Spencer started Laughing. Mary’s blouse was off and her jeans were unbuttoned.

  “Yes!” She started reaching down for her blouse and shivered again. “You pick it up, please… and shake it out.”

  Spencer smiled and reached down for the blouse. “Women!”

  “And lead the way back to the trail!” Mary exaggerated her directive.

  “If it wasn’t for that patch of fur...”

  “Well… that’s something you can’t change!”

  Spencer stepped out onto the jeep trail and turned to take Mary in his arms. They hugged for a couple of minutes. “That’s something I have no desire to change, young lady.”

  “Good.” She kissed him. “But could you do something about those spiders in the meadow?”

  “Like what?” Spencer took her hand and started walking back toward the cabin.

  “Spray them or something…”

  Spencer started laughing and Mary tried hitting him with her blouse, which she was still carrying in her hand.

  The FBI agent kept the binoculars up to his eyes. “It must be nice to be a kid again.”

  “What are they doing?” His partner leaned the 306 against a nearby tree, making sure the scope didn’t bang against the trunk.

  “Walking back toward the cabin on the jeep trail.” The agent shook his head and then stopped. The movement was making him sick, looking through the glasses. “She’s not wearing a blouse or a bra.”

  “Let me see!” The rifleman reached for the binos.

  “Absolutely not! J. Edgar Hoover would throw you out of the Agency if he heard you say that!”

  “You’re looking!”

  “Yeah, but I’m on duty.” The FBI agent lowered his binos for a second and glanced over at his partner. “Besides… I’ve a
daughter that old.”

  “Fine, tell that to our supervisor… but if that young soldier down there ever finds out that we’ve been watching him through binoculars…”

  “I can guess what he’ll do. I understand he’s going to the White House next week to receive a Medal of Honor.” The agent swept the meadow with the binoculars as he talked. He was a professional and knew what he was looking for as he paused in each of the shadows the trees made along the edge of the forest. The information they had received was that a secret sect was going to assassinate Spencer Barnett and the other key witnesses to the James court-martial before the court convened at Fort Bragg, North Carolina.

  Spencer paused when they reached the last turn in the trail. “You’d better slip on your blouse before we reach the cabin. I wouldn’t want those FBI agents checking out my woman.”

  Mary shook her blouse and checked the sleeves for spiders before slipping it on. She shuddered involuntarily and reached for Spencer’s hand.

  “I love you, Mary.”

  She looked up at him and smiled. “I love you too, Spencer Barnett.”

  “I don’t think I could handle it if something bad happened to you.”

  “What makes you say that, Spencer Barnett?” She loved the sound of his full name and always referred to him in private as Spencer Barnett.

  The two of them made the last turn in the trail and looked up at the back deck of the large mountain cabin. Mary’s father had built the new log structure only the year before and had torn down the old cottage that overlooked the private lake. He had done an excellent job and the whole effect was nothing less than spectacular. A private raised wooden deck went from the master bedroom through a small stand of spruce and sweet-smelling easter red cedar out to a screened gazebo that was built overhanging the shoreline of the lake. He had built it especially for his wife, who loved to sit near the water late at night. She had died before she had a chance to use it, and now only Mary would go out there to be close to her mother.