by Howard Fast
“I withdraw that question.”
“Strike it from the record, Sergeant Debbs,” Mayburt said to the court reporter.
“When you began the search for Lieutenant Winston, it was your intention to take him alive—was it not, Sergeant?”
“It was.”
“Why did you desire to take him alive?”
Sergeant Johnson hesitated, then blurted out, “Because Lieutenant Winston was insane! And I did not want the blood of an insane man on my hands!”
All three men of the prosecution rose to the objection. Winston himself raised his bent head and looked dully at Johnson. Wells and Coombs sank back to their seats. General Kempton, staring coolly and deliberately, attempted to catch Adams’ glance; but Barney Adams watched the court, his face placid, his blue eyes mildly questioning.
Angry and frustrated, Major Smith denied Sergeant Johnson’s competence. “I move that the question and answer be stricken.”
Colonel Thompson made no reply to this. Colonel Mayburt passed him a note. Still Colonel Thompson did not react. Then he leaned across to Mayburt, and they talked in whispers for about a minute. Finally, Colonel Thompson nodded and then relaxed in his chair.
Colonel Mayburt said: “Your objection to the competence of Sergeant Johnson’s opinion, Major Smith, can only be sustained if he were to offer it as a diagnosis, which he is obviously not qualified to make. However, he is giving his reason for failing to take an action. This testimony is proper to cross-examination, and I cannot sustain an objection unless he offers the same opinion as a pretense at diagnosis.”
Mayburt then turned to Adams and said, “You understand the position of the court, Captain Adams. You can elicit testimony from Sergeant Johnson on the facts of the night in question. You cannot probe into the reasons upon which Sergeant Johnson bases his answer.”
“May it please the court,” Adams said, “under these circumstances, I will reserve the right to recall this witness as a witness for the defense.”
“That is your privilege, sir. I am sure you recognize that since Sergeant Johnson is a member of the British Armed Forces, he can appear only with the consent of his superior officers.”
“Yes, sir. I do recognize that fact.”
Thompson now said, a faint, muted note of anger in his voice, “Do you have any other questions, Captain Adams?”
“No, sir, I do not.”
Wells and Coombs were whispering with Smith when Colonel Thompson turned to them. “Major Smith?”
Smith spread his hands to halt the conference, wearily nodding his submission. He rose to his feet.
“You may have the witness for redirect examination.”
“There are no further questions, sir.”
Colonel Thompson nodded and said to Johnson, “You will stand down, Sergeant. You are to hold yourself in waiting at the witness room, unless otherwise instructed.”
He pursed his lips and looked at his watch. “Court will adjourn until one o’clock.”
Monday 12.10 P.M.
Lieutenant Bender had recommended the Chin Lee Soong, a Chinese restaurant, as a quiet place where they could eat lunch and talk. Corporal Baxter dropped them off there, and then took the jeep to the hospital to pick up Lieutenant Sorenson.
Under Bender’s guidance, they had ordered a casserole of chicken cooked with pineapple and water chestnuts. Moscow and Adams only played with their food; Bender ate with the appetite of a man who has not seen food for days. To Adams, it did not taste like any chicken he had ever encountered, though the food was delicious, and he asked Bender what kind of chicken it was.
“Oh, it’s not chicken, sir, it’s pork.”
“Then why do they call it chicken?”
“The Moslems, sir. They don’t want to offend any Moslems.”
“I should think the Moslems would be more offended by being tricked.”
“No, sir, they’re not tricked at all. No Moslem ever eats in a Chinese restaurant.”
“I wouldn’t press it, Captain,” Moscow said. “Just let Harvey eat.”
“Yes—I suppose so.”
“Please, sir,” Moscow said, “I can’t get it out of my mind. When you began your line of questioning, you knew just where you were going. But how could you have known that Johnson would come right out and call Winston insane?”
“I didn’t know.”
“But you must have had some inkling—”
“There had to be some reason for the delay. I’ve seen the type of British soldier Johnson is. A pistol wouldn’t stop him. But the implication of cowardice was more than he could bear.”
“Do you think they’ll let him testify for us, sir?” Bender asked.
“I wouldn’t call him,” Adams said. “There’s nothing he could add to his testimony that we need.”
“This morning,” Moscow said thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t have given a dollar to win twenty that there was any chance for an acquittal.”
“And now, Lieutenant?”
“I’ll be honest with you, Captain Adams. Now I’m afraid. It’s like stopping a tank with your bare hands. Even if you stop it, it’s got to roll over you. Up until now—well, I won’t speak for Harvey, but for me it was like a game. They held all the cards. God, I said to myself, what a thing to pull this off—what a ramrod to shove up the ass of that snot-nose Morty Coombs. But I didn’t believe it.”
Adams looked at Bender, who went on eating silently and deliberately. Then Baxter came into the restaurant, with Kate Sorenson.
The three men rose, and Adams introduced the two lieutenants. Then he said to Baxter, “Sit down at a table over there, Corporal, and have some lunch. We’ll leave here at exactly ten minutes to one. You’re my guest this time.”
“Look, Captain, you don’t have to buy me lunch.”
“Only when I choose the restaurant, Baxter. Go on, now—we have little enough time.”
Baxter sat down at a table across the room and ordered lunch. Lieutenant Bender heaped a plateful of food for Kate Sorenson, who was watching Adams strangely and newly, as if she had not seen him before. He himself was thinking that he had not seen her face by daylight. He could not really remember the woman in Major Kaufman’s office; this was another person.
“I’m very glad to see you, Barney. How did it go this morning?”
“As well as I could have expected.”
Lieutenant Bender opened his mouth, began to say something, and then swallowed his words. Moscow was watching Sorenson with undisguised approval.
“You got my note, of course?” Sorenson said.
“Yes. But you don’t have to do this, Kate. As a matter of fact, I don’t want you to.”
“You didn’t feel that way about Max Kaufman.”
Groping for his words, Adams said to her, “Until now, Kate, it was different. Lieutenant Moscow here said that it was like a game for him. Maybe it was like a game for me, too. Today, I’m too old to play games any more. I’m going to win this case because it must be won. I can’t spell that out yet, because I’m still grappling with it in my own mind, but I know it. And if it is won, people will be hurt.”
“I’ve been hurt before,” she said.
“Will it do any good to argue with you?”
“No, it won’t.”
“Very well. Show me the letter.”
Sorenson took a folded piece of paper out of her purse and handed it to Adams. He read it slowly and thoughtfully, while his two assistants watched him with unconcealed curiosity. Then he refolded the letter and handed it back to the nurse.
“I won’t begin my own case until tomorrow,” he said. “You will have to be at the Judge Advocate General’s all day—unless I begin early. Corporal Baxter will pick you up along with Major Kaufman at about nine in the morning. Is that all right?”
She nodded. Adams turned to his assistants. “Which one of you knows something about the local university?”
“It’s not much of a university, sir,” Moscow replied. “Not in our terms
. Their plant is falling in, and the teachers are even poorer than the pupils. I guess Harvey knows the place better than I do.”
“I gave a lecture there on Anglo-Saxon common law last month,” Bender admitted. “It wasn’t much of a lecture, sir, but I was dating a girl from the faculty and I couldn’t very well refuse when she asked me.”
“Bender, I want a handwriting expert,” Adams said. “I can’t think of any other place where I might get one. What are the chances of finding one there?”
“Heaven only knows, sir. I can’t think of any reason why they should have one.”
“Suppose you find out. If you can’t find one at the university, put out feelers wherever you can, the local police, the enlisted men—wherever you can. Come to think of it, the local police must know of a handwriting expert. When you find him, try to persuade him to be a witness tomorrow. His expenses will be paid, and I’ll stand for any extra loss he may feel he must take.”
“Suppose he won’t respond to persuasion?”
“Don’t threaten any subpoena unless you have to.”
“Shall I tell him what case it is?”
“You’ll have to—of course. But the fewer details you offer, the better.”
Sorenson said, “If other things fail, try the offices of the Daily Announcer. Ask for a reporter called Sundar Jatee. He thinks well of the captain, and he’s not too afraid.”
“Good idea,” Adams agreed. “Now, I want you to remain here with Lieutenant Sorenson until Baxter returns. You can have the jeep and Baxter until court adjourns.”
Baxter was at the table now, glancing at his watch. Adams looked at Sorenson searchingly. “Thank you, Kate,” he said.
Monday 1.00 P.M.
When the court convened for its afternoon session, Major Smith put Corporal Robert Goldman on the stand. Corporal Goldman was a stolid young man with sandy hair, pale blue eyes, and a painstakingly deliberate manner of answering questions. Adams was not surprised to hear that Goldman had not lost his head or become’ unduly disturbed on the night in question; the corporal gave the impression that nothing on earth could disturb him and that midnight murders were not uncommon in his life.
His story was essentially the same as Sergeant Johnson’s, except that he had awakened a few moments later, and reached the door to the separate room where Johnson and Quinn slept just as Winston opened fire.
When Goldman had finished testifying, Colonel Thompson nodded at Adams and said, “You may cross-examine, Captain Adams.”
“I have no questions,” Adams replied. Both Smith and Thompson were startled; and Adams wondered whether he had just seen a trace of a smile on Colonel Mayburt’s face. He couldn’t be sure.
Moscow passed him a note, which said, “I like that It was damn good timing.”
“Now, I think, they are beginning to doubt just a little,” Adams whispered to him. He saw Winston sitting motionless, hands clasped in his lap.
Moscow began to write as Major Smith called Colonel Archer Burton to the stand. The note Moscow handed to Adams now read: “Winston spoke to me on the way in. He said, God will emerge and strike today. He said that his side is inflamed with a red spot where God is trying to come out. That is why he is sitting so still. To help God. Is this a line?”
Adams wrote, “No,” and passed the note back.
Colonel Burton was sworn in. He gave his name and his rank. He stated that he was commanding officer at the General Hospital, and then he answered a number of questions concerning the table of organization at the hospital.
“On the morning that Lieutenant Winston was admitted to the hospital—were you there, Colonel Burton?”
“I was at the hospital. I believe that at the precise time Lieutenant Winston was admitted, I was in my office, discussing our surgical service with Colonel Hale, our chief of surgery.”
“Were you notified of his admittance, Colonel?”
“Not until four hours later. It was not until then that I heard about the murder. Headquarters called me. Captain Greene, my assistant, was with me. He told me that this man, Lieutenant Winston, had been admitted to the hospital that morning.”
“Was it ordinary procedure, Colonel, to admit patients without notifying you?”
“Yes, ordinary procedure. But this was not an ordinary patient. Major Kaufman, the physician who admitted him, should have notified me immediately.”
“But he did not?”
“No, sir, he did not.”
Smith nodded and said, “Would you tell us what you did then, sir?”
“I phoned Major Kaufman immediately and asked him on what basis Winston had been admitted—”
“Excuse me, Colonel Burton,” Smith interrupted, “but in order that our record may show it, will you identify Major Kaufman more specifically. Name in full, rank, and position.”
“Major Max Kaufman, U.S. Army Medical Corps, General Hospital, officer chief of NP Ward.”
“What do the initials N.P. stand for, Colonel Burton?”
“Neuro-Psychopathic.”
“Thank you. Now I believe you said that you phoned Major Kaufman and asked him why he admitted Lieutenant Winston.”
“I did. He said that Winston was sick, and that was why he had admitted him. I asked him how he was sick. He replied that Lieutenant Winston was in a profound confusional and depressed state.” Colonel Burton smiled. “I think I have his words.”
During this, Mayburt had passed a note to Thompson, who nodded. Mayburt said, “The court will interrupt you at this point, Major Smith.”
“May it please the court,” Smith acquiesced.
Adams noticed that Moscow had scribbled the word hearsay several times on his pad, but he made no move to pass it.
Mayburt turned to Adams and said, “Would you stand, Captain Adams.”
Adams rose, and Mayburt continued, “Are you aware, Captain, that the evidence just taken is hearsay evidence, and therefore inadmissible?”
“May it please the court, I was aware that this is hearsay evidence.”
“Will you tell the court why you did not offer an objection?”
“I rested upon an exception.”
Only Winston was not listening with intentness. Moscow stared at Adams curiously, frowning in spite of himself. Coombs was scribbling furiously. General Kempton’s face wore a placid expression that Barney Adams was beginning to know and understand; his eyes were narrow, lazy slits.
Colonel Thompson’s round, pink-cheeked face tightened, and directing one pudgy finger at Adams, he said: “The court desires you to understand, Captain Adams, that this case is not to be taken lightly. Not only is it a capital case, but under the present conditions of total war, its importance transcends its circumstances. The court will spare no effort to present a record that is free from error—even the error of insolence.”
“May the court please,” Adams replied earnestly, “I meant no insolence. If any implication of insolence could be read into my words or attitude, I apologize.”
Mayburt had passed another note to Thompson. Then they put their heads together. The pink of Thompson’s cheeks grew deeper. Major Hennessy passed a note down the table—the first non-presiding member of the court-martial to take any action. Thompson and Mayburt read it together. Thompson then nodded, a quick little nod. His lips were tight.
Mayburt said, “Sergeant Debbs, it is the desire of the president that both his statement and Captain Adams’ apology should be stricken from the record.” Then, to Adams, as if nothing at all had transpired, “Why do you rest upon an exception, Captain Adams?”
“May it please the court, there is precedent for defense counsel’s willingness to accept hearsay evidence so taken. In the interest of the facts, sir, such exception has been established.”
“I have no knowledge of such exception ever being offered by the counsel not conducting the examination. It would be understandable for Major Smith to cite this exception. But why do you cite it, Captain?”
“Because, sir, I beli
eve it to be in the public interest.”
“Have you any precedent in military trial, Captain Adams?”
“In Corporal Fredericks versus the United States Army, France, 1918, and in Captain Lewis versus the United States Army, Arizona, 1906. There are other cases which I cannot immediately call to mind. If the court so desires, I may be able to find them and cite them.”
“It will not be necessary,” Colonel Mayburt replied, a trace of a smile on his face. “The court will permit hearsay evidence to be taken, but limited to the conversation with Major Kaufman. At the same time, Captain Adams, the court will permit no cross-examination on the hearsay evidence, for that would constitute an entrapment which we cannot permit.”
“May it please the court, I have no intention of entrapment of any kind. I only desire that full and truthful evidence be taken.”
“We all desire that, Captain Adams.” And to Smith, “Proceed with your witness, Major Smith.”
“May it please the court,” Smith said, “I did not deliberately attempt to extract hearsay evidence. I will be more aware of it from here on.”
“The court understands this, Major.”
“May I thank the court.” Smith returned to his witness, and asked Burton, “Did you conduct a personal examination of the defendant, Lieutenant Winston, Colonel?”
“I did.”
“And when was that?”
“Firstly, the day after he was brought into the hospital. Then, again, two days later.”
“In other words, you examined him twice.”
“I did.”
“And what were the results of your examination?”
“On the first occasion his pulse was rather rapid. He was suffering from a general fatigue brought on by lack of food and sleep. On the second occasion his pulse was normal and the fatigue had decreased.”
“Would you say he was in good health on the occasion of the second examination?”
“Not good health in the abstract. But I suspect his health was as good as it has been for the past year. Lieutenant Winston went through a siege of ulcers some five years ago. He also suffers from a nervous stomach. I would say that for him, on the occasion of my second examination, his health was quite normal.”
