Army Blue

by Lucian K. Truscott

  “Regarding the so-called evidence you tried to present, Specialist, you say the bottle contains heroin. How do you know this, Specialist Fish?”

  “It's heroin, sir. Them guys wasn't loading bales a’ sugar in that plane in Laos, and they sure wasn't bales a’ Johnson's Baby Powder, sir.”

  “Have the contents of the bottle been tested by a chemist?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then you expect us to take your word that, one, you filled the bottle with powder in the middle of the night in a clearing in Laos, and, two, that the powder you put in the bottle is, in fact, heroin. You expect us to believe this with absolutely no concrete evidence that what you say is true?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “This is fantastic, Specialist Fish. You waltz in here with a whiskey bottle and you tell us that it contains not whiskey, but heroin, and you tell us further that you filled it with this heroin in the middle of the night in some field in Laos, and you just sit there and figure that we're going to take your word that this is true. Fantastic, Specialist. Incredible . . .”

  “Objection, Your Honor,” said Captain Morriss. “If counsel has a question of the witness, he should ask it. You've already ruled the bottle of heroin inadmissible. We've had enough sarcastic speeches for one day.”

  “I have no further questions of this witness, Your Honor.”

  “Redirect, Captain Morriss?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Call your next witness.”

  “The defense calls Major General Lawrence Cardozo.”

  “Call General Cardozo,” said the judge.

  Major General Cardozo entered and was sworn in as a witness by Captain Dupuy.

  “I have just one question for you, sir. Did you give the order to mount Operation Iron Fist One, the sweep of enemy territory to the west of Dak Sut, Vietnam?”

  “No, sir, I did not.”

  “Your witness,” said Morriss.

  Dupuy waved his hand without looking up from his papers.

  “No questions.”

  “You are excused, General Cardozo. Thank you.”

  “Sir, the defense calls Lieutenant General Wesley Kramm.”

  “Call General Kramm,” said the judge.

  After a wait of five minutes, the back door opened and Lieutenant General Wesley Kramm entered. He was tall and distinguished looking, and he wore the starched fatigues of the Vietnam war high command, signaling that his testimony had necessitated a return from “the front.”

  Dupuy swore him in. Morriss established that Kramm was II Corps commander. He leaned on the lectern and asked his question laconically.

  “Did you give the order to mount Operation Iron Fist One, sir?”

  “No, I did not.”

  “Thank you, sir. That is all I have for you. Your witness,” said Morriss to Dupuy.

  “I have no questions for General Kramm, and I must add that I fail to see where this line of questioning of these witnesses is going,” said Dupuy.

  “Do you want to make an objection, counselor?” the judge asked.

  “No, sir. I merely wanted to register my bewilderment that this court has allowed this obvious disruption of the command structure in the United States Army in Vietnam.”

  “Your bewilderment is noted, counselor. Absent any objection, call your next witness, Captain Morriss.”

  “The defense calls General Paul Fleming, sir.”

  The back door opened before the judge could order the witness called, and General Paul Fleming, a man who closely resembled a pit bull terrier, strode into the room. He, too, was starched and pressed in the Vietnam high command manner, and he stood stiffly in front of the witness chair as he was sworn in by Captain Dupuy.

  “General, you are commander of MACV, is that correct?” Morriss asked.

  “That is correct,” said General Fleming in a voice that boomed through the Quonset hut like rolling thunder.

  “I will ask you one question, sir . . .”

  “Shoot,” said General Fleming, smiling widely.

  “Did you give the order to mount Operation Iron Fist One?”

  “No, I did not. Anything else you want to know?” he asked.

  “Thank you, General,” Morriss said. “Your answer has been sufficient for my purposes. Your witness.” He sat down.

  “I have no questions for General Fleming, but want the record to show that General Fleming has been kept waiting in his staff car outside this room for two hours so that he could answer the momentous questions of the defense in this case.”

  “I'm sure the record will reflect your remarks, counselor,” said the judge.

  “Your Honor, I would like the record to reflect the prosecution's characterization of my question of General Fleming as, quote, momentous, unquote.”

  “The entire comment of Captain Dupuy's has been accurately noted, I am certain,” the judge said. “Do you have further witnesses?”

  “Yes, sir, but due to the lateness of the hour, the defense would like to wait until tomorrow's session to call its final witnesses.”

  “Defense request granted. Court will recess until ten hundred hours tomorrow.” The judge and the court stood, and all filed out the back door.

  The Lieutenant followed Captain Morriss from the court, and they were followed closely by the Colonel, the General, and the Sergeant Major.

  They got in the staff cars and drove into Saigon. Alone together in the backseat of the first car, the Lieutenant badgered Captain Morriss.

  “What do you mean, one more witness? You mean me, don't you?”

  “No, Matt. I don't mean you.”

  “I want to take the stand, damn it. My life is at stake. My integrity has been assaulted. The name of the Blue family has been dragged through the dirt in that courtroom, and I want to defend myself and my family name.”

  “I will defend you, Lieutenant Blue. That is what a defense attorney is for. That is why I am here. That is why the Army pays me the grand sum of $640 a month. To defend you. It is not necessary for you to defend yourself. And so long as I am your attorney, you will not take the stand in your own defense. That way has been the path to one courtroom disaster after another.”

  “But I won't screw up on the stand! I want to stick it to them! I want them to regret the day they decided to ruin me and my reputation!”

  “I will stick it to them with tomorrow, Matt. You will sit at the defense table and watch. Back in the Triple Deuce you were in command of your platoon. But within the lovely confines of Quonset hut 648, I am the commander. You will do what I say and then you will thank me later over a beer at the Continental, and you can shoot your damn mouth off all you want.”

  “Yes, sir,” said a chastened Lieutenant Blue, recognizing the voice of reason at last.

  21

  * * *

  * * *

  The chopper came in low, brushing the roof of the jungle with its rotors. The sun was setting, and there was just enough light to make out the breaks in the jungle below.

  “That's where it's at!” Repatch yelled over the roar of the Huey. “Down there! See it?”

  Danny Jannick leaned out the door of the chopper and squinted against the wind.

  “Yeah. That long grassy spot, right?”

  “You got it!”

  Repatch tapped the pilot's shoulder and pointed to the ground. He nodded, and the Huey started down.

  Jannick poked his head back in the chopper and signaled the cameraman. He tightened his seat belt, leaned out over the edge of the chopper's door, pointed his camera toward the ground, and started filming.

  “Keep it running until we set down, Tommy!” yelled Cathy Joice to her cameraman.

  “Right!” he yelled back.

  The chopper headed for the grassy strip and settled down with a soft whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh of its rotors. Repatch and Jannick jumped out, followed by the cameraman and Cathy Joice. Repatch walked around to the pilot's side of the chopper.

  “Wait here. If there's anyt
hing out there, it shouldn't take long to find it, man. Thirty minutes. That's all.”

  “It better be thirty minutes,” said the pilot, a warrant officer who didn't look a day over nineteen. “It's getting dark. We've got to get up and out of here if we're going to find our way back to Pleiku.”

  “Sure. Gotchew.”

  Cathy Joice was standing in front of her cameraman with a mike in her hand.

  “We are approximately ten kilometers inside the Laotian border, on the grass strip mentioned in testimony at the court-martial of Lieutenant Blue.” She paused, then said, “Cut. Give me a minute, Tommy. I'm out of breath.”

  “Take your time,” said the cameraman.

  She held the mike and started again.

  “This is the makeshift Laotian airstrip that has figured prominently in the defense strategy of Lieutenant Matthew Nelson Blue the fourth, who is defending himself against Army charges of desertion in the face of the enemy. At this moment we are more than ten kilometers inside the border of Laos. We have come here with Specialist Fish to attempt to locate physical evidence of the heroin shipment that the defense insists was lifted off this very strip on an unmarked DC-3 aircraft.”

  Repatch stepped in front of the camera and grabbed her by the arm.

  “C'mon. We ain't got much time.”

  “Roll it, Tommy,” she said as she followed Repatch on the run.

  Repatch headed for the treeline at the end of the grassy strip. When he reached the trees, he slowed down. Both he and Jannick started combing the woods, moving aside bushes and low-hanging branches.

  Cathy and her cameraman followed close behind.

  “See anything?” Repatch called.

  “Nothing so far,” said Jannick.

  “Over here,” Repatch called. “That plane banked to the right when it got up in the air a bit.”

  He led them farther into the woods. Cathy Joice and her cameraman were falling behind, and it was getting darker and darker as the sun dropped lower on the horizon.

  “Jesus!”

  “What's that?” Cathy called.

  “I tripped,” Jannick called back.

  “Where are you?” Repatch shouted.

  “Over here,” Jannick replied.

  Repatch struggled through the undergrowth until he reached Jannick, who was sitting down with a wide smile on his face.

  “Bingo,” said Danny Jannick, grinning widely.

  “Jannick. You done it.”

  “I tripped on the fucker,” said Jannick, standing up. He had been sitting on a bale wrapped in burlap.

  “Over here!” Jannick called.

  Cathy and her cameraman appeared out of the trees, the camera still running.

  “Get a close shot, then back up and get me full length,” said Cathy.

  The cameraman went in tight, then backed away.

  Cathy took the mike and approached Jannick.

  “Tell us what happened,” she said, sticking the mike in his face.

  “I tripped on it,” said Jannick, pointing to the burlap-wrapped bale.

  “Is this one of the bales you saw them loading on the DC-3 that night, Specialist Fish?”

  “Yes, ma'am. It's one of ‘em, all right. That right there is fifty pounds a’ smack.” Repatch took his knife and cut into the bale. He stuck his finger in the bale and pulled it out. His finger was covered with white dust.

  Cathy's cameraman zoomed tight on Repatch's finger, and she said, “Let's get back in that chopper and get out of here.”

  “I'm right behind you,” said Danny Jannick.

  Repatch shouldered the bale and they crashed through the woods and exited the treeline. The chopper's blades started turning, shoop-shoop-shoop-shoop, and they climbed on board. The chopper picked up and tilted and they were gone over the treetops, headed east into the night.

  The court-martial was gaveled to order the next morning at 10 A.M.

  “Call your next witness, Captain Morriss,” said Colonel Kelly with a nod at the defense table.

  “Sir, the defense recalls Specialist Fish.”

  “Call Specialist Fish.”

  Repatch appeared in the back door and took the stand.

  “You are reminded you are still under oath,” Dupuy said.

  “Yes, sir,” Repatch said dutifully.

  “Specialist, yesterday you had evidence you tried to introduce to this court, which was disallowed. Do you recall this evidence?”

  “Yes, sir. I had me a pint bottle fulla smack.”

  “Heroin.”

  “Yes, sir. Heroin. Same difference.”

  “And you said you had scooped up the heroin from the site of the grass airstrip where you and Lieutenant Blue witnessed a DC-3 being loaded with bales of heroin. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Your Honor . . .” Dupuy was on his feet. “I object, Your Honor. This is old news. We went over this yesterday, and Your Honor disallowed the evidence. I see no reason we should be subjected to this nonsense any further.”

  “Your Honor, the defense has new evidence to present, if Captain Dupuy will allow us the courtesy of the time in which to present it.”

  “Go ahead, Captain,” said the judge.

  “Do you have new evidence today?” Morriss asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Repatch said. “I got to get it.”

  He stood up and walked out the back door and returned a moment later with the bale of heroin. An audible stir in the court greeted the sight of Repatch carrying a burlap-wrapped bale the size of a milk crate. Repatch put the bale down in front of his chair and took his seat.

  “Your Honor, this is another case of grandstanding,” said Dupuy, jumping to his feet. “We don't know where this so-called bale came from. This is a defense trick, Your Honor. I object.”

  The judge turned to Captain Morriss.

  “Captain?” he asked.

  “Your Honor, we're not finished. If the court please . . .”

  “Go on.”

  “Specialist Fish, where did you get this . . . this bale?”

  “I got it up in Laos in the boonies, sir.”

  “When?”

  “Yesterday afternoon.”

  “How did this come about?”

  “I flew up there and went out in the boonies where that grass strip was, and we found it at the end of the strip in the woods. It fell outta the plane when it was takin’ off, sir.”

  “Do we have to take your word for this, Specialist?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Why not?”

  “ ‘Cause I got a movie of the whole thing!”

  “Your Honor! Your Honor! Objection!” Dupuy was on his feet, shouting.

  “Your Honor,” said Captain Morriss. “The defense has an explanation.”

  “I hope so,” the judge said. “Proceed.”

  “Your Honor, the witness was accompanied on his helicopter trip into Laos yesterday by a television news crew and a print reporter. Film of the entire trip exists and is available today, along with testimony of all three individuals who accompanied Specialist Fish. They are prepared to testify, and we are prepared to show film of the discovery of this evidence.”

  The judge removed his glasses and stared balefully at Captain Morriss.

  “This was a violation of the order I read on the first day of this court-martial, was it not?”

  “Yes, Your Honor, it was. But if it please the court . . .”

  “Nothing would please the court more right now than finding you in contempt, which is what I'm going to do . . .”

  “Your Honor, under the circumstances, we had no other choice. Filming the acquisition of this evidence was the only way the defense could confirm its validity. Yesterday, the court refused to allow the introduction of the bottle of heroin. This evidence is absolutely essential to the defense if we're to get a fair trial, Your Honor. It goes to the heart of our case. Indeed, without the film showing the acquisition of this evidence, Your Honor, we don't have a case.”


  “You may not have a career when this is over, Captain,” said the judge.

  “I realize that fact, Your Honor.”

  “None of this material has been reported in the press or gone out over the air?”

  “No, sir. To that extent, we have adhered to your order.”

  “Will you continue your objection, counselor?” the judge asked Dupuy.

  “My objection stands, Your Honor. This is highly irregular and prejudicial, and smacks of the kind of grandstanding the defense counsel is known for.”

  “Then we will see the film and hear from the witnesses,” said the judge, “and I will reserve my ruling on both the objection and the contempt citation until we have taken this additional testimony. Proceed, Captain.”

  Morriss gave a signal, and two GIs emerged from the back door and set up a movie screen and a 16mm film projector. Morriss gave another signal and the lights in the Quonset hut were turned off, and one of the GIs switched on the projector. It flickered a couple of times and the image of Cathy Joice appeared on the screen.

  “We are in Pleiku, Vietnam,” she said, pointing to a sign behind her that read PLEIKU in big letters. “We've stopped at the airstrip here to refuel. We're on our way to Laos with Specialist Fish to look for evidence that a heroin shipment, which he says he and Lieutenant Matthew Blue witnessed, actually took place.”

  Repatch appeared on the screen. “We got to go,” he said.

  The camera pulled back, showing the helicopter, which could be heard starting up, its engine beginning the high-pitched whine preceding the rotors turning.

  The next image was of Cathy Joice in the chopper aloft. She was screaming into her mike over the roar of the chopper.

  “We just crossed over into Laos! We're dropping down to treetop level! Nobody knows what's out there! We don't know if we'll encounter enemy fire!”

  The camera panned out the door to show jungle rushing by below.

  Then the screen showed the footage from the grass airstrip in the jungle, including the discovery of the bale of heroin. The screen then showed Cathy Joice standing on the tarmac at Pleiku again. It was night, and she was illuminated by a light over a hangar door.