Dateline: Viet Nam: A Military Thriller Double

by Robert Vaughan

  “How do you know?”

  “I’ve seen her picture, hundreds of times.”

  “I’m sorry, madam,” the first guard apologized. “I didn’t recognize you.”

  “That’s all right. Now, please, may I be taken to see General Linh?”

  “Yes, of course. Come inside with me, madam. I’ll get an officer to help you.”

  The guard took Le into the building and told her to wait in one of the anterooms. As luck would have it, he had gone no more than twenty steps down the hall when he saw Colonel Phat.

  “Colonel Phat, I have Madam Mot in the anteroom.”

  “What? What’s she doing here?”

  “I don’t know, sir. She just showed up. I don’t know what to do with her. I told her I would find an officer for her.”

  “All right, thank you, I’ll take care of it,” Phat said. He went into the anteroom.

  “Oh, Colonel Phat, I’m glad you’re here. Have you found out anything? Could you please tell me what’s going on?”

  “Come with me,” Colonel Phat said.

  Le followed him out into the hall, then down a narrow flight of stairs into the basement. When they reached the basement she looked around in confusion.

  “Why did we come down here?”

  “So we could talk privately.”

  “Talk privately? About what?”

  “I’m sorry, Madam Mot but your husband was plotting a coup.”

  “A coup?”

  “Yes. The big operation was just to reposition his forces so that only those men loyal to us would be in position when the time came.”

  “Loyal to us? You mean you were involved, too?”

  “Among others. That’s why Mr. Carmack must be charged with murder.”

  “I don’t understand. What has one got to do with the other?”

  “Mr. Carmack is what you might call a sacrificial lamb. By charging him with murder, all the attention will be drawn to him…and to the rather juicy details of your sex life. I, and those with me, feel that the smoke screen thrown up by such a trial will keep anyone from discovering what Colonel Mot was really up to.”

  “And you expect me to keep quiet about that?”

  “Perhaps for the sake of your husband’s memory?” Phat suggested.

  “Colonel Phat, I have no intention of letting an innocent man be tried for murder to protect my husband’s memory, or you, or any of the gang of traitors you work with,” Le said angrily.

  “Yes,” Phat said with a small, oily voice. “I was rather afraid of that.” He sighed, then unbuttoned the flap over his pistol.

  Chapter Fifteen

  J. W. “Greyhound” Reynolds was one of the best-known criminal lawyers in America. He had read Ernie’s articles about the trial, then called Ernie long distance from Houston to see if Mike Carmack would use him.

  “I don’t think he can afford you,” Ernie told him.

  “Hell, mister, I know damned well he can’t afford me,” Greyhound answered in his booming voice. “Not if he pledged half of everything he earned for the rest of his life and threw in his firstborn son.”

  “Then why do you want to defend him?”

  “Let’s just say that every now ’n again I take a case on its merits, just to keep the wheels of justice oiled up a bit.” Greyhound chuckled. “Besides, this case has already generated quite a following. If I win, it’s going to be worth all I put in it. You can’t buy the publicity I’m going to get when this case is tried.”

  The Universal Code of Military Justice supplied military lawyers for all accused, but it did make allowances for civilian lawyers, should the defendant desire one. Getting the army’s permission for Greyhound Reynolds to take the case was easy. It was a little more difficult to convince Mike.

  “Look, Ernie, you were in the helicopter with me. You, of all people, know I didn’t do that on purpose. You know I’m innocent. Nothing’s going to happen to me. I don’t need a high-powered lawyer like Greyhound Reynolds.”

  “You ever read anything about a man called Dreyfus?” Ernie asked.

  “No. Who was he?”

  “He was a Jewish officer in the French Army around the turn of the century. He was accused of treason but he was innocent and he counted on that innocence to save him. What he didn’t know was that the French Army was conspiring to find him guilty and the fact that he was innocent didn’t mean a damned thing.”

  “Are you saying the army is conspiring to find me guilty?”

  “Maybe not, but someone is. And Madam Mot’s suicide certainly hasn’t helped your case any.”

  “I wonder why she did that?” Mike said. “I don’t understand it. Unless it wasn’t suicide. Ernie, what if she was murdered?”

  “Look,” Ernie said, “let’s not get involved in another case now, okay? Let’s just take care of the one at hand. Now, are you going to let Reynolds defend you or not?”

  “All right,” Mike finally agreed. “Bring him on.”

  The court-martial was held at Tan Son Nhut in a large administration building that had been cleared of desks and file cabinets and converted over for the purpose. Inside the building, the sun streamed in through the plexiglass windows and the bright beams picked up a million dust motes floating in the still air of the Quonset hut-type building. The air conditioners hummed and rattled and the one nearest the defense table was dripping water. Mike watched the drops fall into a little puddle, spreading concentric circles while the court-martial board was sworn in.

  After the swearing-in ceremony, Mike looked at the board, and his eyes fell on Colonel Arthur Sherman, the president of the court. Colonel Sherman had a curly mop of brindled hair, large brown eyes, a ruddy complexion, and a neatly trimmed mustache. Mike shifted his gaze from Sherman to the other officers on the board. There were three warrant officers on the board and all three were aviators. Mike was glad of that. However, none of the commissioned officers was an aviator, and he was disappointed by that.

  There was more ceremony, much of it incomprehensible to Mike, until finally, the trial counsel, Major Patterson, called his first witness. The witness was Colonel Todaro.

  Those in the room watched the door through which the witness would enter. There was an expectant air to the court, like the collective pause of breath at a football game just before the opening kickoff.

  Colonel Todaro came in, saluted the board president, was sworn in, then took his seat on the raised platform in the center of the room.

  “Colonel Todaro, would you tell the court your position, please?”

  “I’m commanding officer of the 86th Attack Helicopter Company, better known as the Gunslingers.”

  “And Mr. Carmack is one of your pilots?”

  “Not just one of my pilots, Major. He is my best pilot.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “He has more flying time than anyone in the company, including myself.”

  “What about combat service time?”

  “He’s top there, too.”

  “I see. Tell me, Colonel Todaro, is someone with that much experience likely to become confused and disoriented in the heat of battle? What I mean is, don’t we have the reasonable right to expect such a man to —”

  “Objection,” Reynolds said. “Counsel is leading the witness.”

  “Sustained,” Colonel Sherman said.

  Major Patterson stroked his chin and looked at Reynolds. Reynolds was busy, sketching, with considerable skill, the members of the court-martial board.

  “Let me reword that question,” Major Patterson said. “Have you ever had any reason to doubt Mr. Carmack’s performance under pressure?”

  “Never.”

  “Do you have any doubt about his performance under pressure now?”

  “None.”

  “On the fifteenth of November, the day in question, do you think Mr. Carmack cracked under pressure?”

  “Objection. Calls for a conclusion,” Reynolds said. He didn’t even look up from his drawing as h
e shaded in one of the ribbons on a board officer’s chest.

  “Sustained.”

  “Tell me, Colonel Todaro,” Major Patterson started, “about the fifteenth of November. What happened on that day?”

  “We could have ended the war that day,” Todaro began, “if Mr. Carmack hadn’t —”

  “Objection,” Reynolds said.

  Before the board president could even react, Major Patterson addressed his witness.

  “If you would, sir, just tell what actually happened, as nearly as you can recall, without any personal opinions.”

  “All right,” Todaro said. He ran his hand through his hair. “Our mission orders were to provide lift helicopters for South Vietnamese Special Forces and gunship cover for the insertion and over the area of operations.”

  “And did you do that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What about Mr. Carmack?”

  “Mr. Carmack was put in command of the Blue team, a fire team composed of four armed helicopters. His mission was to orbit the area in the event additional firepower would be needed.”

  “Was it needed?”

  “No.”

  “If it had been needed, would Mr. Carmack have been in position to supply it?”

  “No,” Todaro said again.

  “Why not?”

  “Because Mr. Carmack received a request to provide support for a convoy from the 765th Group.”

  “Did Mr. Carmack answer that request?”

  “Yes.”

  “With your permission?”

  “No. I checked with MACV and discovered that in the operational orders for the 765th, any convoy which might require air support would get that support from the nearest available air force or navy air.”

  “And were either of these elements in position to respond to the call for help?”

  “Two Phantom jets from the 507th Fighter Wing in Binh Hoa answered the call.”

  “I thought you said Mr. Carmack answered the call.”

  “He did. In fact, he had to move out of the way to let the air force go about its business.”

  “What happened next?”

  “Mr. Carmack returned to the area of operation. Once there, he saw Colonel Mot’s men in a mop-up operation and, for some reason known only to him, attacked Colonel Mot, killing him, two American advisors, and fourteen South Vietnamese soldiers.”

  “Colonel Todaro, was Colonel Mot known personally to Mr. Carmack?”

  “Yes, he was.”

  “Could he recognize him on sight?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “But Mr. Carmack was flying a helicopter that day, was he not?”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Todaro said. “Colonel Mot was flying his personal flag. You could see him from the air quite easily.”

  “Objection,” Reynolds said.

  This time Major Patterson smiled. “Colonel Todaro, how do you know anyone could see him from the air?”

  “I was flying, too,” Todaro said. “Colonel Mot’s flag stood out like a sore thumb.”

  “No further questions, Colonel Todaro.” Reynolds laid his pencil across his drawing and looked over at Colonel Todaro.

  “Colonel Todaro, would you say the mission on November 15 was successful?”

  “To a degree,” Todaro answered.

  “To what degree?’’

  “Our hope was that we would be able to break the back of the V.C. once and for all. Colonel Mot had successfully destroyed the V.C. infrastructure the night before, leaving only the soldiers in the field to take care of. We were well on our way to doing that when Colonel Mot was killed.”

  “I see. And it’s your contention that Colonel Mot’s death caused the operation to fail?”

  “Well, fail its original purpose,” Colonel Todaro said. “Though, as I said, it was a successful operation within limits.”

  “How do you measure this success?”

  “Well, by body count,” Todaro answered. “There were one hundred seventeen of the enemy killed, while we took only eighteen casualties. Seventeen killed and one wounded.”

  “Thank you, Colonel Todaro,” Reynolds said. “I have no further questions, though I would like to reserve the right to recall this witness.”

  “Witness is dismissed,” said Major Patterson, who, in addition to being the trial counsel, was also the court officer.

  Major Patterson’s second witness was Sergeant First Class Jack Creech. Creech was a field advisor, assigned to the team that was attached to Colonel Mot’s special forces. Creech was the only American who survived the strafing incident.

  “Phillips went down first,” Creech said. “Then Carmody. Carmody died in my arms.”

  “Did you make any attempt to notify the helicopters that you were friendly?” Major Patterson asked.

  “Hell, yes,” Creech said. “I started squawking their parrot from the very first pass.”

  “I beg your pardon? Squawking their parrot?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s the IFF. We have a special code and we can punch that into the IFF and they pick up a squawking noise on their transponder. That’s what we call squawking the parrot.”

  “And you did this?”

  “About a hundred times before they finally called off their attacks. But, by that time, it was too late for Phillips and Carmody.”

  “What about Colonel Mot? What did he do?”

  “When he saw that we couldn’t get through on the radio, he moved right out into the open and began waving his flag at them.”

  “Did the pilots see him?”

  “Yes, sir, they seen him,” Creech said. He looked over at Carmack. “The leader of the group seemed like he made a special point of zeroing in on the colonel, like as if he wanted to kill him.”

  “Objection,” Reynolds said easily.

  “Sustained,” Colonel Sherman agreed. “Sergeant Creech, you will answer only such questions as you can answer from personal knowledge. Your opinions are not admissible and you may find yourself subject to conduct-unbecoming charges, should you persist.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,’’ Creech answered.

  “Sergeant, who was the first person killed in the strafing?” Major Patterson asked.

  “I’m not sure. Colonel Mot, he went pretty early.”

  “Thank you,” Major Patterson said. “Your witness.”

  “Sergeant Creech, what did you think of Colonel Mot?”

  “If there was more like him, we’d have this war over with in a hurry,” Creech said.

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, say he was in pursuit and the V.C. hauled ass into another sector. The Black Knight didn’t bother getting permission from the province chief or ARVN headquarters or anything else. He just went about his job.”

  “He never checked with the village mayors, or police, or anything?”

  “No, sir.”

  “And you thought that was good?”

  “We’re supposed to be fightin’ a war over here, sir. Colonel Mot told me once that if we made war unpopular enough, there wouldn’t be any war.”

  “I see. Is that the justification he used for attacking villagers? He did attack innocent villagers, didn’t he?”

  “What the hell do you know about it?” Creech said. “You’re a civilian, you don’t know shit from Shinola.”

  “Sergeant Creech?” Colonel Sherman barked angrily. To the surprise of the court, Reynolds held up his hand.

  “If it would please the court,” he said, “I would like to allow Sergeant Creech the freedom to express what’s on his mind.”

  “Very well,” Colonel Sherman said. “Sergeant Creech, you may continue. You are cautioned about the propriety of this court and the respect due its officers.”

  “Yes, sir,” Creech said.

  “Now, Sergeant Creech,” Reynolds said. “Would you please explain why you think I don’t know shit from Shinola?”

  There was nervous laughter from the spectators. “It ain’t just you, sir. It
’s anyone who hasn’t been in the bush. The straphangers and the feather merchants, they think war is soldier against soldier. But I’ve seen twelve-year-old girls blow a guy away. I’ve seen pregnant women throw hand grenades and I’ve seen old men and old women trigger punji stakes. When you see that, sir, then you know there ain’t no such thing as villagers. There’s just dinks and it breaks down to the dinks who are trying to kill you and the dinks who aren’t.”

  “How do you know the difference?” Reynolds asked.

  “You don’t always.”

  “You must have some guidelines.”

  “Well, sir, when we was with Mot it was simple. If the dink was one of his soldiers, he was one of us…if he wasn’t one of Mot’s soldiers, he was one of them.”

  “‘Them’ being the bad guys?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What do you do about the bad guys?”

  “You kill them. That’s what my job was.”

  “I see. In the village that Mr. Carmack shot up...was it us against them?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “So the villagers were the bad guys and Mot’s soldiers were the good guys, is that it?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Sergeant Creech, were you with Colonel Mot during his raids the night before?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you believe he broke the infrastructure of the V.C.?”

  “I... I can’t answer that. I’m only supposed to answer questions I have knowledge about.”

  “You had no knowledge about the V.C. infrastructure?”

  “Only what Colonel Mot said.”

  “I see. And did you believe him?”

  Creech looked over at the court. “Do I have to answer that question?”

  “It’s a simple enough question,” Reynolds said. “All I want to know is if you, personally, believed Colonel Mot.”

  “Witness is directed to answer. ”

  Creech sighed. “No, sir,” he finally said. “I didn’t believe him.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “I speak the language. I heard him talking with some of the officers on his staff. One of them said the Americans wouldn’t like him attacking temples like he done and he said he’d tell them about this infrastructure stuff and everything would be all right.”