Swords and Saddles

by Jack Campbell

  Major Hue indicated the schematic. “Was victory certain, colonel?”

  “Victory is never certain, major.”

  “Our defending forces suffered casualties.”

  “Correct. Four masters-at-arms dead, several others wounded, and nine Marines wounded.”

  “Could we have lessened the number of casualties if we’d waited a little longer before counterattacking?” Major Hue asked.

  “Probably. But we didn’t have the luxury of time.”

  Hue nodded, his face grim. “Colonel, if you give an order, do you expect it to be obeyed?”

  “Of course I do,” Lamont replied.

  “Do you regard an order given in combat to be any different?”

  “Different?” Lamont studied Major Hue. “No. An order is an order. If anything, combat increases the need to know that your orders will be obeyed promptly and correctly.”

  Major nodded again. “No further questions.”

  Commander Carr approached the Marine colonel respectfully. “Colonel Lamont, you reported that between zero one thirty three and zero one fifty nine the attackers were blowing open tanks, bulkheads and partitions in the areas they controlled.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “In other words, the attackers began their demolition activity before the station emergency response teams had even been called out, and continued it until a short time before the Marine counterattack went in.”

  “That’s also correct, commander.”

  Carr paused, looking at the schematic. “Did the attackers try to break through the defensive perimeter established by the emergency response teams?”

  The Marine shook his head. “No. As best we can tell they stopped trying to take new areas by zero two hundred at the latest.”

  “By zero two hundred at the latest the attackers had gained control of as much of the station as they desired?” Carr asked.

  “Objection!” Major Hue pointed at Carr. “Defense Counsel is asking the witness to speculate on matters about which he can have no certain knowledge.”

  “Objection sustained,” Halstead replied immediately. “Counsel for the defense is to ensure her questions are framed appropriately.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.” Carr, seeming unabashed, focused on Lamont again. “Colonel, did the attackers give any indication after zero two hundred that they desired to gain control of more of the station?”

  This time Lamont shook his head decisively. “No, commander.”

  “Was there any indication that the attackers planned to survive the action?”

  Lamont snorted. “No. As the report indicates, those who could suicided rather than be captured.”

  “Then they didn’t cease offensive action out of fear of dying in the attempt to seize more of the station? Before zero two hundred they had already done what they needed to do?”

  “Objection!” Major Hue gestured toward Carr. “Defense Counsel is once again asking the witness to speculate, this time as to the mindset of dead men and women.”

  “Your Honor,” Carr stated, “I believe the question is firmly grounded in established facts, that the attackers had ceased offensive action and that they did not act in fear of dying during the attack. Surely a Marine colonel is capable of drawing expert conclusions from those facts.”

  “No one can know why the attackers chose to do or not to do any action or actions,” Hue insisted. “None of them can testify to their motives.”

  “Their established actions testify for them,” Carr argued.

  Halstead rapped his bench lightly with his gavel. “Both counsels make good points. But Defense Counsel has already established the point she wished to make. Objection sustained. Let’s move on, Defense Counsel.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.” Carr faced Lamont again. “Colonel, you reviewed all of the records of the fighting on this station on 6 July? What shape were those records in?”

  “While the Marine records were fully intact, the records of the station and its personnel often suffered from gaps and interruptions caused by the damage to the station’s sensors and various forms of interference.”

  Carr nodded. “Have you personally been in combat, Colonel Lamont?”

  Lamont smiled very briefly, indicating his ribbons. “A few times, commander.”

  Walking over to the schematic, Carr indicated the symbols representing station defenders. “Colonel, to what extent did you evaluate the actions of individual defenders? How well or appropriately each responded to whatever they encountered?”

  Major Hue was on his feet. “Objection. Your Honor, Defense Counsel is introducing material into cross-examination which was not brought out during the witness’s testimony.”

  Commander Carr spread her hands. “Your Honor, Trial Counsel is the one who introduced the study into this proceeding.”

  “Your Honor,” Hue insisted, “Defense Counsel’s question is not germane to the testimony elicited from the witness.”

  Halstead held up one hand, his expression sour. “Trial Counsel, you introduced the colonel’s study into evidence as an exhibit in this trial while questioning the witness. By doing so, you opened up all material in that study to cross-examination. Objection overruled. Continue, Defense Counsel.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor.” Carr indicated Colonel Lamont. “Sir? Should I repeat the question?”

  “I recall the question.” Lamont studied the schematic for a moment. “Of course we evaluated the actions of individuals, not with an eye to punishment or reward because that wasn’t our job, but in order to derive whatever lessons we could from the engagement.”

  Carr gave him a somber look. “How many times when evaluating those actions did you, as a combat veteran, conclude that an individual’s actions were clearly wrong?”

  Major Hue’s face reddened, but he glanced at Halstead, saw the judge’s expression, and sat silent.

  Lamont spent several moments thinking, then shook his head. “There were any number of cases where we suggested alternatives, things which could have been done differently.”

  “Differently? Not wrong?”

  “That’s right.” The colonel shifted slightly in his seat, a shadow of memories crossing his face. “Commander, it’s one thing to review records after an engagement. It’s another thing to be in the middle of that engagement. I can have a perfect picture of whatever had happened but that’s not the same as being there when the bullets were flying, the situation was unclear and the pressure was on. Some things can be identified as clearly wrong. Running from the enemy, failing to exercise command, that sort of thing. But most of what we see reflects the uncertainties of the situation as it unfolded. We weren’t there, so playing God isn’t really appropriate or useful except inasmuch as it identifies problem areas to address in planning, equipment and training.”

  Carr waited a moment before speaking again. “You weren’t there.”

  “Precisely, commander.”

  “Did you identify any points where the actions or inactions of a single individual had or could have had a critical effect on the outcome of the events of 6 July?”

  Hue was rising to his feet. “Objection. Defense Counsel is leading the witness.”

  Judge Halstead shook his head. “This clearly falls under the conclusions of the study as well, Trial Counsel. Overruled. The witness may answer the question.”

  Colonel Lamont gave Hue a slightly bemused look, then focused back on Carr. “In a few cases, yes.” He pointed to Jen. “Her actions, for example. If any one person’s actions saved the station, it was Lieutenant Shen’s.” Major Hue had one hand on his forehead, his face lowered, as Jen once again was singled out. “But even in Lieutenant Shen’s statement, she properly acknowledged that without the quick actions and support of the watch standers in engineering and the Marines she could not have accomplished what she did.”

  Carr seemed intrigued by the answer. “Are you saying, Colonel, that even the actions of those whose outstanding performance has been acknowledged wo
uld not have made a difference without the support of others?”

  “Of course.” Lamont spoke firmly, as if lecturing now. “Popular fiction tends to celebrate the solitary hero, the lone wolf, but the real and consistent key to success in action is invariably the team. A group functioning in a coordinated and supporting manner. That’s what our training emphasizes, and I know the Navy recognizes the same truth.”

  “That’s in terms of success,” Carr noted. “Are you saying the same is true in terms of failure? That you did not identify any individual whose failures stood out as significant?”

  “We did not,” Colonel Lamont replied. “That doesn’t mean it can’t happen. A sentry asleep or inattentive could have disastrous results, for example, but our post-engagement analysis did not identify any such case here.”

  “No such case?” Commander Carr nodded slowly, drawing out the moment. “Thank you, Colonel. No further questions.”

  “Does Trial Counsel wish to redirect?” Halstead asked.

  “Yes, Your Honor.” Major Hue indicated the schematic. “Colonel Lamont, when Marines are in combat they are linked to their commanders by a sophisticated command and control system which allows the commanders to see what the individual Marines are seeing and experience what those Marines are experiencing, isn’t that correct?”

  “No.” Lamont shook his head while Hue tried not to frown. “See what they see, yes. Experience what they’re experiencing? No. It’s the difference between actually being in combat and playing a simulator or video game. The latter might get your adrenaline up, but it’s not the same as the former.”

  “But,” Major Hue tried to rally, “don’t you routinely give orders to those Marines in combat based upon that information? Tell them exactly what to do?”

  Lamont frowned, pondering the question. “Yes and no, major. ‘Head that way,’ ‘engage these forces,’ yes, that kind of thing. But exactly? ‘Stand here’? ‘Move two steps right’? Only under very exceptional circumstances. That’s the kind of micromanagement that gets Marines killed.”

  “But you would order a Marine to engage a particular target and expect that order to be carried out, wouldn’t you, sir?”

  “Yes. As a rule.”

  As Major Hue took his seat again, LCDR Nasser addressed the colonel. “Sir, you used the term micromanagement. All of us here, I think, recognize that when we experience it. But you also indicated a command to engage a specific target would not be micromanagement in your view?”

  “That really depends,” Lamont replied. “In general no, as I said, but there’s so many possible circumstances.”

  “Are there conditions under which you would regard an order to shoot at a specific individual as micromanagement?”

  “It depends. I’m not there on-scene. I do not routinely pick targets for Marines under my command in combat situations. But if I tell them to engage one, they’d better have a very good reason for not doing so.”

  Master Chief Kobo frowned. “Sir, how much initiative do you expect your personnel to use in such a situation?”

  “As much as they need to,” Lamont replied dryly. “I expect them to follow orders but also to use their heads. If I wanted robots who did exactly what they were told and only that then we’d have robots on the frontlines. But that’s never worked too well in practice.”

  Senior Chief Polaski had been looking troubled, and now spoke. “Colonel, you stated that for the most part the actions of individuals didn’t make much difference. Is that right? Are you saying the individual actions of the masters-at-arms didn’t really matter?”

  Lamont shook his head. “No. That’s not what I intended to say. Individual actions do matter. The actions of the Navy masters-at-arms were courageous and resolute, and certainly played a very important role in the engagement. But while those Navy personnel displayed individual courage and resolution, it was their work as a team which made the difference. Any single individual trying to stop the attackers, or any group acting as individuals instead of a team, would have failed. A very important part of the accomplishments of the masters-at-arms was that they fought as a team to achieve their objective. Their actions impressed the Marines who fought in the engagement, and that’s not easy to do.”

  Polaski smiled. “Thank you, colonel. I’m very glad to hear that.”

  The next witness was Master Chief Petty Officer Peter Wilmont. Tall and trim, Wilmont took his seat and avoided looking toward Sharpe.

  “Master Chief,” Hue began, “could you summarize the events on 6 July which led you to initiate the charges against Chief Sharpe?”

  “Certainly, major. The emergency response teams had been called out. The situation remained fluid, but we could identify the areas occupied by the enemy by seeing where sensors had been destroyed. We were ordered to establish a defensive perimeter around that area. I assisted in ordering sections of personnel into position, monitoring their actions and progress and issuing further orders as appropriate.”

  Wilmont paused for a moment, chewing his lip. “At about zero one fifty I was monitoring the picture from Chief Sharpe’s suit when I clearly saw one of the attackers open a hatch and pause in the entry. I ordered Sharpe to fire. Sharpe didn’t act. I ordered him to fire again. Sharpe acknowledged the order but did not fire. As I was ordering Sharpe to fire again, he began to argue, then I saw the attacker jerk back through the hatch and close it.” The master chief paused again, his face reddening. “Sharpe could have taken out that target. We could have gained control of that hatch much quicker than we did. One more dead attacker, one less position to fight through. It wasn’t long after that we heard that the bodies of Chief Yasmin and Petty Officer Hastings had been found not far from that location. They’d been killed, while we couldn’t get through that hatch, by an attacker who was still alive.”

  The courtroom sat silent for a moment after Wilmont finished speaking, then Major Hue walked toward a large display screen. “I will now play back the recording made by station systems of the perspective from Chief Sharpe’s suit during the incident in question.”

  Jen expected Carr to challenge the authenticity of the recording, but Carr just waited as it played. The image, as if looking out through the face shield of Sharpe’s suit, was fuzzy in spots and the sound distorted at times. But Jen could see the attacker appear in the hatch, hear Wilmont ordering Sharpe to fire, finally hear Sharpe’s acknowledgement of the order, then as the attacker vanished and the hatch slammed shut the recording ended.

  Major Hue walked back to the trial counsel’s table.

  Commander Carr faced Wilmont, her posture somehow poised as if ready to attack. The master chief watched her warily. “Master Chief Wilmont. How did you know the individual you sighted through Sharpe’s suit was in fact an attacker?”

  Wilmont seemed startled by the question. “He or she matched what we knew about them.”

  “And what we knew about them was that the attackers were wearing survival suits like our own, isn’t that right, master chief? Where are the identification markers on our suits?”

  “The shoulder, the right breast –“

  “How clearly could you see the right breast and shoulder of that figure you ordered Sharpe to fire on, master chief?”

  “I don’t –“

  “Weren’t they both obscured in whole or part by the coaming of the hatch and other intervening objects?”

  “Objection, Your Honor!” Major Hue was on his feet. “Defense Counsel is harassing the witness.”

  “Your Honor,” Carr stated, “I am doing my job of cross-examining the assertions of this witness.”

  Halstead pointed his finger at Carr, then at Hue. “Keep it civil, both of you. Defense Counsel is enjoined to watch her tone with the witness.”

  “Yes, Your Honor.” Carr spun to face Wilmont again and the master chief almost flinched. “Well, master chief? How certain could you be that the target you identified was the enemy, and not one of your masters-at-arms or another sailor assigned to this s
tation?”

  “I knew. You have to make calls in combat. Decisions. You have to make them fast. And people have to obey orders, do what they’re told. Otherwise people like Chief Yasmin and Petty Officer Hastings die. And they did die.”

  “Yes, they did,” Carr agreed. “Their time of death was established by surviving suit records at zero one forty four. Six minutes before you gave Sharpe an order to fire. Isn’t that right, master chief?”

  “Objection. Defense –“

  “Overruled.” Judge Halstead waved to Carr. “Continue, counsel.”

  “Thank you, Your Honor.” Carr paced a bit from side to side, looking to Jen like a shark circling its prey. “Master chief, did you at any time hesitate to give specific directions to those masters-at-arms on the front lines because they were on the scene and you were not?”

  “We had a good picture on the command and control circuits. That’s all I needed.”

  “The bodies of Chief Yasmin and Petty Officer Hastings were found in a location inside that hatch, weren’t they? The investigation concluded that they’d pushed too far forward, out of contact with the other masters-at-arms, for unknown reasons, most likely because the positions of the attackers and their fellow masters-at-arms were too hard for them to determine.” Wilmont frowned. “If they’d survived, they could have been trying to reach safety through that hatch, couldn’t they?” Wilmont just stared at Carr.

  Hue was on his feet again. “Objection. Your Honor, Defense Counsel is speculating and creating hypothetical situations.”

  “I agree. Objection sustained. Move on, Defense Counsel.”

  Carr stopped walking, focusing on Wilmont. “Have you, at any time, then or subsequent to the events of 6 July, asked Chief Sharpe why he didn’t obey your order to fire?”

  “No,” Wilmont answered shortly.

  Raising one eyebrow at Wilmont, Carr tapped her rank insignia with one finger.

  Wilmont flushed. “No, ma’am.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because in the operational forces we aren’t in the habit of explaining our orders! We expect them to be carried out when they’re given, without hesitation.” Wilmont paused. “A lawyer might not understand that.”