by C. X. Moreau
“Downs!”
“By the water bull, Sergeant Griffin!” he answered.
Downs felt Mac tighten his grip on his forearm. “Don’t let them see me crying, Steve. I wanna do this like a man. Don’t let Sergeant Griffin see me cry. Okay?”
“Okay,” said Downs, leaning over his friend and wet his hands from the faucet above Mac’s head. Downs quickly smeared the tears on Mac’s face with his hands. Three more rounds whistled overhead and exploded as Griffin and a radioman slid around the corner of the sandbagged wall.
“Where’s the Doc?” asked Downs. “He needs the fucking Doc!” Downs furiously screamed “Corpsman up!” as Griffin leaned over Mac.
“Okay, MacCallum, help is on the way. Just hang on. The Doc is on his way and a medevac bird is coming for some second platoon casualties. We’ll probably just throw you on it.” Mac nodded, struggling to repress his tears. Griffin grabbed Downs by his shoulder harness and spun him around, opening his first aid kit. Jerking out the plastic wrapped pressure bandage he handed it to Downs and looked into Downs’s eyes, ignoring Mac. “Treat him with this, Corporal Downs. You know how to do it. Make sure you get a tight seal. Do it now,” said Griffin, roughly shoving the bandage into Downs’s chest. Griffin turned to the radioman and asked, “Are we up with that bird?”
“Yeah, Sergeant Griffin. He’s Tango One,” said the man, handing Griffin the handset.
“Tango One, Tango One, this is Charlie Bravo Four. Do you copy?”
“Roger, Charlie Bravo Four. Give me a sit rep. Over,” came the voice of the pilot.
“Tango One, I have a man down who needs immediate, I repeat, immediate, medevac. Can you assist. Over.”
“That’s affirmative, Bravo Four. Are you taking hostile fire?”
Griffin hesitated as two more mortar rounds impacted and scanned the sky for signs of the helicopter. He glanced at Downs and said, “Get it on there tight, Downs. Hold it on if you have to, but it’s got to be tight.”
Downs increased his pressure on the bandage while Griffin keyed the handset and said, “Negative, Tango One. We are not receiving hostile fire and request immediate medevac. I will mark my position with green smoke. Do you copy? Over.”
“Roger, Charlie Bravo,” came the voice of the pilot, “I copy green smoke marks your pos. Throw it when you hear my engines, Charlie Bravo. I’m the only bird in the air. Do you copy? Over.”
“Roger,” answered Griffin as he reached for the smoke canister in his flak jacket pocket. Looking at Downs he said, “As soon as we hear the bird I’ll throw the smoke. He’s got to be close. Hang in there, MacCallum. Everything is okay.”
The corpsman ran up and shoved Downs out of the way. Kneeling over Mac he examined the bandage without comment. Looking at Downs he said, “Hold it tight to his side and don’t let off of the pressure even if you hurt him, got that?” Downs nodded as the corpsman removed a syringe of morphine from his bag and held it upright between two dirty fingers. He flicked it firmly with a fingernail as a drop of the oily liquid dripped from the needle.
“Okay, Mac,” said the corpsman in a bantering tone, “the doctor is here and this little jewel is about to make it all better. Just lay chilly man, ’cause the doctor will make everything cool.” He bent over Mac’s arm, deftly exposing a vein and injecting the drug in one movement. “How does that feel, Mac?”
Mac attempted a smile, but managed only a sidelong grin at Downs. “C’mon Mac. I can hear the bird. You’re on the way, man,” said the corpsman. As Griffin prepared to throw the smoke Mac began to convulse. His coughing overcame him and a bloody froth covered his lips. His legs quivered uncontrollably.
“Shit!” cursed the corpsman. “He ain’t gonna make it by himself. Downs, you and Sergeant Griffin hold him down for me!” As the corpsman attempted to resuscitate him, Downs felt his friend’s grip tighten, then loosen on his arm. The corpsman eventually straightened up, sat on his heels, and looked at Griffin while his fingers went to Mac’s neck searching for a pulse. “I’m sorry, Sergeant Griffin. I’m really sorry. He didn’t have a chance. Even if the bird had gotten here I don’t think he had a chance. It must’ve pierced both his lungs, or maybe his heart. I’m really sorry, Corporal Downs. There just isn’t a lot I could do for him.” The corpsman idly threw his gear into his green canvas bag and said to no one in particular, “God, I hate this fucking place.”
“Charlie Bravo Four, Charlie Bravo Four, this is Tango One. Throw your smoke, son. I need to see that smoke now. Over.”
Griffin keyed the handset. “Tango One, this is Charlie Bravo Four. My casualty is no longer a priority. I repeat, my casualty is no longer a priority medevac. Do you copy? Over.”
As Downs looked into his friend’s face he heard the tinny voice of the pilot, “Roger, Charlie Bravo. I copy that you do not, repeat, do not, require assistance. Can you confirm?”
“Affirmative,” said Griffin, “Charlie Bravo Four. Out.”
CHAPTER
20
Griffin looked out the window through the fog of plastic the previous occupants of the room had used to replace the glass. He angrily ripped the tape aside and threw the plastic back, giving himself a clear view of the battalion positions around the perimeter of the airport. The cool morning air felt good on his face, and he had just taken his first hot shower in two weeks, but he felt no peace. He and Slocum had been ordered back to the battalion headquarters and told to report to the H&S company commander at 0900 this morning. In the parlance of the Marine Corps, Griffin knew that meant he and Slocum had been accused by the first sergeant. From experience he knew that it mattered little if he was actually guilty, or if he had good reasons for taking actions not sanctioned by the command. What mattered was that the first sergeant wanted to see him punished and that the officers of the battalion would side with the first shirt whether they believed him and Slocum or not.
The issue of guilt or innocence would be lost in the greater issue of maintaining discipline in the battalion. The first sergeant would by now have talked privately with the various officers responsible for their fates, and he would have given them the impression that Griffin and Slocum were a pair of misfits who had no respect for authority and should have never been promoted to the rank of sergeant.
Slocum entered the room and Griffin said, “Morning, Bobby.” Slocum toweled his short hair and walked to the window and stood by Griffin who continued to gaze out over the airport.
“Where did you get off to so early this morning? You must have been up a couple of hours before daylight,” said Slocum.
“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep so I went up on the roof and talked to the guys on the OP there.”
“No shit, huh? What are you so worried about? It’s not like they’re going to shave our heads and send us to Parris Island,” said Slocum. “For Christ’s sake, all we did was kick the shit out of a few rag-heads. Fuck ’em if they can’t take a joke.”
Griffin shook his head and said, “I don’t think it’s going to be that easy, Bobby. The first shirt is out for our ass, and to be honest, I think he’s got us. The bottom line is we disobeyed orders. And that means they have all they need to hammer us.”
“Aw, fuck him,” said Slocum casually. “What’s he gonna look like standing in front of the Zeros whining about how these two big bad sergeants went out and kicked ass. That’s our job. What are they gonna convict us of, winning a firefight?”
“How about disobedience of a direct and lawful order. That ought to be good for a stripe or two,” said Griffin morosely.
“Well, I know you’re a lifer and all, but they can have my fucking stripes. I’m sick of all their bullshit anyway. I EAS almost the day we’re due back in the States and my young ass is headed back home to North Carolina just as fast as I can get there. If they want to bust me back down to private, it’s okay by me. It just means to me that I don’t have to be responsible for anything or anybody anymore. And that’s fine with me. I never much cared for it anyway.”
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p; “Great,” said Griffin, “ambition in reverse.”
Slocum laughed. “Don’t worry so much. You’re takin’ all this way too serious. Just relax. Fuck ’em anyway.”
“Yeah. Right, Bobby. I’ll just stroll into my court-martial and pick my teeth while they crucify me and ruin my career. It’ll be great. I can hardly wait. Hope you enjoy the show.”
“Well, if we don’t tell them anything they won’t know anything. And I personally don’t have a lot to say to any of those assholes. They can’t make us say anything that is going to incriminate ourselves, and I just ain’t going to say anything at all. Since none of those assholes were anywhere near the actual fighting, and I’m including our much-loved first sergeant, how the hell do they know what really went on?”
“All they have to do,” countered Griffin, “is put us in separate rooms and tell us to give them our account of events. If we try to lie they’ll see the differences in our stories and they’ll know we’re lying.”
“Are you stupid or what? Why would you answer any of their questions? If they want to know what goes on at the front then they ought to be up there when it happens. I’m not going to answer any of their questions. Hell, if they ask me I’m going to tell them I can’t even remember if I saw you there.”
Griffin burst out laughing. “Well, maybe so, but you’re going to look awful stupid.”
Slocum laughed and replied, “Probably so. I’ll come visit you in the brig, professor. Since lookin’ smart is so important to you.”
Griffin let out a long breath and said, “I just don’t think it’s going to be that easy. Even if they don’t make us talk to them they can still go to every Marine who was there and ask him what went on. Sooner or later they’ll piece together what really happened, and then they’ll have us.”
“And who do you think is going to tell them anything? Nobody in my squad would talk to them. And everybody in your squad is afraid to talk to them for fear you’ll have a flashback to your life in New York as a hoodlum, go berserk, and kill them and their families. I just don’t think we have a lot to worry about as long as we stay cool.” Slocum slapped Griffin on the back and said, “You just follow my lead in there and ol’ Bobby will save your sorry ass one last time.”
Griffin smiled at his friend and said, “I hope so. I really do. I’ve got a lot riding on this.”
“Like what, Dave? You’re one of the best infantry sergeants in the regiment. What are they going to gain by hammering you? Jesus, they’re always beggin’ for us to stay in for another hitch and make a career out of the Marine Corps. You’re on your second cruise already. If they bust you now they have to figure that you’ll just get pissed and get out at the first opportunity. Whose purpose does that serve? They would be the losers in the long run, not you. Even the Zeros ought to be able to see that.”
“Well, I don’t think they give a damn if they lose one more sergeant, but that wasn’t what I meant.”
“So what did you mean?”
“Just the whole thing, you know? I made my way up through the ranks to sergeant. My old man is proud of me for the first time in his life. He goes around the docks telling everybody how his son is gonna be a career Marine. It means something to him. It means something to me, Bobby.”
Griffin paused for a moment, then continued, “I’m not like most of you guys. I always knew I wanted to be a Marine. I can’t ever remember wanting to be anything else. And for as fucked up as the system is, I know I want to stay in and keep being a Marine. If I get busted again at this point in my career I’m finished. I’ll never make sergeant again in time to regain the lost ground and get on the selection list for staff sergeant. They’ll rift me out in another few years and I’ll go home a short-haired civilian like any other shit bird who couldn’t handle it.”
The two stood in silence for a few minutes before Slocum began to dress in a clean camouflage uniform. From his pack Griffin removed a tin of black boot polish and began to buff his boots. As the two finished dressing they rolled their bedding and strapped it to their packs, then stacked the packs in the corner of the small room.
“You ready?” asked Griffin.
“Yep,” answered Slocum. “Might as well go and get it over with.”
Griffin opened the door and stepped onto the tiled corridor leading around the open atrium of the building, noting that the interior of the building was without electricity and therefore remained dim even though the sun shone brightly outside.
“Wonder what was in this place before we took over?” asked Slocum. “It’s pretty big. Must’ve been some kind of office building.” As the two proceeded down the corridor to the staircase at the east end of the building they saw Captain Ward, the Alpha company commander, climbing the stairs and coming toward them. “Hey,” said Slocum slapping Griffin on the chest and nodding in the direction of the captain, “it’s the Rock Man. What do you suppose he’s doing here?”
“We’re about to find out,” answered Griffin under his breath as he nodded and said, “Good morning, sir,” automatically at the captain’s approach.
“Good morning, Sergeant Griffin. Sergeant Slocum. How are they treating you here at battalion headquarters?”
“Fine, sir,” they replied in unison, neither showing any emotion. Griffin and Slocum instinctively locked their expressions into the emotionless mask every Marine was taught to assume when addressing an officer.
“I’ve spoken with Staff Sergeant Whitney about the hearing this morning, Sergeant Griffin. He seems to think that you’re not going to get a fair shake.” The captain paused and stared at Griffin, obviously looking for a reaction before going further. Griffin returned his gaze, but said nothing.
“Well, I don’t agree with him,” continued Ward. “Captain Simmons, the H&S company commander, will be heading up the inquiry. He’s a friend of mine and what’s more he used to be your company commander. He’s knows what sort of Marines the two of you are, and I have faith in him to be fair.”
Griffin and Slocum both answered with a perfunctory “Yes, sir” and the captain paused awkwardly. “It’s a fair system. You have to put your trust in it and let it run its course. The officers who will sit on the board are infantrymen just like yourselves. They know how a situation can change and require some independent decision making. I urge you both to cooperate with the inquiry. If you tell them what happened then I think any formal action can be avoided. If you try to avoid answering their questions,” said Ward as he looked at Slocum, “or otherwise avoid giving them the facts, it will cast you in a very unfavorable light. Both of you should bear that in mind, and be aware of the gravity of the situation.”
“So what you’re saying, sir,” drawled Slocum, “is if we give them the facts just the way things happened, then everything will be okay?”
The captain looked warily at Slocum before answering, “Yes, Sergeant Slocum. That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Slocum scratched the back of his neck and said, “Let me get this straight one more time, sir. What they’re doing today is some sort of inquiry. Just a fact-finding mission. Right, sir?”
“That’s correct,” answered Ward.
“And if they like what we tell them, then nothing is going to be done. I mean, no court-martial or NJP?”
Sensing the trap the captain gave another reluctant “That’s correct” before Slocum continued as Griffin stared at the captain’s face.
“Okay, sir. But what if we tell them something they don’t like? Can they court-martial us and use what we’ve said today against us? I mean, they’ll already know the facts and then they won’t need to ask us any more questions. And if they decide to court-martial us it’s pretty fair to assume that something we said made them take that decision. Right, sir?”
The young captain drew a deep breath. It was unheard of for a sergeant to address a captain the way Slocum had, the sarcasm in his voice subtle but obvious. “Everything you say today will weigh in the board’s decision whether or not to court-martial
one or both of you. I don’t think there is any reason for either of you not to say anything but the truth. From what I understand you both did your duty. In another situation you would probably be up for decorations. But this is a different matter.”
Griffin sensed the captain’s unease, but felt his anger rising. He had known the captain since the day he arrived in the battalion. Griffin had always thought him to be a fair and competent officer. The Rock Man, as he had come to be known by his troops, had earned Griffin’s respect. Griffin knew him to be compassionate, a rare quality in junior officers trying their best to make it in an organization that demanded their individual best and culled those who failed to deliver it with merciless precision.
Griffin looked at him again, sensing Ward’s discomfort. He’s not much older than I am, thought Griffin. But no matter what he’s saying he knows in his heart that something here isn’t right. He’s not like the others. He’s not just some college boy who decided to join the Marines because he couldn’t find a job. He belongs here, and it is bothering him to see the first shirt come after us like this.
Griffin swallowed hard and asked, “Can they use what we say against us or not, sir? That’s the bottom line for Sergeant Slocum and me, and you’re probably the only one in the battalion who can tell us.”
The captain again looked Griffin in the eye. “Anything you say today, anything at all, Sergeant Griffin, counts. And the officers on the board are obligated to give their decision based on the facts presented to them.” The captain paused again. “The bottom line is that if you answer a question today, and you incriminate yourself or Sergeant Slocum, the officers on the board are obliged to hold you accountable. For them to do less would be dereliction of duty.”
Griffin and Slocum exchanged glances but said nothing. The three stood in awkward silence before Griffin finally asked, “Will that be all, sir?”
The captain hesitated for a moment, obviously wanting to say more, but unsure of himself. “That’s all, Sergeant Griffin. You and Sergeant Slocum think about what I’ve said.”