by C. X. Moreau
“Yes, sir,” answered Downs without a trace of emotion. He hesitated for a long moment, obviously searching for a response.
“Well, Corporal?” asked the captain.
“My orders that night, sir,” said Downs, “were to locate, close with, and destroy the enemy by fire and maneuver, or to repel the enemy assault by fire and close combat.”
As Downs finished his recital of the mission of a Marine rifle squad the captain slammed his tablet onto the table and cursed. The cheap table bounced under the impact of the captain’s fist and the pens, tablets, and coffee cups of the other officers leapt from the table before slamming back down in disarray. The captain closed and opened his fist several times before once again glaring directly at Downs. “Corporal Downs, perhaps you don’t realize the gravity of this situation. I am not sure why you and the other Marines who have given testimony before this board seem unable to appreciate the seriousness of the situation. But I am warning you, mister. You had better answer the questions of this board in a courteous and professional manner, or I’ll personally see that charges are brought against you and your rank reduced to private. Do you understand me, Corporal?”
Downs remained bolt upright in his chair and concentrated on answering “Yes, sir,” with a steady voice. He returned the captain’s stare without looking away and ignored the other officers. Simmons hesitated before looking at the sergeant major and first sergeant. “I am adjourning this board for ten minutes during which time I advise you, First Sergeant, to counsel Corporal Downs and the members of his fireteam on military etiquette and the severity of the UCMJ when dealing with Marines who deliberately mislead or lie to officers. Am I understood?”
The first sergeant had straightened at the mention of his name and now answered with a curt “Yes, sir” and nod of his head. The sergeant major stood by impassively, giving no indication of his opinion of the proceedings. Others in the room left after the five officers filed out. Downs, Smith, and Ferris remained in their seats. As soon as the last of the Marines had filed out of the room the first sergeant crossed to the door and slammed it shut. The sergeant major remained silent, leaning against the wall.
“Get off your fucking asses and lock your bodies!” screamed the first sergeant as Downs and the two others instantly leapt to a position of attention. The first sergeant approached to within an inch of Downs’s face and began his tirade. “Who the fuck do you think you are, mister? You think you’re something special? You think you can sit in front of these officers and give them your smart-ass answers and nothing is going to happen to you?” The first sergeant leaned closer to Downs and he was able to detect the odor of his after-shave and feel the heat radiating from his face. Downs concentrated on looking through the first sergeant, deliberately not focusing his eyes on the man, although their faces were almost touching.
“Well?” screamed the first sergeant. “Do you? I want an answer girls!”
“No, sir!” chorused the three.
“You fuckin’ better believe you can’t. Maybe you think your pals Griffin and Slocum need your help? Is that what this is, some sort of conspiracy? Well let me give you ladies a little information about Griffin and Slocum. Those two shit birds are going to the brig. And when they get there, they’ll be privates. Am I understood?”
“Yes, First Sergeant!”
“That’s better. Now when those officers come back in here you three are going to answer their questions in a manner I think is appropriate. No more of these half-baked answers.” The first sergeant circled around behind Downs and glared at Ferris and Smith. Downs could feel his breath on the back of his neck and he fought to remain impassive to the tirade. “And don’t think for a minute that this little chat we’re having is going to be the end of it. I won’t forget the way you shit birds embarrassed me in front of the captain and the other officers. I hope you enjoyed yourself this morning, Corporal Downs. It is going to be the last time you’ll enjoy anything for a long time. I’m going to make you a personal project, boy. I’m going to instill in you the proper respect for authority that you’re supposed to learn in boot camp. I’m going to be on you like stink on shit, boy.”
The first sergeant again placed his face within an inch of Downs’s. “And you know what, Corporal Downs?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’ll bet it won’t be long before you’re not a corporal anymore. Look at the three of you. You’re a disgrace! None of you has your boots properly polished or your utilities pressed in the prescribed manner. All three of you need haircuts, and I’ll bet your personal areas are as fucked up as the rest of you.”
“Our weapons are clean First Sergeant and …” began Downs.
At Downs’s comment the first sergeant leaned in closer and shoved him back toward Smith and Ferris in a fit of rage. “What did you say, boy? Did I ask you for one of your smart answers? You keep your fucking mouth shut until I give you permission to speak you little motherfucker. How dare you speak to me in that manner. You fucking piece of shit! I was in the Marine Corps before you were born and I’ll be in it when they muster you out as a private, if you even get mustered out and not thrown out.”
The first sergeant drew closer to Downs and said in a low menacing tone, “I own you, boy. From this day forward I’m going to be on you until you can’t take it anymore. You’re going to quit in front of the whole battalion and I’m going to send you home to momma and daddy a humiliated short-haired civilian with a funny haircut. Who the fuck do you think you are, boy? Who is going to help you when I come after you? Who, boy? I’ll tell you, Corporal Downs,” spat the first sergeant. “No fucking body. You’re all alone in this. When I get through with you the rest of the company won’t get within a hundred yards of you for fear I’ll come after them for associating with a shit bird like you. Am I understood?”
“I understand,” said Downs, deliberately failing to address the first sergeant by his rank in the proper military manner.
“Oh, that’s good, Corporal Downs. You play your little games with me, boy,” said the first sergeant in a harsh whisper. “You just remember that I own your little shavetail ass. Do you understand me, you little douche bag?”
“That will be all, First Sergeant! At ease Marines!” Downs and the others went to a position of parade rest, their hands folded behind their backs and their feet spread. The first sergeant spun to see Captain Simmons standing beside the sergeant major, “You’re dismissed, First Sergeant. And I don’t want you back in this room while these Marines are giving testimony.”
The first sergeant looked to the sergeant major as if to appeal the decision of the captain but the sergeant major stood impassively with his arms folded across his chest. As the first sergeant left the room the captain looked at the sergeant major and said, “Sergeant Major, I’ll speak to these Marines now. I’ll notify you when we are ready to resume.” The sergeant major straightened as the captain continued, “That will be all, Sergeant Major.”
The sergeant major said, “Aye, aye, sir” and left the room as the captain crossed to the tables that served as a desk and sat down. He rubbed his eyes, folded his soft cover with the Marine Corps emblem on the front, and let out a long sigh. He looked up as if nothing had happened and said, “Sit down, Corporal Downs. Lance Corporal Smith, Lance Corporal Ferris,” he continued, waving a hand toward the empty chairs. None of the three moved to take a seat and the captain stared at them from behind the table.
“Sit down, Marines. This isn’t on the official record. I would like to talk to you for a few minutes before the board reconvenes.” The three Marines sat, with Downs facing the captain as before. “Look, men. Sometimes the pressure of what we are trying to do here gets to all of us. Unfortunately, the first sergeant has used you three as a vent for his frustration. I can assure you that none of you will be the subject of a vendetta by the first sergeant or anyone else as a result of what has happened this morning.”
The captain paused as the three sat stoically in their chairs. He knew from p
revious experience that none of them would give him anything other than perfunctory answers. “If you would like I can arrange to have all three of you transferred to other companies in the battalion for the duration of the deployment. That will ensure that the first sergeant is not in a position to harass any of you.” The captain looked at Downs and asked, “Would that alleviate your worries, Corporal Downs?”
Downs hesitated, then answered, “I can’t speak for Lance Corporal Smith or Ferris, sir, but I would just as soon stay in Alpha Company.”
The captain nodded, and said, “I understand. What about the two of you?”
Smith and Ferris glanced at each other before Smith said, “We’ll stay where we’re at, sir.”
“Very well. We still have the matter of the board before us. I want you Marines to know that I understand your desire to protect Sergeant Griffin and Sergeant Slocum. All the board is trying to do is establish the facts of what happened. If some sort of punitive action is taken, and I’m not saying that is going to be necessary, then the matter is out of all of our hands anyway. Both Sergeant Griffin and Sergeant Slocum would be the first to tell you that they were responsible for what went on up there as the senior Marines present.”
The captain hesitated, looking at the three Marines and wondering what was in their minds. Junior enlisted men had always been something of an enigma to him. They had their own society, their own subculture within the Corps. And their own rigidly enforced code of honor. He had known from the start that Griffin and Slocum had done nothing wrong tactically. They had performed in the best traditions of an organization that prided itself on its aggressiveness and willingness to attack in the face of overwhelming odds. He had sensed from the moment he had been ordered to convene the board that it was going to be a witch-hunt organized at the whim of the Alpha Company first sergeant. When it became known around the battalion that he was searching for officers to sit on the board his peers began to avoid him. He had had a difficult time finding four other officers willing to sit on the board and had finally resorted to calling in personal favors and even ordering Lieutenant Walters to be a member of the board.
He silently thought that he could almost have predicted Downs’s responses word for word. He’s sitting there thinking that he can’t trust me, and he’s right. If he’s got any sense at all he’ll just stick to the line that he doesn’t know or he can’t remember. In his place, thought Simmons, that’s what I’d do. Still, there is going to be hell to pay from the colonel if none of the facts are brought forth that might substantiate the first sergeant’s accusations. Already, he knew, the sergeant major would speak to the colonel about his dismissal of the first sergeant from the proceedings. At the very least he could expect a mild-ass chewing from the Old Man. At worst he would get a poor evaluation on his annual fitness report that would effectively end his career before it had gotten started.
He realized that he had to say something to these Marines that would make them trust him and answer his questions. Nothing came to him, his heart just wasn’t in it. He finally looked at Downs and said, “We’ll reconvene in a couple of minutes. Let me remind all three of you that you are bound by your duty as Marines to tell the truth as you remember it. If nothing improper was done that night, then withholding information could be potentially more damaging than telling the full story. Am I making myself clear?”
The three answered “Yes, sir” simultaneously and he nodded. “Good,” he said. “One other thing, and I’m sure you’ve all been told before. For Marines it is possible to delegate authority, but not responsibility. Sergeant Griffin and Sergeant Slocum were ultimately responsible for what occurred that night. Nothing can change that, and none of you can be punished for something they did, or something they failed to do. Understood?”
“Yes, sir,” they answered.
“Fine. Lance Corporal Smith, tell the others to step inside and we’ll begin.”
The others filed into the small room as Downs sat expectantly in front of the officers. He was puzzled by the captain’s talk, but decided that his original plan was working and that the captain had probably determined that threats from the first sergeant were not going to be effective in eliciting answers. Downs resolved to stay with his plan and not answer any of the questions put to him except in the broadest of terms. He mentally forced himself not to turn and catch Griffin’s eye.
He wondered how Griffin was standing up to it. Downs knew that neither he nor Slocum had been questioned yet, although virtually everybody else at the hill that night had been. Downs reasoned that the officers had a fair idea of what had taken place, although their detailed knowledge was sketchy. The hardest part would be to answer questions in a respectful manner and at the same time deny them any real information. He had noticed Captain Roberts straining to control his laughter earlier, and combined with the talk of Captain Simmons, Downs felt that maybe their hearts weren’t in it. His only chance would be if they didn’t press too hard for the details. If they knew Griffin had ordered him to allow the Arabs to pass unmolested up the hill, and only to fire on them as they retreated, then Griffin would undoubtedly be subjected to a court-martial.
The captain cleared his throat and asked, “Are you ready to proceed now, Corporal?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Downs.
“Very good. As you may already know it has been my policy to allow Marines before this board to relate their version of events on the night in question in their own words. I have refrained from questioning them directly when possible to avoid the appearance of a trial, which this in not. Since you seem somewhat reluctant to relate your version of events the other members of the board and myself have decided to ask you questions regarding events that night. Am I making myself clear to you, Corporal Downs?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very well. Captain Larson will ask you a few questions if you are ready.”
“I’m ready, sir,” replied Downs evenly.
“Good morning, Corporal Downs,” said Captain Larson.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Corporal, for the purposes of this board, I’m particularly interested in the position of your fireteam during the fighting. Can you tell me where you and your team were?”
“Yes, sir. My team and I were positioned in the rear of the structure on the second floor.”
“And in what direction was your fire oriented?”
Downs hesitated, wondering where the captain was going with this question. Realizing that they must already know the answer to this type of question Downs answered, “Northwest, sir, if my memory serves.”
“Very well. And what type of targets did you engage that night?”
“Enemy targets, sir,” said Downs.
The officers shifted in their seats, but Captain Larson held up a hand, “I think it is fair to assume you and your fireteam wouldn’t knowingly engage friendly targets. Wouldn’t you agree, Corporal?”
“If the Captain says so, sir.”
“Don’t try my patience, Corporal. And that’s the only warning you will get from me, Marine. Am I understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, what type of targets did you and your fireteam engage that night?”
“Militia, sir. Irregular, well-armed, hostile.”
“And what weapons did you and your team fire upon them with, Corporal Downs?”
“Sir?” asked Downs.
“Which weapons at your disposal did you engage this militia with, Corporal? The question is plain enough.”
“All of the weapons at our disposal, sir.”
“Which were?”
“The M-16, the M-60 machine gun, and the M203 grenade launcher, sir.”
“And why did you engage this militia?”
“We took fire, sir. According to the seventh rule of engagement, we responded to hostile fire, directing our fire at the source of the enemy fire. No friendly snipers were present so we could not employ them, sir.”
Larson hesitated, making notes
on a legal pad in front of him. “Just a couple more questions, Corporal. Did you receive automatic weapons fire?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And how did you respond to that fire?” continued Larson.
“I returned fire with the M-60, sir,” answered Downs.
“Did you initiate automatic weapons fire on the militia force?” asked Larson.
“No, sir,” Downs lied.
“Did any of the Marines under your command initiate such fire?” pressed Larson.
“No, sir.”
“Were any of the Marines in your fireteam wounded that night? In this action?”
“None, sir,” answered Downs.
“So none of your Marines were wounded, yet you found it necessary to bring to bear the maximum amount of firepower available to you in this engagement?” asked Larson.
“That’s correct, sir,” said Downs, swallowing hard.
“Why, Corporal Downs? Are you aware of the fifth rule of engagement that requires that we utilize only the minimum amount of force necessary to accomplish any mission?” asked Larson.
“I’m aware of it, sir. I felt that the amount of force employed was the minimum. We were under heavy fire from a well-armed enemy force that was attacking our position. I was concerned for the safety of my men and the security of our position. We returned fire according to the Rules of Engagement. None of my Marines were wounded. I consider that a successful completion of the mission, sir.”
Larson nodded, “I’m inclined to agree with you, Corporal. However, I would like to clear up one thing. At what point did you take the enemy under fire?”
“After they had fired upon our position, sir,” answered Downs.
“I understand that, Corporal Downs. What I’m driving at is whether they had already engaged the main body at the front of the house or if you engaged them prior to the assault upon the gate?” asked the captain.
“I believe it was after the main body was engaged, sir. But I couldn’t be sure, I did not have line of sight to the front of the house,” said Downs.