No one spoke. Finally Corva said, “And has General Peters acted on that recommendation?”
Levin took a cigar from his drawer and peeled off the cedar wrapper. Tyson noted irrelevantly that Levin had switched to a better brand. Levin said, “General Peters, on receipt of this report, forwarded it to his Staff Judge Advocate who in turn made his recommendation to General Peters regarding the disposition of this case. The Staff Judge Advocate concurred with Major Harper that an Article 32 investigation be initiated. General Peters in turn concurred with his SJA.”
Corva observed, “That’s a lot of concurrence. I hope there is no command influence present in those concurrences.”
Levin replied, “Command influence would be illegal, Mr. Corva. This matter is being judged wholly on its legal merits.”
“Really? I wonder if the decision not to dismiss this rather weak case is not a result of some sort of subtle command influence or the perception of same. In other words, to name titles, if not names: the Judge Advocate General, the Attorney General, the secretaries of the Army and of Defense, and the President of the United States. If I were General Peters, I’d hear those drums beating cadence, and I’d damned sure march to that beat.”
Levin finally lit his cigar and drew on it until the tip glowed red. He said, “That is a serious allegation. And I’m not the one to hear it.”
“No,” said Corva, “but until I put it in writing and send it off to everyone I can think of, would you be kind enough to pass on my thoughts to General Peters?”
“If you wish.” Levin handed Tyson a sheet of paper. “These are the orders convening the Article 32 hearing. The date, as you can see, is 9 September, which gives you sufficient time to locate any additional witnesses for the defense as may exist. The place is here, at Fort Hamilton. Specifically the Stonewall Jackson room on the second level of the Officers’ Club. The hearing will be closed to the media and the public. Any questions?”
Tyson glanced at the orders. He replied, “No, sir.” He handed the paper to Corva.
Corva examined the convening orders with some care before putting them in his briefcase. He addressed Colonel Levin. “I’d like you to pass on another comment to General Peters and his Staff Judge Advocate. I wish to remind them that the accused has a specific right under the UCMJ to request of the Army their assistance on his behalf. Therefore, if we are to have a formal investigation and hearing, I want the Army, at the Army’s expense, to continue their efforts to locate the missing witnesses and to advise the accused of the steps taken to accomplish that.”
Colonel Levin nodded. “I will pass on your reminder to the convening authorities.” Levin glanced at Captain Hodges, then made eye contact with Corva and said, “But my advice to Lieutenant Tyson and to you is that you should expend some effort yourselves in locating these witnesses if you believe they are going to be witnesses for the defense.”
Corva replied, “There is no doubt in my mind that they are, Colonel. And in the interests of justice I’m certain the government will use its considerable resources to assist me in finding them and that the government will do so with the same zeal they’ve shown thus far in pursuing this case. And if they don’t, I am going to take appropriate steps to have this case dismissed. I’ll put that in writing, and you can forward it to General Peters.”
Levin drew on his cigar. “Anything further, Mr. Corva?”
“No, Colonel.”
The intercom buzzed, and Levin picked it up. He listened, then said to Captain Hodges, “Sergeant Wolton needs some orders signed. We’ll take a five-minute break here.”
Hodges stood and left the office.
Colonel Levin leaned across his desk and looked at Tyson. “Real crock of shit, eh, Tyson?”
Tyson was momentarily taken aback by the sudden shift in tone and manner. He replied, “Yes, sir. Real crock.”
Levin glared at Corva. He said gruffly, “Save the legal razzle-dazzle for the hearing. You’re giving me a headache.”
Corva smiled. “You gave me a headache at Fort Dix.”
Levin looked again at Tyson. “Smoke if you like.”
Tyson shook his head. The thought occurred to him that Levin had contrived to send Hodges out of the room.
Levin said to Tyson, “You understand that, as your commanding officer, this is my job.”
Tyson replied, “Of course. That’s what I used to say to the men I was screwing.”
Corva laughed.
Levin glowered at Tyson, then he smiled wryly. He said, “Just keep remembering that for the rest of this session.”
“Yes, sir.”
Corva said, “Colonel, as Lieutenant Tyson’s commanding officer, I would like you to offer testimony as to his character if this ever gets to the sentencing stage.”
Levin chewed ruminatively on his cigar. He finally replied, “I hope this doesn’t get that far. But if it does I don’t know if my brief association with Lieutenant Tyson would count for much.”
“I think it would help for a court-martial board to hear that Lieutenant Tyson performed his duty here satisfactorily. Yes or no, Colonel?”
Colonel Levin put his cigar in the ashtray. He looked at Corva. “You may have noticed that I’m a little old to be a lieutenant colonel. You may also have noticed that Fort Hamilton is not the Pentagon or NATO headquarters. The long and the short of it is that I’ve been passed over once for promotion to full colonel, and I’ve gotten shit duty to boot. Be that as it may, I like Hamilton, even if the Army considers it the waiting room to oblivion. I’m up for full bird again, and there’s talk I will be post commander when Colonel Hill leaves in October.”
Levin looked at Corva closely. “Maybe you can understand, Mr. Corva. My father was a maintenance man here. And this will be my last duty station, being I’ve got nearly thirty years in. From here I’ll go home, back to Brighton Beach, down the Shore Parkway a bit. And I’ll have come full circle. And once in a while I’ll return here and bring my wife to dinner at the club and appear at a few functions as the former post commander and do whatever old soldiers do who retire around Army installations. And it will have been a good life.” He looked at Tyson.
Corva said, “Does that mean the answer is no?”
Levin turned back to him. “No. It doesn’t. The answer is actually yes. I’d be happy to testify as to Lieutenant Tyson’s good character. I just wanted you to appreciate it.”
Corva smiled.
Tyson said, “Thank you, Colonel.”
Levin grunted. No one spoke for the next few minutes. The door opened, and Captain Hodges took his seat without a word.
Levin shuffled some papers on his desk. “All right . . .” He drew a long wheezy breath. “All right. . . .” He turned to Tyson and cleared his throat. “Lieutenant Benjamin Tyson, I have been instructed to read to you the charges that have been preferred against you.” Levin drew a long form from the folder, held it up so it hid his face, and read: “Lieutenant Benjamin J. Tyson, you are charged as follows: Violation of the Uniform Code of Military Justice, Article 118, murder. Specification One: In that Benjamin J. Tyson, First Lieutenant, United States Army, presently assigned to the adjutant at Fort Hamilton, Brooklyn, New York, then a member of Alpha Company, Fifth Battalion, Seventh Cavalry, of the First Air Cavalry Division, did, in or about the city of Hue, in the province of Thua Thien, in the former Republic of Vietnam, in or about the vicinity of Hôpital Miséricorde, on or about 15 February 1968, engage in acts which were inherently dangerous to others and evinced a wanton disregard of human life, causing the murder of an unknown number, not less than ninety, Oriental human beings, males and females, of various ages, whose names are unknown, patients and staff of said hospital, by means of shooting them or causing them to be shot, or ordering them to be shot, with rifle and/or pistol fire, or causing their deaths with incendiary hand grenades, and/or by other lethal means and devices not yet known.”
Levin looked over the charge sheet, and his eyes passed briefly over Tyson’s fac
e. Tyson sat with his chin in his hand, his eyes focused on the wall behind Levin, his mind on some distant time and place. The room was absolutely still.
Levin cleared his throat again and continued, “Specification Two: In that Benjamin J. Tyson did, in or about the city of Hue, in the province of Thua Thien, in the former Republic of Vietnam, in or about the vicinity of Hôpital Miséricorde, on or about 15 February 1968, engage in acts which were inherently dangerous to others and evinced a wanton disregard of human life, causing the murder of approximately fourteen Caucasian human beings, male and female, in the manner stated in Specification One, whose names are as follows: Jean Monteau, male, physician, French national, age forty-six; Evan Dougal, male, physician, Australian national, age thirty-four; Bernhard Rueger, male, physician, German national, age twenty-nine; Marie Broi, female, nurse, French national, age twenty-five; Sister Monique (Yvette Dulane), female, nurse/nun, French national, age twenty-one; Sister Aimee (Henriette La Blanc), female, nurse/nun, French national, age twenty-one; Sister Noelle (Reine Mauroy), female, nurse/nun, Belgian national, age twenty-three; Pierre Galante, male, nurse, French national, age thirty; Henri Taine, male, nurse, French national, age thirty-one; Maarten Lubbers, male, laboratory technician, Dutch national, age twenty-three; Brother Donatus (full name unknown), male, staff assistant, nationality unknown, age forty-one; Sister Juliette (full name unknown), female, nurse/nun, nationality unknown, age fifty-three; Susanne Dougal, female (wife of Evan Dougal), Australian national, age thirty-five; Linda Dougal, female (daughter of Evan and Susanne Dougal), Australian national, age fifteen.”
Colonel Levin stared at the charge sheet for a few more seconds, then put it down. He relit his cigar and puffed on it.
Tyson could hear the typewriters in the outer office. Through the open window came the sound of the Twenty-sixth U.S. Army Band practicing on the drill field. They were playing “Sweet Georgia Brown.”
Levin drew a copy of the charge sheet from his folder and handed it directly to Tyson. Tyson, without looking at it, gave it to Corva, who dropped it into his open briefcase without a glance.
Levin handed Corva several stapled sheets of paper. “These are the names and brief biographies of the alleged Caucasian victims specified in the charge sheet. They were supplied to Major Harper by the Catholic Relief Agency in Paris and represent that agency’s missing personnel—plus two dependent family members—who were assigned to duty at Miséricorde Hospital at the time of the alleged incident.” Levin said to Corva, who was flipping through the pages, “Questions, Mr. Corva?”
“Dozens of them, Colonel, but unfortunately you could not answer any of them.”
“No, I probably couldn’t.” Levin ground out his cigar.
Corva said, “Will that be all, Colonel?”
Hodges answered, “The colonel will let you know when that is all.”
Corva smiled and leaned toward Hodges. He said in an amiable tone of voice, “How would you like to spend the rest of the day in the hospital?”
Hodges jumped to his feet. “How dare you threaten—”
Corva stood. “That was no threat. That—”
Levin bellowed, “At ease! Sit down, Captain!” He turned to Corva. “Please take your seat, Mr. Corva.”
Hodges and Corva sat. Tyson stared out the window in pointed disinterest. The Army band had struck up George M. Cohan’s “Over There,” and Tyson tapped his foot to the lively tune.
Levin said to Hodges, “Captain, you will address Mr. Corva with the courtesy which an officer in the United States Army extends to all civilians. This is not Prussia, and you are not in the Prussian Army. Loosen up, man.”
Hodges’s face had gone from red to livid. He snapped, “Yes, sir!”
Tyson smiled absently as his foot beat faster to the quickening cadence of the song.
Levin said to Corva, “I’ll let your remark pass, being it was provoked.” He said to Tyson, “Lieutenant, if you’re going to break into a tap dance, could you wait until you’re clear of this building?”
Tyson stopped tapping. “Yes, sir.”
Levin picked up a piece of paper and read it to himself with some concentration, as though he were trying to make sense of it. Finally he put down the paper and turned to Tyson. “Lieutenant Tyson, I have been instructed by Colonel Hill, the post commander, to place you in arrest.”
Tyson made brief eye contact with Corva, then stared at Levin.
Levin looked away. He continued, “You may know from your prior service that military arrest is a moral and legal restraint, not a physical restraint. However, it is a greater restraint of freedom of movement than the restriction which you are now under. Please don’t interrupt, Mr. Corva. Just listen. Lieutenant Tyson, the conditions of your arrest are as follows: You are not required to perform your full military duties, and in fact, your duties at the museum are herewith terminated, and your name has been removed from all post duty rosters. You will not leave this post without permission from me or an officer designated by me to grant such permission. You will report in to this office at nine hundred hours each day, to me or to Captain Hodges or to the weekend duty officer. You will sign in, in a book provided for that purpose, every three hours until twenty-one hundred hours. You will be in your quarters after that time and remain there until you report in the following day at nine hundred hours. You will not bear arms. You will confine your post activities to the PX, the commissary, the Officers’ Club, your quarters, and the gymnasium if you wish to use it. The provost marshal has been instructed to monitor the period when you are restricted to quarters.” Levin handed Tyson a sheet of paper. “This is the arrest order. Do you have any questions?”
Tyson shook his head, which normally would have provoked Hodges into telling him to answer the colonel verbally. But Hodges seemed permanently rebuked, albeit content with the ultimate outcome of this session.
Corva said, “I intend to protest this arrest to Colonel Hill. It is onerous, unnecessary, and it is most irregular to treat an officer in this manner. Also, it sucks.”
Levin nodded as though in agreement. He said, however, “You have no legal remedies concerning an arrest order. But if you want a meeting with the post commander, I can arrange that.”
Corva stood. “Is that all?” He glared at Hodges.
Levin nodded. “That’s all I’ve got to say. How about you or your client?”
Corva said, “My client requests permission to leave the post at eighteen hundred hours for the purpose of getting drunk with me.”
Levin replied, “Permission granted.” He said to Tyson, “You will report here to me at nine hundred hours tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.”
Levin stood, followed by Tyson and Captain Hodges. Levin looked at Tyson, then with a barely perceptible shrug said, “That will be all, Lieutenant.”
Tyson saluted, did an about-face, and walked smartly out of the office.
CHAPTER
34
Ben Tyson passed through the corridor and down the stairs, vaguely aware of where he was going, and less aware of the footsteps following him.
Corva caught up with him. Tyson lit a cigarette as he left the headquarters building. He said to Corva, “Did you know that was going to happen?”
“Sort of.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You knew, Ben. Let’s stop pretending this is some sort of silly bureaucratic screwup. These people are serious. They are charging you with murder. You knew that from the first day your friend handed you Picard’s book.”
Tyson drew on his cigarette. He replied, “I knew long before then.” Tyson said, “Well, Vince, why didn’t we beat the shit out of them?”
Corva smiled. “You’re sounding like a hotheaded dago now.”
They walked along Lee Avenue, past the antique cannon display, and approached the main gate.
Corva said, “Where are you going? You can’t leave post until eighteen hundred hours.”
“Fuck ’em. I don’t
even know what time that is.” He passed through the pedestrian walk of the gates, absently returned the MP’s salute, and turned left, under the elevated bridge ramp toward the Shore Parkway.
Corva said, “That’s six o’clock. Come on. Let’s go back. I am responsible for you.”
“No one is responsible for me but me. They can take their arrest order, roll it up, put a light coat of oil on it, and shove it up their ass. And if you don’t want to be responsible, leave.”
Corva drew a deep breath but said nothing. They made their way through a small park down to the shore. Tyson walked east along the water’s edge.
Corva followed a few feet behind. He said, “People who are accused of a heinous crime often delude themselves into thinking they didn’t do it. So when the law starts to inconvenience them, they get outraged. Listen to me, Ben. I haven’t asked you for many details of what happened, but you know, I know, and the Army knows that a terrible slaughter of innocents took place at that hospital. You heard the roll call of the dead, as the prosecutor will undoubtedly say. Not to mention ‘not less than ninety Oriental human beings.’”
“I liked that. The way they neatly divided the white folk from the Oriental folk.”
“They had the Caucasians’ names, that’s why they did that, not because of any racial bias, or—”
“Oh, bullshit. Would I be here now, twenty years later, if it was just a village of a couple hundred gooks? Slopes? Dinks? Zipperheads? Slants? What else did we call them, Vince? What did you call them? Anything but Oriental human beings. But I fucked up good. I zapped fourteen real people.”
“Okay, you don’t have to tell me all that. I know what we did and how we behaved. Christ, if I could go back . . .”
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