Corva shook his head. “Hearts and minds.”
“You want to hear all the details, or do you want to finish your lunch first?”
“What do you think?”
“Have your lunch first.”
* * *
The court reconvened at one-thirty, and Colonel Pierce said to Brandt, “You are reminded that you are still under oath.”
Brandt nodded an acknowledgment.
Colonel Pierce apparently had not thought of a way to rephrase his last question because he asked instead, “Dr. Brandt, you have testified that your platoon had knowledge that they were approaching a hospital in the village of An Ninh Ha, a western suburb of Hue.”
“That is correct.”
“What was the platoon’s reaction to this?”
Corva stood. “Objection, your honor. How is the witness supposed to gauge the reaction of nineteen men strung out over a distance of perhaps a quarter kilometer?”
“Objection sustained.” He looked at Pierce. “Could you rephrase the question?”
“Yes, your honor.” He looked at Brandt. “Did you hear any reaction to the information that you were on your way to a hospital?”
Brandt crossed his legs, and Tyson saw he wore light gray loafers with little tassels on them. His socks were almost sheer, and Tyson could see his white skin underneath.
Brandt replied, “During the rest breaks, I would often walk up and down the file to check on the physical condition of the platoon. During this time I heard reactions from several men about Lieutenant Tyson’s decision to make this hospital an intermediate objective on our march to Hue.”
“How would you characterize these reactions that you heard?”
“Mostly positive. The men seemed excited by the prospect of encountering some civilization.”
“So they had no preconceived negative feelings about this?”
“On the contrary. I heard Lieutenant Tyson give a few of the men incentives. He spoke about hot chow, showers, and women.”
“Could you be more specific?”
“I heard him speak to a man named Simcox and tell him that he might get a blow job at the hospital.”
A few people in the spectator pews gasped. A man laughed, then became abruptly quiet.
Pierce waited a moment, then said, “Did you take this to mean that Lieutenant Tyson was suggesting to Simcox that he . . . Simcox . . . how do I phrase this . . . ?” Pierce smiled self-consciously.
Dr. Brandt volunteered a clarification. “A blow job, of course, is slang for fellatio. Lieutenant Tyson was telling Simcox that there was a chance of having this performed on him—Simcox—at the hospital. I assume Lieutenant Tyson meant by a woman.”
“Thank you. Did you have the impression that Lieutenant Tyson meant to commandeer this hospital?”
“I don’t know if he did or not. But by his statements about women and other comforts at the hospital, the men became quite aroused, and as the patrol moved toward the hospital, the expectations of the men became somewhat unrealistic.”
Pierce continued mining this vein, and Tyson thought it was rather smart of Pierce to show that the men had positive feelings before reaching the hospital and that these feelings were a result of their platoon leader promising them rape, pillage, and plunder. Neither Pierce nor Brandt was going to be satisfied with proving only that he was a murderer. They wanted, also, to show that he was without integrity, venal, and debased. And there were two hundred people listening to this, including the press, people he knew, his wife, son, and mother. He wondered why he hadn’t broken Brandt’s neck.
The examination of Steven Brandt went on. Six or seven times Pierce drew the platoon to the hospital, then pulled them back with tangential or background questions posed to Brandt. Brandt seemed in no hurry either. He answered each of Pierce’s questions fully and apparently objectively.
When Pierce finally took the court to the open square in front of the hospital, everyone was ready not only to hear but also to believe what Dr. Steven Brandt was going to say.
Pierce asked, “How many shots rang out from the vicinity of the hospital?”
“About five or six in quick succession.”
“Could you tell approximately where they were coming from?”
“No. And neither could anyone around me.”
“So you can’t say for sure if they actually came from the hospital?”
“No.”
“But in Picard’s book and in previous testimony, it was stated that the hospital was the source of the sniper fire.”
“I never told Picard it was. I don’t know where Picard heard that. I thought the hospital was the least likely place an enemy sniper would choose.”
“Did anyone around you at the time believe the firing was coming from the hospital?”
“Yes. Lieutenant Tyson did. He directed some fire back toward the hospital. I almost never got involved in tactical questions, but this time I asked him to stop the firing at the hospital.”
“What did he reply?”
“He told me to mind my own business. Which I did. We had two wounded and one killed.”
“Could you name them?”
“Yes. Robert Moody was wounded in the leg. A light flesh wound. Arthur Peterson was hit here—” Brandt pointed to a spot on his right side, just below the armpit. “The bullet passed through the . . . Can I use medical terms?”
Pierce smiled in sympathy. “Best not.”
“Well, then, through the body and exited a bit lower on the other side. Both lungs were involved. Peterson was drowning in his own blood.”
“And the third man?”
“Yes . . . Larry Cane . . . he was shot in the heart and died instantly.”
“And you treated these men under fire?”
“No. The firing had stopped almost as soon as it had begun, and I was in no danger,” said Brandt modestly.
“What happened after the firing stopped?”
“The platoon directed a few more rounds of fire at the hospital. There were no glass windows. Only screens and louver shutters, and I recall these being shot up. As I said, I still didn’t think the five or six rounds that hit the three men came from there. Finally, Lieutenant Tyson gave a cease-fire.”
“Then what happened?”
“Then Lieutenant Tyson ordered four or five men to maneuver toward the hospital. They did and got right to the front door without anyone firing at them. I should point out that, as we approached the hospital, there were white sheets hanging from three or four of the windows, which I took to be a sign of peace or a signal that the hospital was neutral. Also, as I said, there was the Red Cross flag flying on a staff from the front of the building.”
“And there was no resistance from anyone inside the hospital?”
“None at all.”
Tyson listened as Pierce backed up a bit, then took everyone to the threshold of the hospital again, then back again to the square in front of the hospital, then forward over the threshold into the front lobby. Pierce was pushing buttons on his tape recorder, forward, back, forward, and Brandt was responding like an audio tape. Corva objected now and then, but even Tyson could tell he didn’t object to all he could have. He was giving Pierce a lot of leeway, and Pierce was growing a little cockier, letting Brandt make statements that Brandt would have a rough time explaining on the cross-examination.
Finally Pierce got the platoon up the stairs of the hospital to the second floor where the main drama would unfold.
Pierce asked Brandt, “How would you describe your reception inside the hospital?”
“Well, it was rather cool. We had just fired a few hundred rounds at the place, and if my guess is correct about the sniper not even being in or on the building, I can certainly see why they were less than enthusiastic to see us.”
“Was anyone openly hostile?”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that. The men of the platoon were not very friendly visitors, either. I don’t entirely blame them, though. It w
as this solitary sniper who caused what one might characterize as a misunderstanding, a feeling of distrust and hostility. It was not the happy arrival that the platoon had been expecting.”
Pierce looked pointedly at his watch.
Colonel Sproule did likewise, and Tyson thought they looked like they were doing a pre-attack watch synchronization. Colonel Sproule said, “Colonel Pierce, if you have no objections, I’d like to adjourn this court until eighteen hundred hours.”
“I have no objections to a night session, your honor.”
Sproule looked at Corva. “Does the defense have any objections to a night session?”
“No, your honor.”
“Then the court is adjourned until eighteen hundred hours.”
* * *
Tyson and Corva again went to the BOQ. Some of Brandt’s morning testimony had been transcribed and was waiting for Corva, who took it from an MP at the door.
Corva and Tyson entered the apartment, and Corva took a bottle of premixed martinis from the bar refrigerator. He sat at the dining room table and began looking through the transcripts.
Tyson had a martini and a cigarette. He said, “Where’s dinner?”
“I’m not hungry,” said Corva.
“What if I am?”
“Eat your olive.”
“There is no olive.”
Corva shrugged as he read and drank.
Tyson said, “How is the prosecution doing?”
“Not bad.”
“How is the defense doing?”
“Too early to say.”
Tyson paced around the living room. “You’re not objecting to some of Pierce’s leading questions.”
“Why should I object to them? They’re interesting. Look, Brandt is Pierce’s witness. A prosecutor leading his own witness is just a shortcut to getting to what Brandt is going to say anyway. Let them dance.”
Tyson shrugged.
Corva said, “I’m going to ask you about some of these statements that Brandt made, and you’ll give me short and succinct answers that I can use on the cross-examination, which will probably be tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
Corva said, “I hope our witnesses are as articulate and orderly in their answers.”
“I hope you are as articulate and orderly in your questions.”
Corva looked at Tyson. “I wish all our witnesses weren’t going to tell about a room-to-room battle in the same location and at the same time as Brandt and Farley told about a wanton massacre. It might confuse the jury.”
* * *
The court reconvened at 6 P.M., and Pierce pronounced, “All the parties to the trial who were present when the court adjourned are again present in the court.”
Which, Tyson thought, was true. And if anyone took attendance in the pews, he could probably announce the same thing. The Army had an obsession with “all present or accounted for.”
Pierce reminded Brandt that he was still under oath, but Tyson didn’t think that was going to do any more good this time than it did last time.
Pierce began with warm-up questions, then questions of recapitulation, then moved again to the front doors of Miséricorde Hospital. Pierce and Brandt by this time had developed that sense of timing and mutual understanding of speech patterns that characterized long question-and-answer periods. But Brandt did not once anticipate a question, and though the examination was smooth, it did not appear rehearsed.
Pierce had finally gotten to the second floor of the hospital, and there was a palpable sense of expectation in the court, as Pierce asked, “What did you see when you entered this room?”
“I saw immediately that it was an operating room. From what I could see, I didn’t think the hospital was ever meant to fulfill the function of a general hospital. It seemed more a sanitorium than a hospital. My guess was that it was built by the French as a country rest home or convalescent hospital.”
Pierce seemed infinitely patient as Steven Brandt gave his professional opinion of the architecture, layout, and setting of the place. Tyson thought that if Steven Brandt had been a crippled, unemployed veteran instead of a medical doctor, neither Pierce nor anyone else would have had much patience for this. Brandt got down to specifics. “The operating room consisted of seven operating tables in an open space about thirty by forty feet. The walls were whitewashed stucco, as was the beamed ceiling. The windows were screened but not glazed as I said, and the floor was red terra-cotta tile. It was stark. There was electricity in the hospital, probably provided by a generator, and the operating room was lit by hanging incandescent fixtures. It was under these fixtures that the operating tables had been placed. Ceiling fans moved the air around, but the room stank of putrefying flesh and open body cavities. There were flies everywhere. I saw in an adjoining room a sink and toilet, and I assumed the water source was a collecting cistern on the roof. Hot water was boiled on a charcoal stove, also located in this adjoining room. The conditions were primitive, to say the least, and not very sanitary. My feelings for the men and women who were going about their jobs there was one of admiration.”
Pierce nodded in complete accord, though Tyson suspected he hadn’t listened to a word of it.
Pierce asked, “Who entered the operating room with you?”
“I can’t recall everyone who was there, but I know I entered with Lieutenant Tyson, his radio operator, Kelly, Richard Farley, and I believe two more men. Farley was assisting Moody, who’d been hit in the leg. The other two men were carrying Peterson, who was semiconscious and crying out.”
“How many other people were in the room, and who were they?”
“There were about twenty hospital staff there. It was quite a mixture. All the doctors seemed to be Caucasian males. There were Oriental orderlies of both sexes. There were female nurses of both races—that is, Caucasian and Oriental. Most of the nurses wore white cotton dresses that I thought resembled nuns’ habits. They wore crosses around their necks. There were religious adornments throughout the hospital, and I made the assumption it was a Catholic facility.”
Corva leaned toward Tyson. “I’ve seen courts-martial run until midnight.”
Tyson said, “Brandt seems fresh. He’s enjoying himself.”
Corva observed, “Pierce is in fine form, too. I think he’d like to finish up with Brandt tonight, while they’re both on a roll. Sometimes you get a witness back the next day and the magic is gone.”
Pierce asked Brandt, “Did any of the staff in the operating room formally greet you?”
“No. But Lieutenant Tyson said something to the doctor who was closest to the door. The doctor was working on a patient with a badly mangled leg. Lieutenant Tyson walked over to the operating table—it was the closest one—and began talking to this doctor.”
“In what language?”
“English, at first. But the doctor was intent on his patient. He said a few words to the nurse in what sounded like French, then Lieutenant Tyson switched to French.”
“Do you speak French, Doctor?”
“No. But I’d heard enough of it over there by this time to recognize it.”
“Were Lieutenant Tyson and the doctor speaking amicably?”
“Not at all. I could tell from the beginning that they were having strong words.”
“About what?”
“I suppose about Lieutenant Tyson’s insistence that someone do something for Peterson. Actually, Lieutenant Tyson did make several asides to me and Kelly in English, so I knew what was going on.”
Pierce continued his questions, and the responses provided more detail than Picard had done in his book and Farley had given in his testimony. After fifteen minutes of examination concerning a segment of the incident that probably lasted one minute, Pierce asked, “What was your opinion—your opinion at the time—not in retrospect, but at the time—of Peterson’s condition?”
“I told Lieutenant Tyson my opinion several times. Peterson’s wound was mortal. Only a thoracic surgeon in a well-equipped hospita
l room could have saved him. I saw a similar wound at a place called Phu Lai. I told Lieutenant Tyson that if Peterson had any chance at all, it was to get him on a medevac chopper. But he hadn’t called one.”
“Did he give you any reason for not calling one?”
“No, except that he was obsessed with the idea that if he were in a hospital, he should be able to get aid for his man. I explained that the hospital didn’t look like it was equipped for what would have been open chest surgery. I think that was what this doctor was trying to tell him, too.” Brandt paused and said, “Actually, I told him to forget Peterson. The man’s blood pressure was dropping, and his breathing was very shallow. It was a difficult thing to say, but the man was as good as dead.”
“How did Lieutenant Tyson react to what you were telling him?”
“Not very well. He was very agitated, and I had the impression he was more interested in imposing his will on that doctor and the staff of that hospital than he was in helping Arthur Peterson.”
Tyson stood suddenly, sensing his chair falling backward. All noise including the court reporter’s stenotype stopped. No one said anything for a second or two as Tyson stared at Brandt, his hands visibly shaking.
Corva looked at him but made no movement to get him in his seat.
Colonel Sproule said to Tyson, “Will the accused please be seated?” Before Tyson could comply or not comply Sproule said hastily, “The court will recess for fifteen minutes.”
* * *
Tyson and Corva walked in silence to Rabbi Weitz’s office. Corva closed the office door and said, “You scared the shit out of old Sproule.”
Tyson didn’t reply.
Corva added, “Brandt went a little white, too.” Corva went on, “And the board will have no trouble believing that you belted the French doctor.”
Word of Honor Page 62