Army Blue

by Lucian K. Truscott

  “Here is a stream and knoll similar to the ones on 22-Lima.”

  “Read the coordinates for us, please sir.”

  “7254886 ... 8 or 9. Could be either.”

  “Coordinates 72548869 could be an accurate reading?”

  “Yes, it could.”

  “What were the grid coordinates of the weapons platoon ambush patrol?”

  “I don't recall.”

  “I will read them to you from Captain Gardner's testimony, if you'd like. He kept the coordinates written down in a notebook. Would you accept his recollection, based on the notebook he kept on October 13?”

  “Yes.”

  “Captain Gardner said the coordinates were—and here I am reading from his testimony—quote, 72548869, unquote.”

  Halleck glanced at Dupuy and at the judge. Then he looked back at Morriss.

  “Did not Lieutenant Blue tell you on the night of October 13 that your fire mission would place fire from his own mortars on his ambush patrol, Colonel?”

  “He may have. I don't recall exactly.”

  “You don't recall exactly. Is it not true that the fire mission coordinates you gave him, 72541118 on map 22-Lima, denote the same physical location on the ground as that found at coordinates 72548869 on map 24-Lima? Sir.”

  Halleck looked at Morriss for what seemed like a very long time.

  “Yes.” He grunted the word as though it had been torn from his throat with a pair of Vise-Grips.

  “Did you or did you not proceed to call in 155-millimeter howitzer fire on grid coordinates 72541118 on map 22-Lima which are also coordinates 72548869 on map 24-Lima, the weapons platoon ambush patrol's location?”

  Again a wait.

  “Yes.”

  “Who gave you the order to call in the one-five-five fire?”

  “Colonel Testor, the brigade commander, gave that order.”

  “Colonel Testor gave the order. Does Colonel Testor usually direct you to call in fire from the one-five-five battery, Lieutenant Colonel Halleck?”

  “I believe that was the first time.”

  “The first time. And how many one-five-five rounds were put on that location?”

  “Eight.”

  “Do you know why no one was killed by your 155-millimeter howitzer fire, Colonel?”

  “No.”

  “Well, stick around, sir, and you'll find out. No further questions.”

  “Prosecution redirect? Or recross?” The judge looked at Dupuy, who was looking at Halleck.

  “Not at this time, Your Honor.”

  “The defense recalls Captain Henry G. Gardner to the stand.”

  Captain Gardner entered the court through the rear door and stood in front of the witness chair. Dupuy reminded him he was under oath.

  “Captain Gardner, were you present when Lieutenant Colonel Halleck received his orders from Colonel Testor, the brigade commander, to call in one-five-five howitzer fire from Division Artillery?”

  “Yes, sir. I was present.”

  “You heard the radio transmission from Colonel Testor?”

  “Yes, sir. I heard it.”

  “You heard him call for one-five-five fire, and you heard him call in this 155-millimeter howitzer fire on the same grid coordinates that Lieutenant Blue had just refused to train his mortars on. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And what did you do, Captain?”

  “Sir, I left the command bunker and returned to my company and got on the radio and called Lieutenant Blue and told him that Lieutenant Colonel Halleck had called in one-five-fives on his ambush position and I told Lieutenant Blue to move his men.”

  “Did Lieutenant Blue move his men from their ambush patrol location?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “How do you know he did?”

  “Because he radioed me and told me he had moved down the creek. The one-five-fives hit right, where they had been.”

  “So the one-five-fives missed the ambush patrol because you had warned Lieutenant Blue they were coming and he moved the patrol.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Did Lieutenant Colonel Halleck tell you to warn Lieutenant Blue?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Did Colonel Testor?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Did either man know you warned Lieutenant Blue to move his patrol?”

  “No, sir. I never told either of them.”

  “So, as far as both commanders were concerned, things were just the way they were moments before, when Lieutenant Blue refused his order to fire his mortars because the fire mission would have hit his ambush patrol?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Thank you, Captain Gardner. Your witness.”

  “Captain Gardner, did you personally see where the one-five-five rounds hit?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then all you've got to go on with this testimony is the word of Lieutenant Blue?”

  “I guess so, sir.”

  “That is what I figured. No further questions.”

  “The witness is dismissed,” said Colonel Kelly. “Call your next witness, Captain Morriss.”

  “Defense calls Colonel James Franklin Testor, Your Honor.”

  Morriss was proceeding without hesitation, seemingly without caution. He was not building his case brick by brick, the way they taught you at Harvard Law. He was hammering it together wall by wall, throwing up a stockade around the prosecution's errant charges. He was doing what he had said he'd do. First he'd attacked the facts of the case; now he was going after the reason the charges had been brought. Within an hour or two, if things went right, he would have corralled the prosecution and squeezed it dry. Every eye in the place was on the back door, waiting for the next piece of wall Morriss would raise.

  Testor walked in like a football coach on his way to the locker room to lecture the team at halftime. Unaware of Halleck's testimony and Repatch's colorful memories, Testor was ready to do battle for the forces of right and might and justice and honor.

  Dupuy reminded Colonel Testor that he was sworn, and Morriss extracted his particulars. Then the potbellied defense attorney reached into his briefcase and pulled out a sheaf of carbons. He approached the judge and laid them on the table.

  “Defense would like to mark these carbons as exhibit C, Your Honor.”

  “Without objection, so ordered.”

  Dupuy looked confused.

  The Lieutenant looked back at his father and grandfather. His father had allowed himself the beginnings of a minor smile. The General's scowl was, if anything, more grim than the day before.

  “Colonel Testor, are you familiar with this report?”

  Morriss handed the sheaf of carbons to Testor.

  “I am.”

  “Can you tell us what it is?”

  “I cannot.”

  “Why, Colonel?”

  “Because this report is classified.”

  Morriss reached for the carbons and Testor handed them over. He looked at each page, turning it over slowly, making a show of the process.

  “Colonel, I cannot find a classification on this report. Did you see one? Where did you see it?”

  “The classification is not there because that is a copy.”

  “Colonel, because there is no classification stamped on this report, nothing that certifies it Top Secret or ‘Eyes Only,’ I am going to ask the question again. What does this report say?”

  “I cannot answer. The report is classified.”

  “Your Honor, I want the witness directed to answer.” Morriss walked over to the judge's table and laid the report in front of him.

  “Will both counsels please approach the bench?”

  Dupuy joined them.

  “Where did you get this?” the judge asked.

  “Your Honor, I got it from Lieutenant Blue's track. It is a copy of an after-action report he wrote, a report of casualty due to friendly fire.”

  “Your Honor, I fail to see the relevance of this repor
t.”

  “Your Honor, I will show relevance of the report. We have already received new testimony that Colonel Testor ordered Lieutenant Colonel Halleck to call for one-five-five fire. The relevance of this witness and of this exhibit goes to the issue of the reason charges were brought against Lieutenant Blue, Your Honor. This is an essential element of my case.”

  “Sit down,” said the judge. He quickly read the report.

  “I'll allow the exhibit, and I'll allow the questions of the witness and I'll direct the witness to answer.”

  “Colonel Testor, do you want me to repeat my question?”

  “No.”

  “Then answer the question, please, sir.”

  “The report is a report of casualty due to friendly fire written by Lieutenant Blue dated October 13.”

  “What does it say, sir?”

  “You know what it says.”

  “Do you want to read it into the record, or should I, sir?”

  “You do it.”

  Morriss read the Lieutenant's report about the death of Strosher into the record. When he was finished, he looked up at Colonel Testor.

  “Did you classify this report, sir?”

  “I did.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I did not want it getting into the wrong hands.”

  “Hands such as mine?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Did you have a conversation with Lieutenant Blue about this report?”

  “I did.”

  “Was anyone else present?”

  “Lieutenant Colonel Halleck.”

  “What was the nature of the conversation and where did it take place, sir?”

  “It took place on the afternoon of October 13 in Lieutenant Colonel Halleck's command bunker. I told Lieutenant Blue to change his report or withdraw it.”

  “Why was that, sir?”

  “Because I did not believe it.”

  “Is it your job to pass judgment on such a report, or is it your job to examine the report and pass it up the chain of command to your superiors, as required by Army regulations?”

  “Both.”

  “We already know your judgment of the report. Did you pass the report on to Major General Cardozo?”

  “No.”

  “Why not, sir?”

  “Because the report was false.”

  “Do you have any evidence as to the falsehood of Lieutenant Blue's after-action report describing the circumstances of the death of Corporal Lester G. Strosher?”

  “No.”

  “Were you on patrol with him when they came upon the DC-3 being loaded with burlap bales in the middle of the night in the middle of the jungle?”

  “Judge, he's being insubordinate,” said Colonel Testor.

  “Answer the question, sir. You may consider the questions of the defense as insubordinate, but I assure you he is only doing his job.”

  “I wasn't in the damn jungle with him, no.” Testor was red-faced, seething.

  “Did you see the body of Corporal Strosher?”

  “No.”

  “But you heard about his death, did you not? His death was reported to you through channels other than this report.”

  “Yes.”

  “You do not believe Lieutenant Blue's report, but you believe Corporal Strosher to be dead?”

  “That is correct.”

  “How did Corporal Strosher die?”

  “I think he got shot by some VC, and Lieutenant Blue was scared he would get in trouble for losing a man to a lesser force than his own, and he made the whole thing up. That's what I think.”

  “Do you have any evidence to that effect, Colonel Testor, or is that a guess?”

  Testor stared at Morriss for a long moment.

  “It is my opinion.”

  “Absent evidence to the contrary, what does the Army say you are to do with such a report of casualty due to friendly fire?”

  “Send it up.”

  “But you did not send it up.”

  “No, I did not.”

  “Did you discuss the report with Major General Cardozo?”

  “No.”

  “Oh. You didn't discuss it with General Cardozo. Why not, Colonel?”

  “Because the report was and is a crock.”

  “So General Cardozo never got the report.”

  Testor looked momentarily confused, then he brightened.

  “No. He didn't. I told him I had a false report, and he told me to classify the report and hang on to it.”

  “Was that the normal manner in which you handled such a report in your brigade?”

  “Yes.”

  “Thank you, Colonel. No further questions.”

  Morriss sat down.

  “Cross-examine, Captain Dupuy?”

  Dupuy stood up.

  “Colonel Testor, in all your long years in the Army, did you ever see anything as fantastic as Lieutenant Blue's report of casualty due to friendly fire?”

  “No.”

  “Did you ever know an American soldier to carry a Kalashnikov rifle like the one Corporal Strosher was shot with?”

  “No.”

  “So you had good reason to doubt the validity of this report, sir?”

  “Yes.”

  “That is all, sir.”

  “Redirect?” asked the judge.

  Morriss stood up.

  “In all your years in the Army, sir, were you ever in Laos?”

  “No.”

  “Are you familiar with either of the maps on the board in front of you, sir?”

  “I am familiar with the one on the left, map 22-Lima.”

  “And what does the map show, sir?”

  “It shows the area of operations of Operation Iron Fist One, which I had the privilege to command.”

  “And what area does the map describe, sir?”

  “An area of enemy-held territory to the west of Dak Sut, Vietnam.”

  “That wouldn't be Laos to the west of Dak Sut, would it Colonel?”

  “Not to my knowledge. Iron Fist One skirted the border with Laos, but we did not cross into neutral territory.”

  “You are sure of this?”

  “I am certain.”

  “That is all I have, Your Honor.”

  “The witness is excused,” said Colonel Kelly. “Do you have another witness, Captain Morriss?”

  “I have several witnesses, Your Honor, but I will be exceedingly brief with each of them.”

  “Will you be finished with your witnesses by fifteen hundred hours?”

  “I hope to be, Your Honor.”

  “Call your next witness.”

  “The defense recalls Specialist Fish, Your Honor.”

  “Call Spec-4 Fish,” said the judge.

  Repatch came through the back door and took the witness chair.

  “Specialist Fish, you are reminded that you are still under oath,” Morriss said.

  “Yes, sir,” said Repatch.

  “Specialist, I would like to question you now about the events of the night of October 12, 1969. Did you go out on the ambush patrol led by Lieutenant Blue that night?”

  “Yes, sir. I walked point, sir.”

  “So you were present when the patrol came upon the DC-3 being loaded with burlap bales in the clearing that night?”

  “Yes, sir. I was the first one who seen it.”

  “And you were there when Strosher was killed?”

  “Yes, sir. I was right there. I seen the whole thing.”

  “The man who killed Strosher, was he an American?”

  “Yes, sir, I had a look at ‘im through the Eltee's glasses, and he sure wasn't no VC.”

  “Lieutenant Blue's after-action report states that the airplane was being loaded with burlap bales. Did you get a good look at what they were loading on the plane, Specialist?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you know what was in those burlap bales, Specialist?”

  “They was loadin’ smack on that plane.”

&nbs
p; “Smack?”

  “Heroin, sir. I seen them bales a’ opium and heroin before, and that's what they was, sir.”

  “Where did you see the bales before, Specialist?”

  “In a opium den over near the zoo, sir.”

  “Do you know of any other evidence that the airplane was being loaded with drugs?”

  “Yes, sir.” Repatch sat forward in the witness chair and reached behind him and pulled a pint bottle from his hip pocket. He handed the bottle to Captain Morriss.

  “Bottle's fulla smack, sir. I sneaked back to that clearin’ and filled it up with the smack that spilled out when Moonface hit one a’ them bales with his ‘60.”

  Morriss took the bottle to the judge's table.

  “Sir, the defense would like to mark this bottle defense exhibit D.”

  "Objection!” Dupuy was on his feet, waving his hand over his head. “There has been no evidence supplied by the defense that the contents of that bottle actually came from where the witness says it came from.”

  The judge turned to Captain Morriss.

  “Captain?”

  “May I ask a few more questions of the witness before you rule on the prosecution motion, Your Honor?”

  “A very few, Captain Morriss. This is highly irregular.”

  “Why did you return to the clearing and fill this bottle with the heroin that spilled from one of the burlap bales, Specialist?”

  “I done it for the Eltee, sir. I knowed he was gonna get in some bad trouble, ‘cause a’ Strosher getting it and all. I snuck back and got that smack so's he could prove what happened is what happened. Who's gonna believe you, sir, when you say you seen a plane gettin’ loaded fulla smack in the middle of the night in Laos, sir?”

  “You are sure the clearing you came upon was in Laos?”

  “Yes, sir.” Repatch stood up and walked over to map 24-Lima and pointed to a spot on the map.

  “It was right there, sir, and that ain't Vietnam, sir, that's Laos.”

  “Captain Morriss, do you have any further testimony regarding this evidence?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then I'm compelled to rule the evidence inadmissible.”

  The judge struck his gavel, and Morriss shrugged his shoulders. Dupuy was grinning.

  “Your witness,” said Morriss.

  Dupuy stood behind the prosecution table and questioned Re-patch in a bored, you-don't-say voice.