Diamondhead

by Diamondhead (UK) (retail) (epub)

  It is a remarkable achievement for the navy to keep anything quiet, considering it owns dozens of warships chock-full of knowledgeable, and extremely talkative, sailors. For Levy to be handed a leak as significant as Mack Bedford’s court martial was a fantastic coup. Geoff knew what he had, and he knew he was about twenty-four hours, plus several light years, ahead of the opposition.

  When the Telegraph came out, every major news organization in the United States found itself playing catch-up – which was extremely difficult since the navy would neither confirm nor deny the story. And this put the nation’s newshounds in a quandary, since their only options were, effectively, to believe the truth of the San Diego paper, steal the information and proceed accordingly, or to ignore the story altogether. The latter option was out of the question. But the former was fraught with peril. What if the story was untrue? What if Geoff Levy was wrong? What if no court martial was planned?

  All of the above were troublesome issues, but not nearly as troublesome as missing out on the story altogether. The Fox twenty-four-hour television news channel was quickest into its stride and decided to round up Geoff Levy for an interview, ASAP. Exclusive, please. But the news editor for the Telegraph was too shrewd for that. No exclusives, and a fee of 5,000 dollars, or you can all stop bothering me. Fox paid and put Geoff Levy on a telephone link in the very next slot, with a camera in a private telegraph office.

  What he said confirmed, albeit unknowingly, the master journalist’s craft – bearing in mind he had already scooped the world. “I have been either gathering or preparing stories about the United States Navy in San Diego for a dozen years now. And this story about this court-martial was entrusted to me by a very senior commander. He revealed it to me not because he wished for extra publicity for the navy, because that’s the last thing they want with an issue like this. The officer gave it to me because of the outrage, the feeling of pure indignation felt by fighting men who put their lives on the line and then are told they are, somehow, murderers because they attacked and killed their enemy. In all my years, I have never sensed such outrage in the US Navy, right here in San Diego. That applies especially to the SEALs, who give everything, and say almost nothing.”

  The interviewer was a dazzling blonde in her late twenties who was a lot more likely to become Miss California than News Reporter of the Year. “But, Geoff,” she said, “surely the man had to face a court martial if he just shot innocent civilians. I mean, that is murder, right?”

  Levy sighed the sigh of the truly exasperated. “Ma’am,” he said, “picture the scene, if you will. We’re in hostile desert country; the temperature is 110 degrees. We’re 9,000 miles from home. We got maybe four tanks on fire, we got men, American men, husbands, sons, and lifelong friends, either dead or burning to death. We got the screams and whispers of the dying. We got fear, terror, outrage and shock We got young troops in tears. We got a goddamned horror story right there in front of our eyes. And suddenly an American officer races out of the pack and opens fire on the tribesmen who committed these acts of war. He guns them down, perhaps in rage, perhaps in grief and sadness for his lost brothers. But he hits back, as he’s been trained to do, amidst all the blood and carnage. In the middle of a gruesome and terrible specter the likes of which most of us will never see… he hits back.”

  Levy paused and let his words hit home. And then he said quietly, “And you, ma’am, and others like you, want to charge him with murder? I hope I’ve made myself clear about why there’s outrage on the San Diego Naval Base.”

  Jessica Savold, the blonde interviewer, had not often been lectured like that. And she was almost overwhelmed at the lesson in journalism she had just been handed. Jessica did not live in the real world; she lived in the quasi-fantasy realm of media reporters, guys who knew a few facts, some of which might be true, but had no time or patience for the true depths of the events they related to the public. Jessica understood at that moment why her employers had paid 5,000 dollars to hear the words of a big newspaper editor, a man of vast experience who would be a cut way above the rest. “Thank you, Mr. Levy,” she said, reluctant for another exchange of thoughts, even more reluctant to be made to look more like a child.

  Geoff stood up and nodded. But as he reached the door, he turned once more to Jessica, and he patted the left-hand side of his chest. “Heart,” he said. “Until you learn heart, you’ll never be worth a damn as a reporter or an interviewer.” Luckily for the luckless Jessica, that part was off-camera. And with that he left the room and headed back to the news desk to urge his boys to (a) identify the SEAL officer he believed to be a towering hero and (b) provide him with backup evidence of the inferno of death, hard by the bridge over the Euphrates River. At least that’s how he phrased it. Geoff, after all, was a master of his craft.

  A round of applause from the newsroom greeted him when he returned, delivered by colleagues who had watched the Fox telecast. His deputy said, “Tell you one thing, Geoff. Right now we got emails flooding in, and half of them are saying this SEAL commander should be given the Congressional Medal of Honor, never mind a court martial.”

  “Trouble is,” replied the boss, “I don’t really know what the hell’s going on, except that they are about to court martial him on murder charges and that a lot of guys at the SEAL base are very seriously pissed off. And that’s got to be the thrust of our story tonight – the outrage. Because we’re on the side of the guys who do the fighting, because we’re a very pro-navy operation, not like those comedians in Washington and their lightweight puppet reporters.” Geoff ended his little pep talk with the words, “C’mon, guys, let’s round up some real hard quotes from named sources, people railing against charging our combat troops with serious civilian-type charges. Let’s round ’em up, and then stick it to these assholes, right here in the Telegraph. Right now, while we got national attention.”

  Three thousand miles away, in the White House, the president of the United States was in a major quandary. Yes, he had approved the court martial of Lt. Cdr. Mack Bedford, mainly because of the upcoming Middle East peace talks, and also to head off accusations from Iraq that US troops could do anything they damn well pleased in the land between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. In his own mind, as commander in chief, the president had approved the court martial “for the greater good.” Greater good, that is, unless you happened to be Mack Bedford.

  However, this story in the San Diego Telegraph, and this interview with the goddamned news editor, had painted the entire issue a very different color. The Middle East peace talks could go to hell in the face of a domestic uproar, currently being ignited and fanned and publicly blazing on California’s coast.

  There are only a few true copper-bottomed taboos that all presidents must observe, and one of them is, Don’t Pick Fights with Your Frontline Troops. There are several billion reasons for this, the main one being you will receive zero sympathy from the public, who do not trust any politicians but are apt to worship the ground upon which America’s Special Forces walk.

  The president was, inadvertently, on the dark side of this one, and in his deep, and somewhat cunning, soul, he knew he was not in control. He and his advisers had a tiger by the tail, and it was just a matter of time before that tiger not only roared but started showing very snarly teeth.

  As C-in-C, he could, of course, step in and cancel the court martial. But if that news ever leaked, the liberal press would tear him up. Right now the president found himself working out how to placate the liberals, appease the Iraqis, and save the peace talks – all of which involved a wide and varied group of politicians and media execs. Unlike him, however, none of them was about to be bitten hard in the ass by the US Navy SEAL tiger.

  Rarely had a navy court martial, to be heard behind locked doors on a secure naval base, aroused such consternation in the corridors of power. Whichever way it went, there would be big trouble for many people, aside from Mack Bedford and his family.

  “Jesus Christ,” said the president.
He understood precisely how the San Diego Telegraph had brought the matter right into the public eye with the seemingly simple story that the unnamed officer, who had lurked behind so many headlines, was now to be formally court-martialled. That much was plain. What he did not fully comprehend was why the pendulum had swung the wrong way. For the past month, ever since al-Jazeera revealed the uproar at the bridge, the liberal media had held sway. As far as he and his advisers could tell, the mood in the United States had been one of anger and disappointment at the behavior of the SEAL. But right now things were completely different. The liberal media were, as ever, still angry and disappointed, but the public, and members of the armed forces, were in the opposite corner, angry that a brave and patriotic officer was somehow to face trial, right here in the USA, like a common criminal.

  And now the entire matter was threatening to dominate the domestic news. The Department of the Navy in Washington was under siege from the media. The switchboard at the San Diego base was log-jammed by phone calls from newspapers and television networks. Outside lines to the command bases at both Coronado and Virginia Beach were entirely occupied by journalists. Reporters, photographers, and cameramen camped variously at the gates of SPECWARCOM, on the West Coast and the East. And they were growing more and more irritated at the total lack of cooperation they were receiving from the United States Navy. Up on the fourth floor of the Pentagon, Adm. Mark Bradfield had issued clear instructions that no one in the press office was to utter one word about the forthcoming court martial.

  Within hours, the massed ranks of the US press corps would switch its attack to the White House, specifically requesting whether there was approval from the commander in chief to court martial the SEAL officer. Magnanimously, they informed the White House Press Office they did not much care whether they received an answer from the president, the national security adviser, the secretary of defense, or the chief of naval operations. Any one of them would be fine. But there had to be an answer from someone.

  As it happened, there was no answer from anyone. The days passed acrimoniously until, on a bright California Tuesday morning in late June, the court martial was convened in the sunlit, heavily air-conditioned headquarters of the Navy Trial Service in the heart of the Coronado base.

  Capt. Cale “Boomer” Dunning gathered his panel in an anteroom at the back of the courtroom before the proceedings began. The force judge advocate general, Capt. Paul Birmingham, had a private observation desk to the left of the great curved mahogany table at which the five officers would sit in judgment. Behind the central chair that would be occupied by Captain Dunning were large twin flags of the United States of America, hung at an angle. Between them was placed the imposing emblem of the United States Navy. Four captain’s chairs, carved from mahogany, were set next to Boomer Dunning, two on either side.

  Two navy guards were already on duty at the entrance to the courtroom. Two more were stationed inside, on either side of the door. Before the panel there were two large tables. The one on the left was, appropriately perhaps, for the prosecutor and his assistant. The one on the right was for Cdr. Al Surprenant and Lt. Cdr. Mack Bedford.

  Also sitting in on the trial was the SEAL commander Rear Adm. Andy Carlow, plus the commander in chief of the Pacific Fleet, Adm. Bob Gilchrist. The two regular court stenographers would take down the official record, and witnesses would not be permitted to confer. They would be accompanied into the courtroom, sworn in and then accompanied out without further contact.

  The trial began at 0900. The courtroom was relatively full, for a navy court martial, and four members of the panel were already seated. Commander Surprenant and the accused officer were the last to arrive, before Captain Dunning himself took his place and said immediately, “Please proceed with the case against Lt. Cdr. Mackenzie Bedford.” Capt. Paul Birmingham, who stood six-foot-five, climbed to his feet and stated, “Lt. Cdr. Mackenzie Bedford, of Foxtrot Platoon, SEAL Team 10, is charged that on the twenty-ninth day of May this year, in the Republic of Iraq, he did willfully murder twelve unarmed tribesmen, residents of the town of Abu Hallah—”

  Al Surprenant shoved back his chair, stood up and snapped, “OBJECTION!” – which was just about unprecedented in the history of United States Naval justice, since the full charges had not yet been read, the prosecution had not uttered one word, and the defense counselor was somewhat rudely interrupting the force judge advocate general, one of the senior legal minds in the entire United States Navy.

  Paul Birmingham swiveled around to face Al Surprenant, and Captain Dunning looked quizzical, turning toward Captain Birmingham as if to seek advice. No one knew quite how to treat this sudden violent swerve from the orthodox. But no one needed to. Al Surprenant made himself clear, extremely quickly.

  “Captain Dunning, sir,” he said. “The word ‘unarmed’ cannot be permitted in this charge because no one has the slightest idea whether they were armed or not. No member of the United States armed forces, nor indeed of the diplomatic services, has even seen the bodies. Thus, the word ‘unarmed’ is, at best, hearsay, or, at worst, untrue. Neither are acceptable. I ask the word ‘unarmed’ be deleted from the charge.”

  Captain Dunning turned once more to Paul Birmingham and said, “Advice, please.”

  The force JAG, boxed into a legal trap, replied, “Sir, the matter was referred to the Naval Trial Services, who considered it appropriate for the word ‘unarmed’ to be included, since that is the essence of the accusation by the Iraqis against the US It is not my place to step in and alter the charge, though I do see there is cause for some anxiety.”

  “Captain Birmingham,” said Boomer Dunning. “Am I required to pass judgment on this? And have the charges altered?”

  “You are not required, sir. But it is within your power to rule on it. Alternatively, you could just adjourn and have the matter referred to the legal department in the Pentagon.”

  “I think Lieutenant Commander Bedford has suffered quite sufficient anguish without me prolonging it,” replied the trial president. “We will proceed. Commander Surprenant’s objection is sustained. I rule the word ‘unarmed’ will be struck from the record, on the basis we most certainly do not know whether they were armed or not.

  “Paul, perhaps you will make the changes. Admirals Carlow and Gilchrist should initial their approval. Any problems?”

  Everyone indicated agreement. And three minutes later Captain Birmingham began again: “…did willfully murder twelve tribesmen, residents of the town of Abu Hallah—”

  “OBJECTION!” Al Surprenant was again on his feet. “Sir, no one has any idea whether they were residents of the town of Abu Hallah or not. We don’t even know their correct names. They might have come in by bus or camel or whatever to join the fight against the SEAL platoon. I object most stringently to the word ‘residents,’ which has connotations of stability and responsibility’. For all we know, these were just wandering insurgents, troublemakers, residents of nowhere. Gunmen. And I ask the word be stricken from the charge.”

  “Objection sustained,” said Captain Dunning. “Same procedures. Remove the words ‘residents of the town,’ and substitute ‘near the town.’ Then try again, Paul.” Captain Dunning added, somewhat archly, “If, of course, Mr. Surprenant has no further objections.”

  Resignedly, Captain Birmingham again read out the murder charge. Al Surprenant nodded his assent. The force judge advocate general continued: “Lieutenant Commander Bedford is further charged with reckless conduct in the face of the enemy, and offenses against the Third Geneva Conventions signed in 1949.”

  “OBJECTION!” called Al Surprenant. “The Geneva Conventions were originally drawn up and signed by sixteen nations, and they are designed to specify the conduct of nations at war, particularly in the realm of prisoners and the wounded. Nations have national uniformed armies, and, subsequently, codes of behavior, one to another. The conventions do not include the protection of lawless outcast gangs of tribal killers firing probably illegal missiles
.”

  Commander Surprenant hesitated, turning toward the president, who looked thoughtful and then said, “Please continue. I’m interested in this.”

  “Sir, how can the defendant possibly have offended those codes if they do not apply to this terrorist conflict? You may as well call upon the Geneva Conventions to protect bank robbers or street hooligans. Plainly, the rules are designed to protect only national forces, fighting, formally, on behalf of a nation-state. And I ask that this charge be withdrawn because it does not, and cannot, apply.”

  Captain Dunning said nothing. But he wrote notes on a legal pad. And then he ruled, “Counselor, I understand the prosecutor intends to challenge your opinion on this, on the grounds of human decency, the original objective of Geneva. For the moment I overrule your objection, but only for the moment.”

  “Thank you, sir,” replied Al Surprenant.

  “Very well,” continued the president. “Perhaps Commander Parr would outline, for the benefit of the court, the case for the prosecution?” The Marylander, Harrison Parr, rose to his feet and instantly slipped into political mode. “Sir,” he said, “it gives me no pleasure to prosecute a United States Navy SEAL, a man of exemplary character, surely destined for the very pinnacle of our profession. It is especially difficult for any navy legal counselor to stand right here and attempt to destroy the career of such a man, particularly when his offenses, if offenses they are proved to be, were committed in the very obvious heat of battle. But the judicial traditions of the United States Navy demand such actions, the compulsory process of arriving at the truth. And it was ever thus Gentlemen, the United States stands accused by a friendly foreign power of gunning down its citizens, citizens they claim were not armed, civilians who were in the process of surrendering.