“Objection sustained. Request granted. Strike the word.”
“No more questions.”
Once more counsel for the defense rose to his feet. “Lieutenant Commander Bedford,” said Commander Surprenant, “I believe you have been a Navy SEAL for more than ten years and during that time have been decorated for valor twice.”
“Yessir.”
“I also believe there is another decoration awaiting ratification, awarded to you for gallantry under fire in a very serious action in Fallujah?”
“I believe that is correct, sir.”
“Your character record as a Navy SEAL is unblemished. You are regarded among your superiors as an officer destined for the highest rank?”
“I hope so, sir.”
“And now you have been dragged before this court to explain why you happened to mow down an enemy that had just murdered, burned to death, twenty of your men, and may have been planning even more mayhem on that bridge, on that infamous day?”
“Yessir.”
“You believed they might still have been armed. You have dramatic experience in Iraq of false surrenders, which I have no doubt you realize is completely illegal under international rules of war?”
“I certainly do, sir.”
“And so, you attacked your enemy ruthlessly, in order to prevent further casualties to your own men? You were prepared to take no more risks with these people?”
“Correct, sir. No more chances. They’d done enough goddamned damage for one day.”
“Before we close this part of the proceedings, I would like to touch on just one more aspect of the attack, and that was the missile used against the SEAL convoys.”
“Yessir. A highly dangerous missile.”
“It’s what’s known as a tank buster, I understand?”
“Yessir. But this was a kind of supersonic tank buster. Just rips through the fuselage like it was made of cardboard.”
“You were familiar with it before May 29th?”
“Yessir. They get it from Iran, and they’ve hit American vehicles quite a few times. One time they fired it at the Hitmen compound. Didn’t penetrate, but it made a darn big hole in the concrete.”
“Is its penetration force the only thing that sets it apart?”
“Nossir. What really sets it apart is that it burns everyone to death – anyone anywhere near the hit area.”
“Lieutenant Commander, were these the banned Diamondhead missiles, the ones that burned alive the SEALs and Rangers on your mission?”
“Yessir. No doubt in my mind.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant Commander. No more questions.”
Captain Dunning now addressed the defense. “Counselor,” he said, “is there anyone further you wish to call? This hearing is restricted to material witnesses only.”
“Just one more, sir. I call Gunner’s Mate Second Class Jack Thomas, who serves as Mack Bedford’s combat driver, armored vehicle.”
Jack Thomas stood and swore to tell the truth. In reply to Al Surprenant’s first question he said, in his rich Tennessee accent, “Sir, I served with Mack Bedford on three tours, one in Afghanistan, two in Iraq. If there’s a better officer in the United States armed forces, well I ain’t met him yet.”
Al smiled. “And what qualities have you seen in him that allows you to offer such high praise?”
“Sir, on that day at the bridge, it was all I could do to stop him rushing into that fire to save Charlie and Billy-Ray and Frank. They was burnin’ up, on fire in that real blue flame.”
“Did you think this was unusual behavior?”
“Nossir. Mack Bedford would do anything for his men. They’re his prime concern, at all times.”
“Was he a good combat officer?”
“The best. Fantastic marksman, stealthy, and as strong as a lion. The best swimmer on the base. Folks say Mack Bedford was more dangerous unarmed than most guys holding machine guns.”
“You ever seen him in action?”
“Yessir. In the mountains fighting al-Qaeda. Boy! He’s somethin’. And we all look up to him. Because when you fight with Mack, no matter who the enemy is, or how many of ’em, you’ve always got a real shot at comin’ home.”
“Thank you, Jack. No more questions.”
Captain Dunning addressed the courtroom and asked, formally, if either the prosecution or the defense wished to make any further statement. This would not be a full summary of the evidence, just a short summation of the case for both sides.
Harrison Parr declined, on the basis that he was quite certain the court had already made up its mind about the murder charges. Al Surprenant said he would like to make a short statement to the panel. Captain Dunning nodded his assent.
Mack Bedford’s attorney faced the five officers. “Gentlemen,” he said, “we have heard two incontrovertible pieces of evidence. First, the men who crossed the bridge were the same men who fired the missile. The defendant saw them before and after, and no one has dared to suggest he was incorrect. Second, an illegal Iraqi missile had destroyed four US tanks and murdered twenty serving SEALs and Rangers, all burned to death. And all of this, beyond question.
“The subsequent measure of doubt against the surrender was so strong, the SEAL commander opened fire on them because they may well have been pulling one of their regular tricks, pretending to surrender. In his opinion, and in mine, they had done quite sufficient damage for one day.
“I therefore ask the court to find Lt. Cdr. Mackenzie Bedford not guilty on all charges. Thank you for listening to me.”
Captain Dunning stood up and called for a two-hour recess during which time everyone could have lunch. The court would reconvene at 1400 hours, when the verdicts would be announced.
The captain led the way out, followed by his four-man panel. Mack Bedford walked across to Commander Surprenant and offered his hand, stating quite simply, “Thank you, sir. No one could have done more.”
“We’re golden on the murder,” replied Al. “And I’ve crushed the Geneva Conventions. Our only problem is they may have been told to find you guilty of something. Just to placate the media and to protect the Middle East peace talks. I don’t think the navy is that corrupt, but the president is our C-in-C, and if he has nudged Defense, informing them his advisers do not want you exonerated completely, there may be trouble ahead.”
“Well, what have I done wrong?”
“Nothing. But I have to warn you – we are dealing with politicians, right here in the near background. They might just want some small, vague offense to be proven, and that way they can pension you off.”
“Pension me! You mean end my career?”
“Possibly. Honorable discharge with full pensions and rights. But nonetheless dismissed from the navy, perhaps for reckless conduct in the face of the enemy.”
“Jesus Christ – you mean they can throw me out just like that, with no appeal?”
“They can. But I also think no one wants to do that. Everything depends on the pressure that’s been put on the navy by the goddamned politicians. Because to those guys, the life and career of one single naval officer are nothing. They’ll go on about such a small sacrifice, perhaps to help bring peace to the entire Middle East.”
“Guess it’s only a small sacrifice if you’re one of them,” said Mack.
“Yeah. But not if you happen to be Lt. Cdr. Mackenzie Bedford, right?”
* * *
Captain Dunning and the other four panel members gathered in the anteroom behind the court. Sandwiches and mineral water were brought in, and two armed naval guards were on duty outside in the corridor. The atmosphere was very formal, and unaccountably tense. Not a smile passed between them as they silently weighed the evidence that could destroy the career and life of one of the most outstanding SEAL officers on the base.
“Gentlemen,” said Boomer, “I would like to deal first with the critical issue that dominates the murder charges. And that is the question of the surrender. Because plainly if it had just been
a missile and gun battle across the river, then Mack would never have been charged.” Everyone nodded agreement.
“However, we do have a very different set of circumstances here, and we are all well aware of them.” The captain read from his notes, and then from a file of papers in front of him. “The Geneva Conventions,” he said, “permit using deceptions, or ruses, to mislead the enemy. That much is definite whether or not we agree with Commander Surprenant about their relevance to this particular case. I, by the way, do agree with him. Nonetheless, Geneva specifically prohibits some deceptions. And, I quote, ‘Feigning surrender in order to lure the enemy into a trap’ is one of them. Maybe the most important. The gist of this convention is obvious. The ruse is strictly forbidden because it causes soldiers to suspect all surrendering combatants of using this subterfuge. And this can lead to horrifying results, the principal one being that soldiers, as a matter of course, may become unwilling to accept any prisoner, and much prefer to kill him right away.”
Boomer Dunning paused and looked around. Everyone was stern, thoughtful, and willing to be led by the former nuclear submarine commander.
“There are ample examples of Iraqi terrorists feigning surrender. Mack Bedford was correct to be cautious, to take no chances. I find him not guilty on all charges relating to murder… Any dissent?”
Each man said no, as Captain Dunning knew they would. It was impossible not to understand this trial was being run under some kind of code. No navy court martial was going to convict the lieutenant commander of any kind of homicide. Not unless they wanted to risk outright riot conditions in the US armed forces.
As to the issue of the Geneva Conventions, Boomer Dunning said flatly, “Surprenant is plainly right. The accords cannot apply to these murderous mobs with the illegal missiles. And, with your support, I’m going to order any and all charges involving the rules of war to be dismissed. Agreed?”
“Agreed.”
“Which brings us to the final, somewhat minor, issue of reckless conduct in the face of the enemy.” Captain Dunning seemed saddened yet resigned to the wearisome issue of finding the SEAL battle commander guilty of something. The orders had been passed down from the highest authority in the nation. Not to cooperate would be, in effect, to defy the commander in chief, the president of the United States. Boomer Dunning was privately sickened by the entire process. Reckless conduct! Jesus Christ, these fucking madmen had just murdered twenty members of the Special Forces. And he, Boomer, had been charged with the task of finding Lieutenant Commander Bedford guilty of being reckless.
Now he spoke confidentially to his panel. “Look,” he said, “none of us much likes this, being more or less told to find Mack guilty of recklessness, and I would like to ask the views of each one of you.”
All three lieutenant commanders were reluctant to convict but were not sufficiently rebellious to go against the wishes of the president of the panel. The fourth and youngest member, the lieutenant, Jonjo Adams from Alabama, was a SEAL. And he was very concerned. He looked at Boomer and said quietly, “Sir, like all of us, I’d be proud to fight under Mack Bedford’s command. And we can sit here for a thousand years, and I ain’t never going to find him guilty of anything. He did what was right. I was in Baghdad when that bomb went off strapped to one of the surrender guys. A buddy of mine had his head blown off. If I’d been at the bridge with Mack, I’d have shot ’em myself.”
“I understand,” replied Boomer. “And since I feel much the same, I’m going to find him not guilty of reckless conduct. That’s the best I can do. But I will have to issue some kind of a reprimand. That’s the absolute minimum I can do” – he paused for almost ten seconds before blurting out – “in this whole fucking lousy, rotten business.” All four members of the panel saw Boomer Dunning brush his coat sleeve across his eyes and walk to the other side of the room because he could not bear anyone to see him this upset.
They ate their sandwiches almost in silence. The clock ticked away the minutes until 1400 hours, at which time all five of them walked back into the courtroom and took their places. Everyone else was awaiting their arrival.
Captain Dunning made no preamble. He said simply, “Lt. Cdr. Mackenzie Bedford, you have been charged with the murder of twelve Iraqi citizens. The court finds you not guilty. You were charged with several offenses against the Geneva Conventions, and these the court has dismissed out of hand, thanks to the wise counsel of Commander Surprenant. You were further charged with reckless conduct in the face of the enemy. The court finds you not guilty.”
Mack Bedford turned to shake the hand of his attorney. But Captain Dunning was not through.
“The court, however, finds that this was not a textbook military operation. Several SEALs were ready to open fire if a fake surrender was being enacted. And the court detected an element of panic. With this in mind, I have issued against Lieutenant Commander Bedford, a GOMOR, a General Officer Memorandum of Reprimand. The court is now closed.”
Mack Bedford was appalled. He turned to Al Surprenant and almost cried out, “Sir, this ends my career as a SEAL team leader. I’m banned from command, out of the promotion ladder.”
“As I feared,” replied his attorney. “Very much as I feared.”
Chapter 3
My dearest Anne,
Right now the whole world seems to be falling apart. Only the thought of seeing you and Tommy is keeping me going. The Navy has been very decent about my payoffs, my pensions and the extent of our health insurance. Commander Surprenant says it’s “conscience money.”
By the way, one of the guys on the panel which heard the court martial has resigned from the Navy “in disgust.” He’s Brian Antrim, a surface ship missile director and a lt. commander. There’s a lot of unrest over what happened to me, but at least they never released my name.
I guess I mentioned I could have stayed and taken some kind of office job, maybe INTEL or Mission Planning. But I would never have advanced, not with a GOMOR hanging over me. Anyway, I only know combat command, and that’s now denied me.
There’s no place here for an out-of-work Team Leader. So it’s gotta be sayanara SEALs. God knows what will happen to us now. I’ve had a lot of offers of help from some highly placed guys. But I guess right now we need to concentrate on Tommy and getting him fixed up. Tell him to get ready for a lot of fishing with his dad.
All my love and I’ll see you next week,
Mack
He walked over to the mailbox and posted his letter. After all these years, it was the last letter he would ever send from this old, familiar place. Mack was scheduled to leave on Tuesday from the North Air Station on a navy flight to Norfolk, Virginia, then take another navy flight up to the New Brunswick Navy Station in Maine. From there he would take a bus home to Dartford.
Walking back from the mailbox, he passed a couple of young SEALs he had helped to train. Each one saluted him sharply, but it wasn’t the same anymore. There was something in their eyes, something wary, cautious, as if they were offering the ultimate military sign of respect to the wrong man, to some kind of an outcast who really should not be here.
Everyone knew Mack Bedford was finished, though very few knew why. Those who did were inclined to keep their distance in these final days of the brilliant SEAL commander. They were keeping their distance from a man whose heart was surely broken. A man whose private grief and regret really had no place on a naval station where young tigers were being revved up to face the enemy.
Mack Bedford understood. His friends were dead. His acquaintances were reluctant. There was no longer much to say right here in this cauldron of military training. This is a place where joy is measured in battlefield triumph, and where defeat has not a friend in the world. Lieutenant Commander Bedford had become the embodiment of that defeat.
He took his meals alone in his room, mostly because it was too awkward for him to engage in conversation. How many times could he hear other SEALs tell him how sorry they were that this had happened and how much he
would be missed?
What was there to say? Certainly not the gut-wrenching truth that in the blackness of his own despair he had given very serious consideration to blowing his brains out. And that if he had not been married to the spectacularly beautiful Anne, with a little boy who needed him so badly, he probably would have done so. SEALs don’t bare their souls like that. Self-examination does not sit comfortably in their profession. They are trained to ignore personal feelings and needs, and to complete the mission. They are taught to train physically until they are close to the breaking point. And then to kill. Always to capture or kill the enemy on behalf of the United States. Men like that don’t usually spend a lot of time on self-pity.
“Oh, hell, I’ll be all right.”
“Don’t worry about me. I got plenty of options.”
“Maybe a security business, or a partnership in a fishing boat back in Maine. I got all kinds of stuff.”
“Anyway, I’ve probably been in the navy for long enough.”
Long enough? How could it ever be long enough? What would “long enough” be? Maybe a thousand years? Because it would surely be a thousand years before the ethos of the SEALs could ever be driven into the backwaters of his mind.
Mack Bedford could scarcely remember any other life. He knew only the discipline, the unquestioning code of conduct, what was expected of him, and, as he grew into a field commander, what he expected of those young men who fought alongside him.
He had once read, and never forgotten, a book written by John Bertrand, Australia’s victorious America’s Cup helmsman in 1983. The Aussie wrote of racing yacht crews, men fighting against the odds to defeat the Americans in front of a world audience. “You can get them to go a long way for you by frightening them,” he wrote. “But if you want them to go all the way, they’ve got to love you.”
Mack’s men had always loved him. And they were surely going to miss his steadfast words of command, sometimes cautious, sometimes daring, but always sound. They were going to miss the hell out of him. And most of them did not yet realize how much. All they sensed was an inner anxiety. What the hell’s it gonna be like out there, without the boss?
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