Word of Honor (85 page)

"But what?"

At four-thirty, Corva snapped his briefcase shut and took his trench coat from the coat tree.

Neither Tyson nor Corva heard the footsteps this time, but they heard the gentle knock on the door, as gentle, Tyson thought, as the footsteps must have been, and he knew they hadn't come to excuse him for the day.

The door opened, and Sergeant Larson stood a moment without speaking; a moment too long for Corva, who snapped, "Well? Are we excused?"

"No, sir. The board has reached a verdict."

Corva nodded stiffly. "Thank you." He rehung his coat and said to Tyson in a strained voice, "Let's hear what they have to say."

Tyson walked toward the door being held open by Sergeant Larson. Larson said to Tyson, "Sir, you should take your cover. "

"What ... ?" Tyson stood motionless for a moment, then said, "Yes, of course. I won't be coming back here either way, will P-

"No, sir. "

"Thank the rabbi for us, if you should see him."

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"Yes, Sir."

Corva led the way into the corridor. Again, Larson caught up and walked ahead. He seemed to sense that his charges were in no hurry, and his pace was not fast. They entered the courtroom, and Tyson heard a hush fall over the crowd in the pews. He looked and saw that the chapel was completely full, like Easter Sunday, with people in the aisles and in the vestibule.

He strode purposefully past the table where the board was already assembled, past the prosecution table without looking at Pierce, Weinroth, or Longo, and took his place beside Corva at the defense table.

Corva had remained standing, so Tyson did the same. He noticed, too, that the prosecution was now standing, though this was not required.

Tyson brought himself to look at the right front pew. Marcy was dressed conservatively in a tweed business suit. She crossed her legs, smiling at him encouragingly. David, seated next to her, looked sad, he thought, though perhaps scared was a better word. He wondered what was going on inside the mind of a sixteen-year-old. Tyson's three sisters, all pretty, lively women, were maintaining a show of optimism. His mother, who rarely showed any emotion other than haughtiness, impatience, or annoyance, now looked bewildered and old. Tyson contrived a look of unconcern and faced the board. He tried to read their expressions, but there was less there to read than there had ever been. The only flicker of emotion came from Major Virginia Sindel, who inadvertently made eye contact with him, then dropped her eyes.

Tyson realized Corva was speaking to him. Corva whispered, "There is a quirk in the wording of the Manual for Courts-Martial. Verdicts of not guilty are announced with the words, 'It is my duty to advise you . . .'

Guilty verdicts with the uords 'inform you.' I wanted you to know that so you could prepare yourself before you hear the actual verdict. "

Tyson kept his head and eyes straight ahead and said, "Thank you. 19

Not more than a moment later, Colonel Sproule turned on his microphone and announced, "The court will come to order." Sproule looked out at the pews, then regarded

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the press section a moment, then looked at the prosecution and finally the board. He said, "All parties to the trial who were present when the court closed are now present."

Colonel Sproule addressed Colonel Moore, asking, "Has the court reached the findings in this case?"

Moore stood and replied, "It has."

Sproule then asked, "Are the findings reflected on the finding worksheets you were given?"

"They are," replied Moore.

Sproule looked at the prosecution table. "Will the trial counsel, without examining it, bring me the findings?"

Major Judith Weinroth stood and went directly to Colonel Moore, who handed her the findings. She made a show of not looking at the long sheets of paper and walked the five paces to the pulpit, handing the two pages up to Colonel Sproule. She waited in front of the pulpit facing it.

Colonel Sproule adjusted the pulpit light and examined the sheets of paper closely, turning them both over several times. Tyson, Corva, and everyone in the chapel, including the court reporter, had their eyes on Sproule's face to see any trace of emotion. But Colonel Sproule's face revealed nothing but concentration on the forms before him, and Tyson thought he had the look of a man grading a school essay on a dull subject.

Colonel Sproule looked up abruptly and said to Moore, "I find no defects of form." He handed the two pages down to Major Weinroth and said, "Will you return this to the president of the court?"

She took the papers, but they somehow got loose from her grasp, and they fell to the red-carpeted floor. She knelt hastily to retrieve them and lingered perhaps a half second too long in gathering them before she rose. Her face was flushed as she strode across the floor and handed the papers back to Colonel Moore, who gave her a sympathetic look. Major Weinroth turned and walked back to the prosecution table, carrying herself the way someone does who knows there is a room full of people looking at them. As she approached the table, her face still toward the spectators, she made eye contact with Pierce, and her head bobbed slightly, but no one could say for sure if it was in apology for the dropped forms or in triumph.

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Colonel Sproule turned and looked at Tyson. He said, "Lieutenant Benjamin Tyson, please report to the president of the court."

Tyson replied in a strong voice, "Yes, Sir."

Corva reached out and, in full view of the court and the spectators, squeezed Tyson's hand.

Tyson came around the table and walked across the red carpet, centering himself directly in front of Colonel Moore. Tyson saluted but maintained the protocol that this was one of the few occasions when no verbal report was made.

Colonel Moore and Benjamin Tyson faced one another. The remainder of the board stayed seated. Corva had remained standing, though it wasn't required that he do so. The prosecution was standing also, and they blocked the view of some of the spectators sitting on the left side of the nave. The media stood, perhaps to get a better view, and the people behind them began standing, perhaps because the press was blocking them.

Then others began standing, even those whose view was not obstructed, and within a few seconds the entire chapel full of people was on its feet, standing and waiting.

Colonel Sproule began to say something into his microphone, then hesitated and turned to Colonel Moore. "Proceed with the verdict."

Out of the comers of his eyes, Tyson saw that the board was staring straight ahead, resisting their natural desire to look at him. Moore, without referring to the findings sheet and looking Tyson directly in the eye, spoke to him as though they were the only two people in the room.

"Lieutenant Benjamin Tyson, it is my duty as president of this court to inform you-"

There were audible reactions from a few of the people in the pews who understood what the wording signified.

"---that the court, in closed session and upon secret ballot, two-thirds of the members present at the time the vote was taken concurring in each finding, finds you, of the charge of murder, guilty."

Tyson stood perfectly still, showing Colonel Moore and the board no more emotion than they'd shown him all week.

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Someone in the pews shouted something, and a woman sobbed, though he didn't think it was Marcy or his mother, neither of whom was prone to sobbing.

Colonel Moore continued, "Of Specification One, guilty, and of Specification Two, guilty; excepting that in both specifications the words 'shooting them,' and the words ,ordering them to be shot,' will be deleted, leaving the words 'causing them to be shot. ' " Colonel Moore looked at Tyson and gave a brief nod to indicate he was finished.

Tyson saluted, turned, and walked to the defense table, not meeting Corva's or anyone's eyes, not once looking at his wife and son.

Colonel Sproule surveyed the chapel and the altar area where no one was sitting but the five members of the board.' He had the quizzical appearance of a man who had never seen such a thing. He announced into the pulpit microphone, "This court will reconvene Monday at ten hundred hours for the purpose of arriving at an appropriate sentence. This court is adjourned."

But no one moved toward the doors. Instead, everyone stood silently as Sergeant Larson, now armed and wearing a helmet, approached Tyson with another armed MP. The MPs stood self-consciously before the defense table. No one said anything until finally Larson asked politely, "Sir, will you come with me?"

Tyson shook hands with Corva, took his hat from the table, and came around to join the MPs, still not trusting himself to look at his family.

The MPs moved to either side, flanking him, and walked across the altar floor through the side door and down the long white corridor. Tyson noticed that the corridor was deserted and quiet except for the sound of their footsteps.

They came to a door that exited to the back of the chapel grounds, and an MP standing there opened it.

Tyson put on his hat and walked out into the cool twilight. He noticed first the western sky to his front, a deep blue, then toward the horizon a nice orange and yellow beyond the lights of the bridge.

Burly MPs formed a wedge around him and escorted him toward a dark-colored staff car. The chapel and corridor

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had been deathly still, but now a raucous noise assailed him: the shouts of dozens of people, then dozens more as people converged on the rear of the chapel. He saw a television camera. Then there were flashbulbs lighting up the pleasant, comforting dusk. Microphones were pushed toward him, but the MPs pushed back hard. Above the general bedlam he heard a man shouting, "Let him go! Let him go!" A woman had somehow slipped past the phalanx of MPs and reached out to him sobbing, "God bless you, God bless you. " As she reached him, an MP caught her arm and pulled her away.

Tyson found himself at the car, then in it. Sergeant Larson slid in the rear beside him, then the other door opened and another MP slid in to Tyson's left, jamming him in between them. Both doors slammed shut, and Sergeant Larson said, "Please put your hands on the back of the seat in front of you. "

Tyson did as he was told, and Sergeant Larson snapped a pair of handcuffs over his wrists. Tyson was surprised at how heavy they were.

The car began moving slowly over the back lawn, through the milling crowd, the headlights flashing from low beam to high, and the horn honking in a rhythmic cadence. The driver swore.

The MP to Tyson's left said, "I don't have to worry about your all-night runs anymore. Do l?"

Tyson turned his head and found himself looking straight into the beady eyes of Captain Gallagher. Tyson began to say something unpleasant, then realized he was no longer free to say to Captain Gallagher the things that needed saying.

Gallagher seemed to sense this, and realizing, too, that the sport was gone, his face softened. He said, "We were parked there for an hour waiting, but to tell you the truth, Tyson, I didn't want to see you in this car."

"Yes, Sir."

The dark staff car was clear of the crowd and had picked up a two-Jeep escort. They were rolling fast now up Lee Avenue.

Tyson noticed for the first time that the man in the front passenger seat was a civilian. The man turned in his seat

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and said, "We have some taRdng to do before they sentence you, ace."

Tyson looked at Chet Brown. Tyson replied, "I don't think so."

Brown shrugged and turned back toward the front. He said, "We'll see."

Gallagher produced a hip flask and unscrewed the cap. "Let me buy you one."

Tyson said, "Don't need one."

Gallagher, too, shrugged and put the cap back on. He hesitated, then shoved the flask in the side flap pocket of Tyson's tunic. "Keep it."

Tyson realized they were not heading off-post and knew they were not going to Fort Dix.

Gallagher watched him a moment and said, "Just the post lockup. Over the weekend. Until the sentencing Monday. Then.. then.. ."

"Then," said Brown from the front seat, "it depends on the stubborn son -of a bitch where he goes next. "

Tyson ventured a soft "Fuck you," and no one seemed to mind.

The car stopped at the provost marshal's office, and Tyson found himself in a small cell whose walls were made of glazed beige block. Sergeant Larson removed the handcuffs and left, slamming the barred cell door. Brown stood on the other side of the bars as the MPs went into the office to do the paperwork on the prisoner. Brown said, "All we want is an assurance from you-in writing-that you will never speak of any of this ever again for the rest of your natural life. "

"Go fuck yourself."

"Except, of course, for a few well-chosen words now and then regarding the positive side of your experience with the government and with military justice."

"Take a walk."

"In effect, you've lived up to your end of the deal so far without even agreeing to it. You haven't said one word to the media about anything. We appreciate that. And your lawyer has been decent, too." Brown pulled a folded sheaf of papers from his breast pocket. "You read this and you sign it."

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"Shove it, Chet."

"One of the things this says is that you won't bring up questions about your recall to duty or about the fact that the actual perpetrators of the crime are beyond the reach of the law. The government is very sensitive about that."

"I'm a little sensitive too."

Brown leaned closer, his hands on the bars, and his face between them. He kept a close eye on Tyson standing about eight feet away, as though acknowledging that Tyson, though caged, was dangerous. Brown said musingly,

"Did you know, Ben, that of the twenty-five men originally implicated in My Lai, about eighteen never had charges brought against them because they had been discharged by that time? Well, the government has had ample time to plug that loophole but hasn't. And of the men implicated who were still in the service, most were never charged because the local commander didn't bring charges, such as General Peters brought in your case. Of course, Peters needed a little prodding. But the Army likes their system. And of the other men who were charged for My Lai, all were acquitted except Calley. That's what we call the My Lai mess now. And after all these years, the system hasn't changed. The government, the Justice Department, would like to change that system so that the United States is never again embarrassed by an inability to prosecute its servicemen for war crimes.