The Final Line (31 page)

O’Brien’s eyes narrowed at Corey, and it was gratifying to know he’d surprised the over-educated POG. “What
was
the nature of the order you issued to Sergeant Nygaard?” he asked tightly.

“I ordered Nygaard to take five Marines and secure the perimeter of the structure. He was to hold that perimeter until I ordered him to collapse it.” Corey deliberately dropped the rank from his answer.

O’Brien looked annoyed. “That’s splitting hairs, Staff Sergeant.”

“No, in fact it is not.” Corey glanced at Hirata who nodded for him to continue. “Securing the perimeter of the structure is a defensive posture, meant to ensure no hostiles are inbound to pose a threat. Combat is engaged only if attacked. Seeking out hostiles is an act of aggression and requires movement to contact. I issued no such order.” If the lawyers were relying on Nygaard to explain the nature of their duties, Corey wasn’t surprised to realize that Nygaard himself wouldn’t know the difference between those two concepts.

O’Brien drew breath and Hirata interrupted. “Asked and answered, Counselor. Move on.”

“Did Sergeant Nygaard successfully execute this order?” asked O’Brien, sighing in frustration.

“He took five Marines and exited the secured structure. Beyond that, I do not know if Nygaard successfully carried out the order.” Corey’s fingers tightened on the arm of his chair.

“And why not, Staff Sergeant? Isn’t it your job to know?” O’Brien’s question was predatory.

“Yes it is. However, I have trauma-induced memory loss. I recall nothing after exiting the structure to go in search of Nygaard.” Corey met the lawyer’s gaze unwaveringly. Hirata had told him the crux of Nygaard’s defense was his PTS, his lawyers couldn’t impeach Corey without nullifying their own defense strategy.

O’Brien rifled through papers until he found one he read from. “Your own after-action report details your actions with regard to Sergeant Nygaard. Did you lie when you filed this report, or are you lying now?”

“Neither one, sir,” Corey said sharply. He stilled his bouncing leg and eased his grip on the arms of his chair.

“That’s argumentative,” Hirata intervened. “Phrase your question in a less provocative manner.”

O’Brien paused for several heartbeats. Then, “Your after-action report states you exited the secure structure, located Sergeant Nygaard, and ordered everyone to return to your Humvees. Is that accurate?”

“I have no memory of those events,” Corey replied. “My report reflects what I believed had happened at the time.” Saying the words left a bitter taste in Corey’s mouth.

“You no longer believe this is what happened?” O’Brien’s brows lifted.

“I have no memory of what happened until my Marines and I rejoined the platoon at the Humvees.” Corey was careful to make his answer precise.

“But do you believe—”

Hirata interrupted again. “The Staff Sergeant has no memory of that period of time. What he may or may not believe is of no relevance.”

O’Brien turned to look at Hirata. “If the Staff Sergeant believes the events differ from his original report—”

Hirata cut him off sharply. “His beliefs of the events are based on what he has been informed of during the course of a Department of Defense investigation and are therefore a matter of national security. Move on, Counselor.”

Corey straightened his spine in response to Captain Hirata’s tone. For a moment, the mild-mannered lawyer was gone. In his place was a commanding Marine Corps officer.

O’Brien looked frustrated, bordering on angry. “When you rejoined the platoon, did you report to Lieutenant Adams?”

“Yes, sir.” Corey took a deep breath and shifted his hands to his lap, trying to ease his growing tension.

“Did the Lieutenant issue you further orders?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And what were those orders?”

Corey had been asked this question so many times, he didn’t have to think about the answer anymore. “To recover the bodies of the dead enemy combatants from the dwelling, document the nature of their wounds, and prepare them for transport back to base.”

He’d barely finished his answer when O’Brien barked his next question. “Did you execute those orders?”

“I delegated those orders to Corporal Tyler Howe,” Corey shot back.

“What did you do while Corporal Howe was doing your job for you?”

Corey very nearly rose to the bait. A subtle hand gesture from Captain Hirata stilled his tongue. “You’ll have to specify which of my many actions you wish to discuss. Sir.”

“Were the bodies Corporal Howe recovered the only ones you were required to deal with that day?” O’Brien spoke slowly, as if to a child.

“No, sir.” Corey fisted his hands in his lap.

The lawyer leaned over the conference table, looking almost predatory. “What were the other bodies that required your attention?”

“The three Marines killed in the initial IED blast,” replied Corey, concentrating on keeping his voice steady, “as well as the five enemy combatants killed when they engaged the platoon from their vehicle.”

“Did you witness that engagement?”

Corey tensed, raising his guard even higher. The answer was well established. “I did not, sir.”

“Then you have only Lieutenant Adams’ word for the fact that the occupants of the vehicle fired first?” O’Brien sat back in his chair but still gave the impression of waiting to pounce.

Sensing a trap, Corey paused to consider how to answer.

Hirata intervened. “The Staff Sergeant has already established he was elsewhere at the time of that engagement and therefore has no firsthand knowledge of events. Move on.”

Corey bit back a relieved sigh.

O’Brien didn’t seem deterred. “What is standard procedure for the transporting of dead combatants back to your base?” His demeanor was deceptively casual.

Corey wasn’t prepared for that question. He started to shift in his chair but caught himself. He had no idea what this line of questioning meant. “We photograph the bodies to verify identity, to document injuries and cause of death. The bodies are placed in body bags and transported back to base to await disposition, or to be claimed by the family.”

“Where are the bodies placed for transport?” O’Brien’s hostility was only thinly veiled .

“Inside the Humvees, or wherever room is available,” answered Corey

“So it is
not
standard procedure for you to strap enemy combatants to the hoods of your Humvees?” O’Brien’s question gave away his strategy.

“Standard procedure? No, sir,” Corey replied. “However, on the rare occasions we do not have sufficient number of body bags, we secure the bodies to the hoods of the Humvees for transport.”

“Rather disrespectful, don’t you think, Staff Sergeant?” O’Brien’s tone bordered on snide.

“Disrespect is not intended.” Corey refused to get defensive. This was a military-wide practice, not his own judgment call.

“Strapping dead bodies to the hoods of your vehicles isn’t intended to be disrespectful?” O’Brien’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “How about intimidating? Threatening?”

Corey wasn’t sure how to respond.

“You’re being argumentative,” Hirata said sharply. “Ask a specific question pertinent to your client’s defense.”

“Did your platoon strap dead bodies to the hoods of your vehicles and drive though the village of Ghazni?” O’Brien asked with thinly veiled hostility.

“Yes, sir,” Corey answered truthfully. When he realized his leg was bouncing again, Corey stopped it.

O’Brien shot forward in his chair. “In an effort to intimidate and threaten the residents of the town.” It wasn’t a question.

Corey straightened his spine. “No, sir.”

“What other reason could you possibly have?” The lawyer was openly confrontational.

“Placing the dead bodies of enemy combatants inside of Humvees with live Marines, without placing them into body bags, is detrimental to the mental health of the Marines.” Corey’s reply was succinct. He tried to keep all emotion out of his voice.

“Staff Sergeant Yarwood,” Hirata interrupted, “if your platoon had had sufficient number of body bags, would all of the bodies have been placed inside the Humvees?”

Relieved, Corey answered quickly. “Yes, sir.”

“Why did the platoon RTB through the town of Ghazni?” the captain continued.

“It was the most secure, most direct route back to base.” Some of Corey’s tension eased as he answered, silently grateful to Hirata for rescuing him.

There was a protracted silence in the room as O’Brien and his partner glanced at one another, shuffled papers and made notes. Corey stared directly at Nygaard, daring him to make eye contact. Nygaard didn’t even look in Corey’s direction. Instead, he stared at the table and shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

“What purpose does it serve to desecrate the dead bodies before transport?” O’Brien asked abruptly.

If he was trying to throw Corey off balance, it failed. The silence had given Corey a chance to regroup, and now he was just baffled by the question. “None that I can name.”

“And the relevance of this question?” Hirata demanded.

O’Brien produced two color photographs that he set on the table in front of Corey. They were graphic and sickening. “Do you recognize the subjects in these photos?”

As Corey looked at them, he could hear the chatter of gunfire and the blast of ordinance. He swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat. “Yes, sir.”

“Well? What do the pictures show, Staff Sergeant?” the lawyer asked.

Corey could barely hear over the sound of his blood rushing in his ears. “The dead bodies of enemy combatants killed during the battle in Ghazni,” Corey answered carefully. His leg started to bounce violently and he clenched both fists once again.

“That’s not all the photos depict, is it?” O’Brien pressed, leaning his arms on the table as if ready to pounce.

“Ask a specific question, Counselor,” Captain Hirata snapped, leaning to the side as if trying to enter O’Brien’s line of sight.

“Whose hand is in those photographs?” O’Brien asked, pushing the offending pictures closer to Corey’s place at the table.

Corey’s stomach turned sour and his heart raced. His mouth flooded with spit and he clenched his jaw, swallowing rapidly to keep the bile down. “Corporal Tyler Howe’s.” His voice was strained and rough. Corey knew O’Brien was misinterpreting his distress.

“What is he holding in his hand in each of the photographs?” The lawyer nudged the pictures even closer to Corey.

“Human brains, sir.” Corey couldn’t even see the graphic images, anymore. He heard gunfire and felt the heat of an incendiary blast.

“I thought Marine Corps policy didn’t include the desecration of enemy bodies.” O’Brien was openly mocking him now.

Corey’s palms were damp and he wiped them unthinkingly on his thighs. The room spun and something deep in the back of his skull buzzed. He struggled to take a deep breath so he could reply to the asshole lawyer.

“Ask a question, Mr. O’Brien,” Hirata snapped. Corey vaguely wondered why the captain’s anger had become real.

“If no disrespect was meant to the dead combatants, why did you and your Marines desecrate these two bodies?” O’Brien tapped his finger against one of the photos, again directing Corey’s attention to the ugly images.

Corey’s vision cleared and his stomach settled. He managed to focus on the photos. He suddenly wanted to put his fist through Nygaard’s face. He wondered which one of them had made the error in judgment to use these specific pictures to try to rattle Corey.

Nygaard had been the one taking the photos that day. Obviously, he’d forwarded some for his personal use, in violation of Corps policy. Hell, he might have used his own fucking cell phone to take these particular pictures.

“There was no desecration committed that day,” Corey replied stiffly, jaw stiff from being clenched for several minutes. He turned to Captain Hirata. “Sir, I’m concerned that official Marine Corps photos found their way into civilian hands.”

“You and me, both, Staff Sergeant,” the captain said dryly, making notes on his pad. “This, too, will be investigated.”

“My source is confidential,” O’Brien said quickly, almost smugly.

“Your source stole official Marine Corps documents, in a breach of national security,” said Hirata without looking up, his choice of words indicating he also believed Nygaard was the guilty party in this. “Confidentiality is moot.”

“So you admit the Marine Corps have committed war crimes and have documented their own actions?” O’Brien’s smile had teeth. Corey wondered if he didn’t realize, or just didn’t care that Hirata seemed to be turning the tables on him.

“No war crimes have been committed,” the captain barked. “Staff Sergeant, why does Corporal Howe have a brain in his hand in each of those photos?”

“Each of those men had taken a two-two-three round to the head, shattering his skull, sir,” answered Corey, forcing his leg to be still. “Howe is documenting that as the cause of death and also showing that all body parts are accounted for, to be returned to the family.”

“So, the very opposite of desecration and war crimes, correct, Staff Sergeant?” Hirata was openly derisive but not directed at Corey.

“Yes, sir,” he replied.

Hirata heaved a heavy sigh. “Is that all?” he asked O’Brien, with exaggerated weariness.

O’Brien collected the photos and the last of the tension in Corey’s body eased.

“No, it’s not,” the lawyer answered irritably. “Staff Sergeant, what orders did Lieutenant Adams give you, regarding events and details to include in your after action report?”

“Okay, we’re done here,” Hirata said abruptly, returning items to his briefcase. “Your line of questioning no longer pertains to the crimes with which your client has been charged. You’re venturing into areas that are matters of national security and are currently under investigation.”

“It’s relevant if Marine Corps officers are covering up wrong doing that caused my client to develop PTSD.” O’Brien’s voice rose in agitation.

“The events as documented are sufficient to justify Staff Sergeant Yarwood’s PTS diagnosis,” Hirata countered. “Your client is at no disadvantage.” He paused. “In point of fact, there is evidence that whatever diagnosis your client has received, his bad attitude and violent behavior pre-date the events of Ghazni.”