Better Times Than These (54 page)

“Yessir, it was about that exactly, because I had just come off guard duty.”

“And you were right at the scene of the alleged incident, I believe you said?”

“Yessir.”

“How did you come to find yourself there?”

“I . . . uh . . . just went down there, after I got off guard duty.”

“You went there for no reason? Wasn’t it nearly thirty yards from your position?”

“Well, sir, like I said, there was this rumor going around . . .”

“That the men were going to rape the girls.”

“Yessir. They said it was a revenge for Sergeant Trunk, who had been killed a couple of weeks before.”

“And you heard it and decided to go on down there yourself—isn’t that correct?”

“I—ah, I heard it, yes. And I just . . . went down there.”

“And you watched while Groutman and Maranto had sexual relations with these two women?”

“Yessir.”

“You watched the entire time?”

“Yessir.”

“And when they were finished, what did you do then? Didn’t you do something with the girls yourself?”

“No, sir—I mean, I just went to look at them.”

“Didn’t you do more than that? Didn’t you touch them? Didn’t you get down there with them?”

“I did not do anything wrong.”

“Isn’t it true that some of your buddies teased you and said you were afraid to do anything with those girls?”

“Yessir, they did that.”

“Suppose you tell us about it.”

Spudhead slouched down in the chair and looked at Captain Fox, but the Judge Advocate nodded to him to answer the question.

“They did tease me. But I did not go down there to do anything wrong. After Groutman had finished with the younger girl he got off of her, and after a minute or two she got up and went over and got into the foxhole. The foxhole gave her a little warmness. There was a bunch of people standing around laughing about something, and they pushed me toward her—in the foxhole—so I got down in it too. She was lying there very quiet and holding herself, and I put my arms around her and put her head on my shoulder. She didn’t cry or anything. She just lay there. I felt sorry for her.”

“How long did you lie there together?”

“I don’t know exactly; maybe ten or fifteen minutes.”

“And that was all you did? You were there in the foxhole in the dark with that girl for ten or fifteen minutes and you simply held her in your arms?”

“Sir, I was very lonely. I miss my girl. I was feeling very bad. I had felt bad for a long time now, but that was all I ever did with her. I swear it to God.”

“I have no more questions,” Gore said brusquely.

Captain Fox introduced into evidence a number of items at this point, including an aerial photograph of the murder site, and some drawings of the scene to scale. His next witness was Private Edward Poats of Weapons Platoon.

“Did you, on the night of February sixth, Private Poats, have occasion to visit the quarters of First Lieutenant Brill?”

“Yessir, I did,” Poats said.

“What was that occasion?”

“It was because of something that was going on down on the perimeter, sir.”

“What was going on there?”

“I believe there was some raping of the girls who had been taken prisoner.”

“How do you know that?”

“At the time I didn’t know it. I had gone down there to see a buddy and talk to him and I heard some sounds from that area.”

“Sounds?”

“They was woman sounds. Like somebody was being injured.”

“And you investigated?”

“I went over there and saw a bunch of guys standing around a foxhole.”

“What time of day was this?”

“It was about twenty-one hundred hours, sir.”

“What were the men doing?”

“They was watching one of the girls being raped.”

“Who was raping her?”

“That, sir, I cannot say, because I did not stand there and watch.”

“But you heard the girl making sounds. Weren’t you close enough to see who was with her?”

“No, sir, it was dark and there was a bunch of men around them.”

“And they were just watching quietly?”

“No, sir, they were laughing and cheering on the man with the girl.”

“What did you do then?”

“I left the area, sir, and I went back up to the mortars.”

“Straight back?”

“Oh, no, sir. I was going to, but I started up and I got to thinking that it wasn’t right, so I stopped into Lieutenant Brill’s tent because I didn’t think he knew what was going on and that he would like to know.”

“You didn’t think
what
was not right?”

“The raping. I mean, they was just little girls . . .”

“So you saw Lieutenant Brill? In his tent?”

“Yessir.”

“What was he doing?”

“He was interrogating the VC prisoner.”

“How was he interrogating him?”

“With a knife.”

“He was cutting him?”

“Yessir.”

“Where did he cut him?”

“It looked to me like in the navel, sir.”

“I see,” Fox said. He stepped back a few feet and paused, glancing at the court members. All were leaning forward on the table, and the eyebrows of Colonel Maitland had furrowed to dark, arborlike arches.

“What did you say to Lieutenant Brill?”

“I told him some people was molesting the girls and that he should go down there.”

“And how did he respond to that?”

“I beg your pardon, sir?”

“What did he say?”

“He said, ah, for me to mind my own business and let Second Platoon take care of themselves.”

“And then you left?”

“I did, sir.”

“Thank you, Private Poats,” Fox said. He sat back down at his table.

Gore stood and backed up as far as he could until he was on the edge of the waist-high partition that separated the dock from the spectator section.

“Private Poats, have you ever molested a Vietnamese female?” he said loudly.

“Objection!” Fox was on his feet looking astonished and angry.

“I’ll rephrase the question,” Gore said. “Have you ever had sexual intercourse with a Vietnamese woman?”

“Objection!” Fox cried. “What possible connection does that question have to this case?”

“Well,
Captain Gore?” Maitland said, the eyebrows raised.

“Sir, it has every connection. This man testified that he saw a rape in progress, although he cannot tell us who was involved. This line of questioning is to determine if Private Poats knows a rape when he sees one.”

“Mister President,” protested Fox, “this is not only a rape case, but murder as well, and in a murder case you always lose your best witness. What Private Poats has told us is what he observed. He stated plainly that in his opinion what he saw was rape. I submit that the court is intelligent enough to decide for itself if a crime was committed after hearing all the testimony.” Fox glared at Gore, who returned the look disdainfully.

“These men,” Gore said, gesturing toward the table, “are accused of the most serious of crimes. The Judge Advocate has introduced testimony by a man who claims he saw a rape. As Captain Fox astutely points out, there is no complaining witness, because both of them were murdered. Nor are their bodies to be examined, because they were apparently dragged off at some point. The defense asserts no contention to the contrary. But in the absence of the direct corroboration of the two women who were allegedly raped, the defense respectfully suggests that this is essential to find out exactly how this witness knows that what he saw was rape.”

Maitland leaned back in his chair and considered the argument, then spoke in a measured tone:

“All right, Captain, I will let you proceed so long as it has bearing on the issue you have just presented. But be advised that I believe you are on shaky ground.”

“Thank you, sir,” Gore said, and walked briskly back to the partition.

“I ask you again, Private Poats, have you ever witnessed, or been a part of, sexual intercourse with a Vietnamese woman?”

Poats seemed embarrassed, and his answer was spoken weakly.

“Yes, sir.”

“Please tell us about it.”

“Well, there was a time at Monkey Mountain when they let us go into the town. There was—”

“I’m talking about a more recent incident, Private Poats. I am talking about a certain patrol about three weeks ago near a hamlet in the valley where your company was positioned. Was there a woman in the rice field on that patrol?”

Poats looked absolutely shamefaced. “Yes, sir,” he said.

“Can you speak a little louder, Private Poats?”

“Yessir, there was a woman,” he said.

“What was this woman doing?”

“She was having sex with the men.”

“How was she doing that?”

Poats looked confused. “She was just doing it, sir.”

“With how many men?”

“I don’t know exactly, sir. It was Melcher’s squad and some of my own—and there was a couple of guys from First Platoon there too.”

“So this woman was having sex with perhaps—what would you say, fifteen or twenty men?”

“Maybe.”

“And were other men gathered around her, laughing and watching?”

“They was, sir.”

“Were you involved in this affair?”

“Yessir,” Poats said meekly.

“You’ll have to speak up please,” Gore said.

“Yessir,” Poats said.

“Who was this woman?”

“She was just a peasant, sir. She lived in the hamlet.”

“And she came out into the rice field and had sex with twenty men?”

“Well, sir, it was Melcher’s squad that paid her. I think they must have took up a collection or something.”

“How did you know this?”

“Somebody said it.”

“Who said it?”

“I don’t remember who exactly said it. It was just what everybody said.”

“So you availed yourself of the services of this woman on the strength of a statement by a person whose name you can’t even remember that her sexual favors had been bargained for and paid for in advance—is that correct?”

“Huh?” Poats said. “I mean, uh . . . I don’t exactly understand what you said,” he stammered.

“I mean,” Gore said, “did you have sex with this woman without actually paying her any money yourself while a crew of your buddies stood around and watched?”

Poats looked blankly at the court and at Fox, and then, very downcast, at the floor. “I guess I did, sir.”

“And you did not consider that rape, did you?”

“No,
sir,”
Poats said indignantly. “It was paid for!”

“But not by you.”

“No, sir.”

“And you can’t tell us by whom, can you?”

“I can’t remember, but everybody said—”

“That’s all, Private Poats,” Gore said.

“Please call Master Sergeant Rollie I. Moon,” Fox said. Into the courtroom stepped a tall, thin, craggy-faced man about forty years old, wearing starched khakis and an unhappy look.

“Please be seated, Sergeant, and state your name and unit.”

“Master Sergeant Rollie I. Moon, Weapons Platoon, Bravo Company, Fourth Battalion, Seventh Cavalry.”

After Moon was sworn in, Fox paced back and forth, running his fingers through his longish blond hair.

“Sergeant Moon, on the night of February sixth, nineteen sixty-seven, did you have occasion to visit the Second Platoon positions on Hill Sixty-seven?”

“Yessir, I did.”

“For what reason did you go there?”

“Well, sir, I was finished checking my night positions and I just sort of took a walk around and I heard sort of a moaning sound. I thought somebody might be sick. It was dark and I couldn’t tell who it was, so I went down to check that it was none of my people.”

“What was it, then, Sergeant?”

“It was some kind of sexual thing going on between the persons in Second Platoon and the two VC girls they had captured earlier in the day.”

“What kind of sexual thing?”

“They was screwing them.”

“You saw this?”

“Yessir, I did.”

“What did you see?”

“Sir, I seen an individual having sexual relations with one of the girls. I made sure it wasn’t one of my people. I told my people to get back to their position, and then I went back to my platoon CP.”

“What did you do there?”

“I told my people to stay away from down there. I told them whatever was going on was Second Platoon’s business and for them to stay out of it. I was there for a while and then I went back and seen the individual still on the girl.”

“The same individual?”

“Yessir.”

“What was he doing?”

“Sir, he did have his dick in her cunt, but I would say he wasn’t having sexual relations with her—it was more like he was torturing her.”

“Sergeant,” Colonel Maitland interjected, “I realize the need to be specific, but the court would appreciate it if you could be a little less graphic in your descriptions, since the transcript of these proceedings will ultimately wind up in front of some authority in Washington. You may continue.”

“I am very sorry sir, I . . .”

“Go ahead, Sergeant,” Maitland said.

“Sergeant Moon,” Fox said, “do you recognize the individual you saw having relations with the girl? Is he in this room?”

“He is, sir. It was Sergeant Groutman. He is sitting over there.”

“I have no more questions,” Fox said.

Gore walked close to the witness chair.

“From the groaning—I take it it was the girl groaning—and from what you saw, what did you conclude was going on?”

“I didn’t conclude nothing, sir. I just wanted to make sure it was none of my people.”

“But you must have formed an opinion of what was going on, didn’t you?”

“I did not, sir.”

“All right, Sergeant, you saw all this and you did not form any opinion whatsoever. Now what about the groaning? What did you make of that?”

“It did not last long. It was very brief.”

“How so?”

“Well, Groutman there stated to the girl to
‘im lang,’
which means ‘shut up’ in English.”

“You mean it is ‘shut up’ in Vietnamese.”

“Yessir, that’s what it means.”

“And did the girl shut up?”

“She did, sir.”

“Didn’t you think after hearing that that Sergeant Groutman might have been forcing himself on the girl?”