Court Martial (6 page)

“What in the hell!” Spencer started laughing and then looked up and saw Reggie standing in the doorway with Mary.

“Surprise!” Trung’s soft voice filled the room.

“What are you guys doing here?” Spencer looked over at Mary for an answer. She shrugged.

“We came to visit,” Reggie answered. “Dad’s in a big meeting over at the Pentagon and we decided that it was time to see you.”
He took a seat at the foot of the bed and watched Spencer rub his hands through the kids’ hair. “Dad had to really pull some
strings. They’ve got you locked up here in the security ward.”

A shocked expression covered Spencer’s face. “Security?”

“Yeah… didn’t you know? Man, we’ve been trying to visit you since they put you in here.” Reggie glanced over at the nurse.

“Spencer, they made me promise not to mention it to you.” She looked down at the scuff marks on the waxed floor. “That’s why
we always used the back elevator when we left here. It was so you wouldn’t see the signs posted out front.”

“Why?” Spencer’s voice revealed the hurt he was feeling over the deception.

“I don’t know if I’m allowed to tell you.”

“Why?” The anger in his voice scared the kids and Spencer immediately hugged them to reassure the preteens that he wasn’t
angry with them.

“They don’t know what you’re going to do.” Mary felt very bad about taking part in the deception, but the decision to place
him in the high-security ward had been made when he first arrived at the hospital. “Spencer,
all
POWs are put in here until they recover—”

“Recover? I haven’t recovered?” Spencer shook his head. “Colonel Garibaldi has been out of here for weeks!”

“He cooperated with the psychiatrists....” Mary’s voice dropped.

Spencer laughed. “Then I’m going to rot in here or escape.” He turned his attention back to the children. “You guys want to
help me plan my breakout?”

“Yeah!” The ten-year-old boy sat up on the bed and crossed his legs. “We could sneak you out on one of those hospital carts.
I saw that on TV last night.”

“Good thinking!” Spencer laughed but his eyes flashed his hurt to the nurse.

“Spencer?” Seven-year-old Trung’s voice drew everyone’s attention.

“Yeah, Dove…”

“Why are you and Reggie always in the hospital?”

It took a couple of seconds for the question to sink in and then Reggie began laughing. He had been in the hospital in Vietnam
to have his lung removed after being shot, and now the very next time they were back together again, Spencer was in a hospital
bed. To the seven-year-old, the correlation was that American soldiers were always sick. “Trung, Spencer is better. He had
a few bad days back in Vietnam and came here to get some medicine.”

“Oh.” The girl was satisfied with the answer from her adopted big brother.

“So, how are you two guys doing back here in the States?” Spencer kissed the girl’s forehead. It felt good being next to the
kids again.

“I like school.” Jean-Paul smiled.

“He’s getting straight A’s!” Reggie interjected.

“Really?” Spencer ruffled the boy’s hair and it fell more naturally into place.

“Yep! And I’m on a Little League baseball team!” Jean-Paul wiggled on the bed in his excitement. “I play shortstop!”

“I’m taking tap dancing!” Trung tried gaining Spencer’s attention.

“Now
that’s
a show at our house. Dad’s about ready to volunteer for duty back in Vietnam!
Four
girls in tap dancing and one in gymnastics!”

“I thought there were
six
girls?” Spencer knew that Reggie had five sisters before his father rescued Jean-Paul and Trung from Vietnam and adopted
them.

“There
are!”
Jean-Paul’s tone of voice said it all. He was outnumbered.

“Hey, sport! We hold our own now!” Reggie reached over on the bed and lifted the small ten-year-old up in the air and roughhoused
with him for a couple of seconds.

“Yeah, but when you’re away in college they try bossing me around all the time.” Jean-Paul flashed a glance at his sister.

Mary stood in the background and watched the warm scene. She noticed how close the two children remained to Spencer and how
they constantly reached over and touched him as if they were trying to pass some of their energy over to him through his skin.
It was very good medicine. She saw the glow coming back into Spencer’s eyes.

“We do not!” Trung spoke the words like a mother.

“Hah! You try making me play house!”

“You’re always the father!”

“All right, kids… easy now… Spencer is sick, don’t forget,” Reggie said to calm the kids down.

“So what’s your father up to here in Washington?” Spencer dropped his head back against the stacked pillows and the kids settled
down again, one on each side of him.

“I don’t know exactly, but I
think
he’s being assigned to a general court-martial review board.” Reggie looked out the window. “You’ve heard about James?”

“A little.”

“A couple of black hit men tried busting him out of Leavenworth.”

“No shit!”

“Yeah, one of them was zapped and the other one got away. The FBI is looking for him.”

“Where’s James now?” The question was loaded.

Reggie glanced at Spencer. “I was told that I couldn’t tell you that.”

“Why?” Spencer was becoming very angry.

“You got me, buddy. A lot of weird shit is going on.” Reggie looked out the window again so that he didn’t have to look in
Spencer’s eyes.

Spencer looked at Mary. “Go tell the shrink that I want to talk to him as soon as my visitors leave.”

Mary hesitated and then left the room.

“It’s really good seeing you again, Reg.” Spencer’s tone of voice changed completely when the nurse had left the room. All
the facade was gone and his pain showed through.

“Are you okay?” Reggie felt the anguish in his old recon buddy.

“Yeah… I just need to get out of this damn place for a while.” He hugged the kids tightly. “Thanks for bringing the kids with
you. I need this.” The children responded to the pain they saw in Spencer’s eyes by snuggling even closer to him.

“Do you want me to talk to Dad?”

“Yeah, have him talk to Colonel Garibaldi too… maybe they can pull something off.”

“You mean Major General Garibaldi?”

“Yeah.”

“Consider it done.”

“Thanks.”

The psychiatrist entered the room and the conversation stopped. The first thing the doctor noticed was the two children curled
up on each side of Spencer and the relaxed expression on his patient’s face.

“Well look, we have to be going....” Reggie sensed that it was time to leave.

“So soon?” Trung’s soft voice pleaded with her brother.

“Yep, the doctor wants to give Spence a
shot!”

Dr. Martin grinned. “What do I have here,
three patients in
one bed?”

Jean-Paul had had his share of shots when he was in the hospital in Vietnam from the wounds he had received from a 122mm rocket.
He slipped off the bed and stood next to Reggie. Trung gave Spencer a rushed kiss and joined her brother. Jean-Paul glanced
over at the doctor, decided that he would risk
it,
and quickly hopped back up on the bed and kissed Spencer.

“I think these kids
like
you.” The psychiatrist started his mind games.

“Believe it or not, a few people actually do.” Reggie had caught the tone in the doctor’s voice and now leaned over and kissed
Spencer’s cheek. The kids giggled. “Later… Spence.”

Spencer laced his hands behind his head and smiled at the doctor. Let him figure that one out on his own.

The doctor waited until they had left before commenting, “You have some
close
friends there.”

“War buddies.” Spencer winked at the doctor.

“You’re a hard one to figure out.” The psychiatrist sighed. He wasn’t kidding. “What do you want?”

“Out of here.” Spencer kept the smile on his face. “Something is going on and I’ve got a strong feeling that I’m a major player.
My price for cooperation is getting out of here.”

The doctor smiled. “That could be arranged with a little cooperation.”

Spencer smiled back. He was getting very good at playing mind games.

The rain added to the gloom surrounding the meeting. Stars flashed in the room from the shoulders and collars of the officers
who were assembled around the oak conference table. The sergeant major of the Army looked at each of the faces and recognized
most of them from prior assignments and his long Pentagon tours. He recognized newly promoted Brigadier General Jack Seacourt
from one of his tours with the 82nd Airborne Division stationed at Fort Bragg, and nodded. The general nodded back but didn’t
smile. The assembly was too serious for friendly smiles.

“Gentlemen, please grab some coffee and take your seats.” The white-haired lieutenant general spoke from the end of the table
as he dropped a thick manila folder down on the polished wood.

The sergeant major set his mug on a folded piece of paper so he wouldn’t mark the wood tabletop and crossed his legs to one
side. He was the only enlisted man in the room and he knew that the only reason he had been invited was that Specialist Fourth
Class Mohammed James had requested in writing that enlisted men be appointed to sit as members of his court-martial. This
was one meeting the sergeant major really did not want to attend.

“I want to thank all of you for taking the time out of your very busy schedules to fly here on such short notice, especially
Jack Seacourt, who left Vietnam early yesterday morning and has been traveling since then.”

As the one-star general nodded at the lieutenant general heading the review board, everyone else in the room was staring at
him. The prisoner snatch his special unit had conducted had made him famous and there was a little more than the normal jealousy
from his peers.

The three-star general shifted in his seat and continued talking in a husky voice. “Gentlemen… I’ve been in the Army for thirty-four
years and this is the worst thing that I’ve ever had to deal with.” The opening remark was profound. “I know that the secrecy
of this meeting has a couple of you a little baffled, but very soon you’ll understand why we’ve taken so many elaborate precautionary
measures. First I want to go around the table and introduce each of you.” The senior general started with the man in civilian
clothes to his right. “Mr. Manning is representing the Federal Bureau of Investigation; Mr. Templar is from the Counter Intelligence
Agency; Colonel Chan is a law officer out of the JAG office.” He switched to the other side of the table. “You all know the
Sergeant Major of the Army....” The senior NCO nodded. “Major General Koch is from the Special Forces Center at Bragg; Colonel
Sinclair is a special assistant to the secretary of the Army; you’ve just met Jack Seacourt; and Lieutenant Colonel Tom Kemp
is from the First Cavalry Division in Vietnam.” The lieutenant general looked over at the JAG officer. “Have you gotten an
opinion yet on Kemp?”

“Yes sir. Under the
Manual for Courts-Martial,
Lieutenant Colonel Kemp is considered far enough removed from the accused’s unit to be eligible to serve on the board.”

“Are you
sure?”

“Yes sir.”

“Brigadier General Heller is an instructor at the Senior Staff College and an expert on military affairs.” He glanced over
at the officer sitting next to the wall away from the conference table. “Dr. Martin joins us from Walter Reed Army Hospital.
He’s the psychiatrist who is treating our star witness, Corporal Spencer Barnett.”

Colonel Sinclair and General Seacourt caught each other’s eyes; both men were surprised.

“Gentlemen, you have all been called here for a briefing on the charges against a Specialist Fourth Class Mohammed James....
This is a very unique court-martial for a number of reasons: first, he’s black… second, he’s being charged with killing white
soldiers in combat… third, he’s aided the enemy and spied for the North Vietnamese.... All of these charges are
alleged.”
The general looked over at the two men in civilian clothes. “And our civilian counterparts have a few charges of their own
and will have the opportunity to brief us. First let’s have Colonel Chan read the charges.”

The Army colonel wearing Judge Advocate General Corps brass on his collars stood up and an overhead projector came on. The
charges were flashed on the screen:

ARTICLE 118. MURDER.

(a) Twenty-three counts.

ARTICLE 104. AIDING THE ENEMY.

(a) Two counts.

ARTICLE 105. MISCONDUCT AS A PRISONER.

(a) Forty-seven counts for the purpose of securing favors from the enemy.

(b) Nine counts of maltreatment of fellow prisoners.

ARTICLE 106. SPIES.

(a) One count of espionage against the United States and her allies.

The colonel gave the assembled military men and civilians a chance to read the charges before he spoke. “As you can see, gentlemen,
we have a major problem. Black soldiers are already complaining that they are being treated unfairly in Vietnam, and now this.
We have to court-martial him, but the greatest care must be taken that the soldier’s rights are not violated in any way.”

“What the colonel is saying is that this case could be the spark that could shatter this country and for sure cause a major
rift within the military. Gentlemen, we are talking about a soldier who is being accused of murdering his fellow soldiers
in
combat
just because they happen to be
white.”

The FBI agent lifted his hand, trying to draw the general’s attention.

“Yes, Mr. Manning.”

“We should note here that five of those alleged murders took place in Detroit as an initiation into a Black Muslim sect called
the Death Angels.”

“Thank you.” The general nodded at the special agent. “Sergeant Major?”

“Yes sir.”

“James’s attorneys requested that there be enlisted men on the general court-martial board. According to our friends in the
legal office, three of the seven-man board will have to be enlisted. Can you give us a list of recommended names from preferably
minority groups?”