Part 27 (1/2)

”What is that and how long does it take?”

”The Article 32 investigation is like a civilian grand jury.

In the Army, the Criminal Investigation Unit, the CID, goes into the field and examines the evidence, which it presents to the investigating officer. He in turn makes his recommendation to the highest regional commander with jurisdiction for or against a court-martial. In Vietnam it's the commanding officer, a three-star general, of USARV, United States Army Republic of Vietnam. USARV is located at Long Binh, just north of Saigon.”

”What if the CID says there is no case or the investigating officer does not recommend a court-martial?” Pulmer asked.

”CID makes no recommendations. They merely present the facts as they find them. However, even if the investigating officer does not recommend a trial, USARV can overrule and order Lochert be tried regardless.”

”Who is the commander of UARV and what is his att.i.tude in this case?”

”In actuality, COMUSMACV, General Westmoreland, is the commander of USARV. It is only one of his collateral duties.

However, one of his deputies, Lieutenant General Elmer Farquell, actually runs it. I don't know what his att.i.tude is.”

”Is he a Special Forces man? One of those Green Berets?”

The JAG civilian checked his folder. ”I don't believe he is.” ' 'Good, good.” Pinky Pulmer sat back in his thick leather chair. Pulmer had correctly interpreted the Army's att.i.tude that Green Berets were snake-eating nonconformists that needed to be disbanded. A general officer with no Special Forces background could be reasonably counted on to harbor those very feelings.

”All right, all right,” Pulmer said. ”You two go back to your offices and make sure this affair proceeds quickly. I want that man tried and held up as an example that the Army does not tolerate such wanton and depraved behavior.

And I want you to set all speed records doing it.” He looked at Public Affairs. ”Prepare your press releases accordingly.”

”Sir, I can't prepare anything. The man hasn't even been tried yet, much less found guilty.”

”He will, he will,” Pulmer said and waved them away.

After they went out, and the men from Audiovisual had taken the camera and screen, Pulmer leaned forward and dialed a California number. The three-hour time difference made it quite early in San Francisco.

”h.e.l.lo,” a sleepy male voice answered.

”Oscar, it's Hayworth.”

”For G.o.d's sake, it's six-thirty in the morning. What in h.e.l.l do you want?” Oscar Nebals was a man who valued his time in bed. Particularly when he had a companion.

”Well, well. I just thought you'd want me to report on the, ah, the Lochert affair.”

”All right, report,” Oscar Nebals said, and absently fondled his bed partner.

”Well, the Article 32 investigation is under way-”

”What does that mean? Will that man be tried or not” I've got my reputation staked on his being found guilty and put away. Why the h.e.l.l do you think I want you to push this?”

Pulmer explained the Uniform Code of Military Justice method and the role of General Farquell of USARV. ”And I have it on good a.s.surance Lochert will be tried,” he added.

”Whose good a.s.surance?”

”Well, ah, my guess, my prognostication is that he will be tried. Of course we could use more public pressure. Particularly from well-known names. Makes the public at large want to identify by following their views. Gives the views more impact.” well-known writer and ”Mmm. I have just the man. He's a about to run for office out here. it would make a good issue for him.”

”Who is the man?” Pulmer asked.

”Shawn Bannister.”

1500 HOURS LOCAL, SAt.u.r.dAY 3 FEBRUARY 1968.

COMMAND POST, BLACK PANTHERS COMPANY (ARVN), HUE REPUBLIC OF VIETNAM.

”We must evacuate you,” Captain Tran Ngoc said to the two Americans and Greta Sturm. They were in his heavily fortified command post at the edge of the Tay Loc airfield.

”My general has ordered me that the Panthers are to join with him at his headquarters compound south of the river.”

Ngoc was wiry and handsome. His black hair was cut short, his eyes as black as anthracite.

The fighting had been fierce and constant since Ngoc had broken through the villa wall and rescued them. He had heard part of Wolf's radio calls, had seen the helicopter and heard the fighting. It was enough for him to act. He had taken them back across the airfield to his enclave, the only position in Hue still holding out against the NVA attack.

They brought out Rizzo's body. Lopez was still missing.

Others weren't so fortunate, Ngoc said. He told them of the deaths of a civilian USIA representative, an NBC official, several U.S. advisors, a German doctor and his wife, two French priests, and several Filipinos.

”And,” Ngoc added, ”we're receiving reports of reprisal murders of hundreds, maybe thousands, of Vietnamese civilians.”

Ngoc and his men were fighting continuously and there had been little sleep. Captain Ngoc wouldn't allow Greta Sturm to fire a weapon (”Lovely ladies should not get hands dirty”), but had no problems allowing her to uncrate supplies and load magazines with cartridges (which caused her fingers to get dirty and greasy). Rizzo's body was off to one side in a body bag.

He pointed to a map. ”Sixth NVA regimental commander has three infantry battalions and a sapper battalion against the Citadel. Fifth NVA is attacking southern part of Hue across the river.” He pointed to their attack route from Laos to the west, south of Lang Tri and Khe Sanh. ”I have ordered helicopter to pick you for a flight to Quang Tri. To pick you up for Quang Tri,” he corrected himself. ”Although fighting is there, it is not difficult or concentrated as here in old city.”

Wolf agreed. Ngoc a.s.signed a squad to escort them to the helicopter pickup point. Wolf and Greta squatted behind a wall. Polter stood with the Vietnamese Army men. Smoke rose from all parts of the city. The sounds of battle grew louder as the NVA made determined attacks against Ngoc's last bastion of the ARVN at Tay Loc.

Wolf looked at his watch. ”If we're not out of here in half an hour, we're not going to get out of here.” Like Polter, he had his M-16 and fresh magazines from Ngoc. All three were dirty and grimy from battle.

Wolf in particular. He had had no sleep for three days. He rubbed the thick stubble on his jaw. He glanced around through eyes red-rimmed and sunken. ”You did a good job back there at the villa,” he said to Greta.

”Thank you.” She was just as tired. Her s.h.i.+rt was rumpled and torn.

”Toward the end you didn't seem afraid. You held very good fire discipline. As good as any I've seen. That couldn't have come from your father. How did you stop being afraid so quickly?”

She flashed him a self-deprecating smile. ”Because I prayed all the time that I would be killed quickly and cleanly. I wanted to die rather than be captured.” She shrugged her shoulders. ”So I was not afraid.”

Wolf couldn't take his eyes from the flaxen-haired Greta Sturm. ”But you said you were going to save the last bullet for yourself. Yet when it was time to make a charge, you were ready to go. Why was that?”

She tilted her head in thought. ”Because I had decided it was better one of them should die by my last bullet, not me.

I would not give my life over to death without any struggle.”

She looked into Wolfs eyes. ”I think you can understand that?”

Wolf gave a short bark. ”Oh yes, I can understand that.

Very much can I understand that.”

They heard the whopping sound of a helicopter. In minutes a UH- I B with the roundel of South Vietnam on the fuselage had picked up the three of them and Rizzo's body.