Court Martial (16 page)

“Promise?” The fourteen-year-old’s eyes lit up.

“That’s a promise!”

“Corporal Barnett? We’re waiting,” said the Army colonel assigned to military protocol. The brigadier general had his hand
on the colonel’s arm and smiled. The colonel looked at the general and understood that Spencer had made another friend. “If
you don’t mind,” he added.

“I’ll see you’all later.” Spencer smiled and felt a long-established hurt disappear. His foster parents hadn’t dumped him
as he had been told by the social-services staff. “How did you get here?”

“Sergeant Woods paid for our air fare.”

Spencer smiled. He owed David a lot for this.

Spencer had loved living with the Callam family when he was a foster child in the South Carolina social-services program.
They were the first
real
family he had ever seen where love and respect for one another were basic parts of family life.

Camera strobe lights flashed, bringing Spencer back to the White House Rose Garden. Even the Army colonel realized that something
special had gone on between the boy-hero and the family from South Carolina.

The Army’s “Caisson” song echoed against the white stucco of the building the instant Corporal Barnett’s foot touched the
carpeted patio. Members from the Old Guard Division’s band played the music they knew by heart. Spencer stood where the brigadier
general pointed on the red carpet and looked back at the French doors. His thoughts slipped back to Arlington Cemetery.

Sergeant Arnason felt a shiver ripple down his spine. The air seemed to transmit excitement. He felt that everything in front
of him would vanish if he blinked his eyes. Some of the most powerful men in America were casually talking to one another
around the Rose Garden as they waited for the President to appear and make the presentation.arnason recognized General Westmoreland
talking to Senator Thurmond from South Carolina.

“Hail to the Chief’ began abruptly by the band as the President of the United States emerged from his residence, followed
by a half-dozen Treasury agents and aides. Everyone in the Rose Garden watched as he approached the blond boy-hero from South
Carolina. Spencer’s foster mother started crying and her husband and son slipped their arms around her.

Spencer watched the President approach and at the last possible second the most powerful man in America smiled at the soldier,
but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Spencer looked away and blinked before searching the gathered crowd for a friendly face.
He found Arnason and Woods and smiled at them. It looked like they were really enjoying themselves.

A voice coming from a hidden loudspeaker system stopped the music and small talk within the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen…
the President of the United States.”

“Thank you very much for joining us here in the Rose Garden for this very special occasion. We have gathered here to honor
one of our Vietnam War heroes…” the President glanced down at the three-by-five card in his hand, “Corporal Spencer Barnett
from the great state of South Carolina.” He glanced up at Senator Thurmond and smiled; the senator was the senior member of
the powerful Armed Services Committee. “Corporal Barnett has earned this nation’s highest military award for distinguishing
himself conspicuously by gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life....” The President glanced down at the card again,
then looked over at the closed doors leading into the White House. A professional-sounding voice came back on over the hidden
speakers to read the official citation:

“Corporal Spencer Barnett, while serving as a long-range reconnaissance team member with the first Cavalry Division in Vietnam,
distinguished himself by numerous acts of valor and courage at the risk of his life while engaged with and armed enemy of
the United States of America.

Corporal Barnett engaged a large enemy force along with other members of his team in the A Shau Valley of Vietnam and he personally
killed or wounded fourteen enemy soldiers before ordering his teammates to withdraw while he provided protective fire. The
large enemy force overran Corporal Barnett’s position and captured him along with another member of his reconnaissance team.

Corporal Barnett was tortured by the enemy in the most cruel manner and yet he still wouldn’t divulge the top-secret information
he possessed, which resulted in the direct elimination of over four hundred fifty-three North Vietnamese combat soldiers....”

Sergeant Arnason tried reading Spencer’s face but could see only a blank stare. The President was sweeping the crowd with
his eyes, smiling and nodding his head at political friends and foes alike.

“... The enemy increased their various tortures and yet Corporal Barnett refused to reveal the location of sensitive secret
equipment, even though others had broken under the extreme torture and compromised the information.

Corporal Barnett conducted himself honorably and with great courage that reflects highly on his unit, his country, and himself....”

The narrator’s voice droned on, impressing even the most hardened military men in the crowd. Corporal Barnett’s citation read
like a Hollywood cult-hero movie.

Spencer’s thoughts were on Mary. He kept staring over at her and could see the extreme pride in her eyes, which made him happy.
A military aide took two sharp steps forward and opened the blue leather box for the President. The beautiful light blue neck
ribbon glittered in the bright light against the tan background in the box. The President removed the medal and held it up
in the air for a second so that the cameramen could take pictures of him holding it, then he placed it around Spencer’s neck.
The Old Guard band began playing “America the Beautiful.”

Woods leaned over and whispered inarnason’s ear, “Shit! this is making me jealous!”

Arnason smiled and whispered back, “Me too!”

The ceremony was well done and everything was executed perfectly. Spencer was escorted back to the small reception room for
coffee and cake by the President, who excused himself shortly thereafter to attend an important meeting.

Mary went to Spencer and hugged him. “You looked wonderful standing up there!”

“Sure…” Spencer blushed. “I’d rather have been with you in the meadow....” Mary blushed.

“What are you two talking about that’s making your faces turn red?” Woods grabbed his buddy’s hand and shook it. “Coneratulations!”

“Thanks.” Spencer hugged Mary.

“Well, now that you’ve won The Big One, you can retire.” Arnason shook hands with Spencer.

“What do you mean
retire?”
Spencer was still smiling. “You know—Medal of Honor winners are never sent back to combat… it has something to do with everyone,
including themselves, expecting too much from them.” Arnason watched the color drain from Spencer’s face. “You weren’t planning
on going back there… were you?”

“Yes… yes I was.” Spencer couldn’t believe what he had just heard. “You mean I can’t serve in any
future
wars?”

“Maybe, if the President himself signed your orders.” Arnason was being facetious but Spencer took him seriously.

“Whew! I thought there for a second that there was no way I could get back to Vietnam. Hell, if that was the case, I surely
wouldn’t have accepted this medal.” Spencer smiled.

Woods shook his head and Arnason started laughing. “Spencer, what the hell are we going to do with you!” He turned to Mary.
“Woman! Mellow this guy out for us, will you!”

“I’m trying… Lord knows I’m trying!” She started laughing too.

The next hour was filled with senior military officers and NCOs congratulating Spencer and people staring at the medal hanging
around his neck. Spencer ignored the stares and enjoyed his friends and the members of his foster family. The fourteen-year-old
kept reaching up to touch the medal.

“Would you like to try it on?” Spencer started reaching behind his neck to unfasten the ribbon.

“Please!” The Army colonel appeared suddenly. “Don’t insult the United States Army by letting a kid wear our highest award
in public!”

Spencer glared at the colonel and was stopped from saying what was on the tip of his tongue by Arnason’s hand squeezing his
arm. “He’s right, Spence… someone might get
jealous
if you let the boy wear it here in front of the press.”

Spencer glared at the staff colonel for another couple of seconds, then said to the fourteen-year-old, with his eyes still
on the officer, “You can wear it later.”

“If you would please exit through the side doors soon, I will be able to get the rest of the people to leave and have this
room cleaned up for the next event for today.” The colonel kept his eyes averted as he spoke.

Woods nodded toward the door. “Let’s go.” He waited until they were on the walkway headed toward their sedans before adding,
“What an ass!”

“The Army is made up of all kinds of people,” arnason replied as he stepped into a waiting car. He rolled down the window
and called over to Spencer, who was riding with Mary, “I think we’re all going over to the Washington Sheraton for the rest
of the day and then fly back to the cabin tomorrow.”

Spencer nodded in agreement. He had been briefed that they would be staying in special reserved suites at the Washington,
D.C., hotel for the night so that Spencer could meet with his family and friends, and then they would return to the cabin
for a couple of days before flying by Army helicopter to Camp McCall for the opening of James’s court-martial.

It was raining in Detroit, which made the funeral ceremony for the four Death Angels even more dreary. Master Elijah stood
under a large black umbrella that was being held by a twelve-year-old acolyte. The boy had green eyes and medium-brown skin
and did not adhere to the pure racial standards that Elijah had personally set for acolytes to the Brotherhood, but he had
made an exception in the boy’s case to show his congregation that even diluted black blood was stronger than pure white blood.
The boy suffered from a great deal of harassment by the
pure
black acolytes attending classes at the mosque, but Master Elijah could see that it was making the boy tougher. He would
never admit even to the child that he was very partial to him, especially the child’s fine features and soft wavy hair. The
boy could easily have been a high-paid model in any agency in Detroit. Master Elijah looked out over the crowd surrounding
the four closed caskets, then paused to look at the boy’s face before returning his attention to the assembled ministers standing
in a row to the right of the caskets. He smiled pleasantly to himself as he considered what they would think if they knew
that the mixed-blood acolyte standing next to him was his son by one of his white mistresses.

The minister from the mosque in Atlanta looked around the gathering in the cemetery for his bodyguards. He didn’t like standing
so long out in the open, especially in a downtown Detroit cemetery. He located his men and nodded toward his limousine. He
wanted them to be ready to leave the instant the burial was finished. He sneaked a glaring look over at Master Elijah and
was caught by the penetrating glare of the Supreme Minister. It was too late for him to change the expression on his face,
so he allowed his hate to show through. He, along with all the other ministers from around the country, had told Master Elijah
that it would be stupid to all show up together for the funeral of the four Death Angels, but Master Elijah had insisted that
they appear together as a show of unity to the congregation. He was sure that very few people inside the church knew that
the Death Angels even existed, and those who weren’t Death Angels or pledged to become Death Angels had no idea of what they
really did for the mosque leaders. The word had been spread through the congregation that the deaths were due to a drug war
between the Brotherhood and the devilbeasts.

The two black FBI agents blended in perfectly with the crowd standing around the caskets. They wore modest business suits
and tan raincoats. A team of special photographers was set up on the roof of a large warehouse across the street from the
Brotherhood. When they returned to their headquarters and developed the photographs, they would be in for a very pleasant
surprise. The leader from Atlanta had passed out to each Death Angel present at the funeral a small silver angel earring to
wear in honor of their fallen comrades. Master Elijah had forbidden even mentioning association with the Death Angels outside
of the mosques and would have had the minister shot on the spot if he had known about the earrings. The FBI agents would notice
the silver angels and within a few weeks identify all of them as criminals wanted for other crimes.

* * *

Spencer Barnett looked out of the seventh-floor window at the darkening sky. He held a glass of Coke in his hand. Mary approached
him from behind and wrapped her arms around his waist. He smiled and turned around to hug her. “Thanks for coming today. I
needed to see your face there.”

“It was my pleasure, Spencer Barnett.” She kissed him.

“Please!” Woods set his beer down on the glass coffee table and exaggerated with his hands. “Wait until I leave for my R and
R back in Nebraska before you cause me to bust!”

Mary smiled shyly. “For you, David… we’ll wait.”

Spencer glanced over at his foster brother, who had fallen asleep curled up on the dark maroon sofa in the luxury suite. The
fourteen-year-old was wearing Spencer’s Medal of Honor around his neck and held the medallion clenched tightly in his hand.

“We’d better get him back to our motel room.” The father set his finished drink down on the bar and looked over at his wife.

“Where are you staying?” The tone in Spencer’s voice told the Callams that he didn’t want them to leave.

“Somewhere down the street a piece…The Mayflower?” The man looked at his wife, who nodded.

“Look… I’ve got a double suite here....” Spencer went over to the double doors that led off the main living’ area and opened
them to reveal a large double bed and a private bath. “You can use this bedroom and I still have mine on the other side.”
Spencer nodded at the double doors opposite the ones he had opened.