The Captains (16 page)

“You need a witness to the destruction?”

“No,” Felter said. “But I would like to witness the burning.”

He walked to the shredder, a larger, noisier one than the shredder in the bald man's office. He put a fresh burn bag under it, and fed the CID's report on Lowell, Ilse Elizabeth (B. von Greiffenberg), German National (Dependent Wife of Captain LOWELL, Craig W. 0–495302 Armor, USAR) into the shredder. When it was shredded, he took the burn bag out behind the Farben Building and handed it to a burly uniformed MP who threw it into a raging fuel-oil incinerator.

Then he walked over to the Frankfurt Military Post chapel and sat in the Buick and waited for Sharon and the others to come back from their tour of the rebuilt synagogue and the other cultural attractions of Frankfurt am Main.

(Three)
Sangju, South Korea
11 September 1950

The company clerk of Tank Company, 24th Infantry Regiment, 24th Infantry Division, walked into the Old Man's office and laid two thin stacks of paper in front of him, the white original and the yellow carbon.

“Here the sonofabitch is, sir,” he said.

“Sit,” the company commander ordered. “I will read it. If there are no mistakes, strike-overs, or other manifestations of your gross incompetence as a company clerk, you may then have a beer, like the rest of those who are righteous and efficient in our assigned tasks.”

The young, light-tan sergeant smiled at his huge company commander. The Old Man knew how much he hated being drafted to be company clerk.

“You understand, of course,” the Old Man went on, “why you have to wait for your beer? If you can't do it sober, what would it look like…”

“That sonofabitch is perfect, sir,” the young tan sergeant said.

The Old Man read it very carefully.

 

MORNING REPORT TANK COMPANY 24TH INFANTRY REGIMENT 11 SEPT 1950

 

ORGANIZATION RELIEVED VICINITY SANGJU KOREA AND PLACED IN EIGHTH ARMY RESERVE EFFECTIVE 0001 HOURS 11 SEPT 1950

 

ABRAHAM, CHARLES W SGT RA 12379757 PREV REPORTED MIA CONFIRMED KIA 30AUG50

 

FOLLOWING BREVET PROMOTION VERBAL ORDER COMMANDING GENERAL 24TH INFANTRY DIVISION CONFIRMED AND MADE MATTER OF RECORD:

1ST LT PARKER, PHILIP S IV 0–230471 TO BE CAPT EFFECTIVE 10SEP50 THE EXIGENCIES OF THE SERVICE MAKING IT NECESSARY AND THERE BEING NO OTHER QUALIFIED OFFICER AVAILABLE, UNDER THE PROVISIONS OF AR 615–356

 

FOLLOWING TWO BREVET PROMOTIONS VERBAL ORDER COMMANDING OFFICER 24TH INFANTRY REGIMENT CONFIRMED AND MADE MATTER OF RECORD:

SFC WOODROW, AMOS J RA 36901989 TO BE 1ST SGT EFFECTIVE 29JUL50

S/SGT SIDNEY, EDWARD B RA 16440102 TO BE M/SGT EFFECTIVE 29JUL50

 

FOLLOWING FIFTY-THREE BREVET PROMOTIONS VERBAL ORDER COMMANDING OFFICER TANK COMPANY 24TH INFANTRY REGIMENT CONFIRMED AND MADE A MATTER OF RECORD SEE ATTACHMENT ONE HERETO

 

FOLLOWING OFF ATTACHED AND JOINED FROM 8TH US ARMY REPLACEMENT COMPANY 11SEP50

1ST LT STEVENS, CHARLES D 0–498566

1ST LT DURBROC, CASPAR J 0–3490878

1ST LT PORTERMAN, JAMES J 0–4017882

2ND LT WITHERS, ALLAN F 0–4119782

WOJG KENYON, ALGERNON D RW–39276

 

FOLLOWING 102 EM ATTACHED AND JOINED FROM EIGHTH ARMY REPLACEMENT COMPANY 11SEP50 SEE ATTACHMENT TWO HERETO

PHILIP SHERIDAN PARKER IV
CAPTAIN, ARMOR
COMMANDING

The large black man looked at the small tan man.

“I'm awed,” he said. “I am awed.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“But no beer,” Captain Parker said.

“No beer?”

Captain Parker reached into a duffle bag.

“A literary type such as yourself deserves more than common beer,” he said. He handed him a bottle of scotch.

“Ah, hell, I couldn't take that, Captain. I know they only gave you three bottles.”

“Don't argue with me, Sergeant,” he replied. “I'm a captain now, you know.”

As this exchange was taking place, the officers listed in the morning report were gathered in the Operations Room of the S-3 section of the 24th Infantry Regiment.

“I wanted to have a word with you gentlemen before your transport arrives,” the regimental commander said to Lieutenants Stevens, DuBroc, Porterman, and Withers.

They were dressed identically in brand-new fatigue uniforms, still showing the creases from packaging. They also wore brand-new combat boots, and each carried a .45 Colt Model 1911A1 automatic pistol in a shoulder holster.

“I'll begin by saying that what I have to say to you is not to go any further than these walls.” The walls to which he referred were those of a stuccoed frame building, three stories high, which four months before had been the Pusan Normal School.

“An officer, during his career, serves in many challenging assignments. There is no assignment more challenging, however, than service with colored troops. I can think of no test better designed to test the leadership qualifications of an officer. You may consider yourselves fortunate to have been given such an assignment, no matter what you may be thinking at the moment.

“You may have heard certain rumors about the combat effectiveness of this regiment. Unfortunately, most of what you have heard, discounting the inevitable exaggeration as a story makes its way around, are true.

“Some of our troops have run in the face of the enemy. Some of our troops have abandoned their positions and their equipment and given in to panic. There have been instances of outright cowardice. I will not deny there is a good deal of mud on the regiment's colors.

“Which brings us to the basic question, why? And the answer to that, gentlemen, not to mince words, is leadership. This regiment has been poorly led, from the platoon level to the command level. I am the fourth commander of this regiment since it was committed to this conflict, so the failures of leadership fall as heavily on senior officers as junior.

“It is my intention, gentlemen, to restore the good name of this regiment. I regard my assignment here as a challenge, almost as a compliment to me. My superiors apparently feel that I am capable of leading this regiment in such a manner that what has happened so far will be ascribed by the historians to the confusion that is an inevitable by-product of turning a garrison duty unit into a combat unit.

“The regiment has been badly mauled in the opening days of this conflict. Average unit strength is approximately sixty percent of the authorized table of organization and equipment. Until the last couple of days, requirements elsewhere have denied us replacement personnel.

“You gentlemen are the vanguard of the new and revitalized 24th Infantry. In one way, the fact that the unit to which you will be assigned will have an entirely new complement of officers and have as replacements more than fifty percent of its strength, may be viewed as an advantage. You will have the opportunity to mold it in your image, gentlemen. I am sure you will rise to the challenge. Are there any questions?”

“Sir, you said, ‘an entirely new complement of officers'?” Lieutenant Stevens asked. He had already determined that he was the senior officer. He had interpreted that to mean he would be the company executive officer, but with “an entirely new complement” he might be company commander. If you served in combat with a company for thirty days in a position senior to your rank, you could be promoted to that rank.

“A slip of the tongue. There is one officer presently assigned to Tank Company,” the colonel said. “I'm sure that at least one of you will outrank him. He made first lieutenant in May.”

Lieutenant Stevens found this very fascinating information indeed.

It had been the division commander's intention to call the regimental commander to inform him of his decision to make Parker a captain, which would permit him to remain in command. From everything he'd heard about Parker, he was a first-class officer and not only deserved the promotion but was obviously qualified to command (he had lived through the last two months). But something had come up every time he was about to reach for the telephone and tell him of his decision.

Lieutenant Stevens rode in the front seat of the ambulance without Red Cross markings, wondering if that wasn't somehow illegal. An ambulance was an ambulance. Taking one…it was probably stolen…and painting the red cross over and using it like a truck was something you could expect from a bunch of niggers.

One of the first things he would do in command would be to get rid of it. If they wanted to be treated like white men, it was time they understood they would be expected to behave like white men.

Tank Company was located six miles from the regimental command post, in a village called Chinhae. Lieutenant Stevens was momentarily pleased when he saw the first sergeant, a tall erect colored man in a crisply starched uniform, who approached the ambulance, came to attention, and saluted.

“Sir, may I welcome you to Tank Company?” the first sergeant said. “We've been waiting for you gentlemen for a long time.”

“Thank you, Sergeant,” Lieutenant Stevens said. “Will you have someone take care of our personal gear? Is that the way to the orderly room?”

“Yes, sir,” the first sergeant said. Stevens knew that he had zinged him. Good. The important thing to do was establish your control. Then you could be a nice guy. Within reason, of course. Give a nigger an inch and he'd take a mile.

Tank Company had apparently taken over some sort of Korean country inn, something like a hotel. The floor was of woven straw. There was a sign lettered with a wax crayon, tacked to the wall.
SHOE LINE. BARE FEET BEYOND THIS POINT
.

Some nigger's sense of humor, obviously mocking the sign erected at regimental boundaries:
HELMET LINE. HELMETS WILL BE WORN BEYOND THIS POINT
.

Well, he had no intention of paying a bit of attention to that. He marched down the tatami-covered corridor until he came to another sign.
CP
.

He slid a sliding door open. There was a nigger buck sergeant sitting in front of a typewriter, his face making it perfectly obvious that the device was entirely too complicated for him to grasp. He looked up at Lieutenant Stevens and the other officers and his eyes widened.

“Don't you come to your feet, Sergeant, when you see an officer in here?” Lt. Stevens demanded. He was rather pleased with himself. He was establishing his position on military courtesy much sooner than he thought he would have an opportunity to do so.

The sergeant jumped to his feet. “Sorry, sir,” he said. “The Old Man says not to, and we haven't had many officers around here.” He paused, smiled, and added, “We ain't been inside all that much, either.”

“Watch it in the future, Sergeant,” Lieutenant Stevens said, with what he thought was just the proper mixture of sternness and paternalism. “Where is your officer?”

“In his office, sir,” the sergeant said, nodding to another sliding door.

Lieutenant Stevens slid the door open. He saw a very large, very black man, naked to the waist, sweating, standing looking out the window. He held a can of beer in his hand.

“Ah, you must be the replacement officers,” he said. “Come on in and have a beer.” He waved at a metal container on the floor. It bore a red cross on all of its visible sides, and the words
HUMAN BLOOD—RUSH
.

“Just what the hell is going on around here?” Lieutenant Stevens asked.

“I beg your pardon?” the half-naked nigger asked in that phony Harvard a lot of them, in Lieutenant Stevens's experience, affected.