The Final Line (12 page)

“What was your understanding of how you were to execute your orders?” Evans pressed. “As a Recon Marine, you’re used to functioning with minimal instruction and supervision.”

“That’s correct ma’am.” Corey was heartened by the fact that Captain Evans didn’t seem disdainful of Recon, despite their reputations for being arrogant. “I executed my mission according to Marine Corps regs and training, and under the current ROE.”

Evans made a notation on her pad. “And when you made contact inside the house, what did you find?”

Corey paused, picturing the scene as he and Tyler had pushed through the door, weapons raised and firing. He identified a room full of hostiles, all armed. Corey squeezed off two rounds. Tyler’s M16 chattered beside him, doing the same. More Marines entered from a different doorway to their left. Across the room, several more combatants fell to the floor.

The noise level dropped slightly. Corey sighted at a man directly ahead pointing an AK47 in their direction. Two quick and light squeezes of his trigger and Corey watched the man fall. Two more loud cracks sounded beside him as Tyler fired. The last man standing dropped to the floor, leaving only U.S. Marines on their feet.

In his mind’s eye, Corey quickly counted seven neutralized enemy combatants. Once the firefight was over, he and Tyler had moved around to ensure they were all dead and that all weapons were accounted for.

“My men and I successfully neutralized seven hostiles with a minimal amount of gunfire exchanged. I then secured ten AK47s, several cases of ammo and a crate of grenades.” Corey’s answer was perfunctory.

“Did the detachment remain together throughout the action?” Evans asked.

It was a leading question. Corey was on the record as having sent Sergeant Nygaard with a team to secure the perimeter of the house and check for additional, hidden threats.

“Once we had neutralized the threats inside of the house, I ordered Sergeant Michael Nygaard to take a team of five men and secure the perimeter,” Corey replied.

“Did you order Sergeant Nygaard to take any specific action beyond the securing of the perimeter?”

“No, ma’am,” Corey answered almost before the captain had stopped speaking. He’d been ready for that particular question. “The order I gave specified a single task for him to execute, and was to be carried out according to our training and the standing ROE.”

All three of them made notes on their legal pads.

“Who reported to you that Sergeant Nygaard had successfully completed his mission?” Captain Hirata asked, surprising Corey.

Things had happened so quickly, his memories of these particular events were hazy. Corey struggled to recall who had reported to him. He twisted his hands around the water bottle. Corey’s knee bounced violently as he couldn’t locate the memory. His chest heaved with every breath, Corey almost couldn’t hear over the sound of his heart thundering in his ears.

“I…I sought out Nygaard and his men.” Corey vaguely remembered exiting the house through the rear entrance. He was sweating in all of his gear, adrenaline flooding his system like it always did in combat. The cold air of Ghazni felt good on his flushed and sweaty face.

“And when you located him?” Hirata pressed.

The room spun. Corey swallowed back nausea. “I ordered him to collapse the perimeter and return with us to the Humvees,” Corey answered through clenched teeth.

His answer met with silence.

“Where on the perimeter did you locate Sergeant Nygaard?” Hirata asked in a level voice, his expression implacable.

“I don’t recall the exact location.” Corey shook his head, trying to clear it. “At least not now. I don’t remember what my after action reports might contain. Events were more clear at that time.”

“Staff Sergeant Yarwood, relax and take a couple of deep breaths,” Captain Evans ordered. She wore a concerned expression that confused Corey.

Taking another drink of water, Corey realized his hands were trembling. He took several deep, cleansing breaths. He flexed his fingers, working the stiffness out of knuckles. Corey rolled his tense shoulders and stretched the tightness in his lower back.

“That’s better,” Evans said, giving him an encouraging smile. “Now, when you located Sergeant Nygaard, what did he say to you?”

“That he had successfully completed his mission,” Corey replied. He gasped as a memory flashed through his mind. Nygaard, staring up at him, eyes wild and hate filled. He’d said something and Corey had very nearly lifted his weapon and pointed it at a fellow Marine.

Why the fuck had he felt that way?

“What action did you take next?” Evans asked.

“I ordered him to collapse the perimeter,” Corey answered readily. “We gathered up the bodies of the hostiles we had neutralized, to document our adherence to the ROE and ensure they were returned to appropriate family members. I ordered the platoon to return to the Humvees, where I reported a successful completion of my mission to Lieutenant Adams.”

Corey could tell by their faces that he had provided more information than they had asked for. He hadn’t intended to control the interview but the officers hadn’t missed his sudden, uncharacteristic verbosity.

“When you rejoined the rest of your platoon, did you see evidence of further combat?” Hirata asked.

“There was a small, white vehicle that had been disabled by gunfire, sir,” Corey answered. “The dead bodies of four Arab males lay beside the vehicle. The LT informed me that the vehicle had engaged them with hostile intent and they had neutralized the threat.”

“Did you have occasion to examine the bodies, Staff Sergeant?” Special Agent Hoffman asked.

“Examine, sir?” Corey confirmed curiously. “No. During the execution of my duties, I observed wounds consistent with two-two-three rounds.”

“And what duties were you executing?” questioned Hoffman.

“Securing the bodies for transport so they could be documented and returned to family,” replied Corey.

Hoffman continued his line of questioning. “Did you assist with any of the documentation?”

“Only with the hostiles from inside the house.” Corey was sure these details were in all of his reports, so he wondered what the agent was trying to confirm.

Hoffman scanned the papers in front of him. “Who handled the documentation of the combatants from the hostile vehicle?” His pen was poised, ready to make a notation.

“The Lieutenant oversaw that, sir.” Corey wished he could see what all of their notes said.

“Were some of the bodies transported back to base on the hoods of Humvees, Staff Sergeant?” Captain Evans asked abruptly.

“Yes, ma’am,” Corey replied, switching his attention to her. “As unfortunate as that was, it couldn’t be helped.”

“Why was that?” she asked, as if she already knew the answer.

“We didn’t have enough body bags for the number of bodies we had to transport, ma’am.” Corey paused until she nodded for him to continue. “In an effort to prevent incidents of PTS in Marines, we do not transport un-bagged bodies
inside
of the Humvees with U.S. personnel.”

Captain Evans glanced at Captain Hirata. It was Hirata who asked, “To your knowledge, were any of the bodies shown any disrespect or subjected to any desecration?”

Corey’s blood turned to ice. He stared at Captain Hirata, unable to formulate a reply. It wasn’t a question he’d been asked before and it finally gave Corey a clue as to what might be driving this investigation. “No, sir, I did not. I neither gave, nor received any orders for my Marines to behave without honor. Had I observed any such inappropriate behavior, it would have included it in my after action reports.”

“Who did you submit your completed reports to, Staff Sergeant?” Hoffman asked quickly.

“My platoon commander, sir.” Another question Corey was sure they knew the answer to. “Lieutenant Dominic Adams.”

“Have you read any of your reports
after
they were submitted to and approved by Lieutenant Adams?”

Corey very nearly answered yes. “I have not had access to my reports since submitting them. I only have my original drafts, which I read through before interviews such as this one.”

“Is that a no, Staff Sergeant?” Hoffman lifted a single eyebrow.

“It’s a no, sir.”

Hoffman’s nod told Corey he’d anticipated that answer.

“Have you been approached by anyone regarding how to answer our questions here today?” asked Hirata.

Corey should have been surprised by that question. “Early last week, I encountered members of my former platoon in a public area here on base. When Corporal Tyler Howe inquired as to whether we should be concerned about this investigation, I informed him that because we did nothing wrong, we had no need to worry. Sergeant Michael Nygaard attempted to recruit those of us there into coordinating stories.”

The three interviewers conferred quietly with one another. Corey finished the last of the water in the bottle.

“That’s all we have for you now, Staff Sergeant,” Captain Hirata said. “You’re subject to recall as we progress, though.”

“Understood, sir.” Corey stood at attention. “Captain Hirata, is it possible to have a moment of your time?”

The three interviewers looked at him in surprise.

“Is it regarding this investigation?” Hirata asked.

“Indirectly, sir,” Corey answered. “I’m going to have to answer questions regarding the incident Saturday night involving Sergeant Nygaard.”

Hirata nodded his understanding. “Give us five minutes?” he asked his companions. When they were alone, the captain told Corey he could resume his seat. He carried his own chair around the table and closer to Corey’s.

“Relax, Staff Sergeant,” Hirata said with a smile. “This is an informal conversation.”

“Thank you, sir.” Corey took a deep breath. “When I saw Nygaard in jail on Saturday, he made reference to something I think might be this incident. He said I ordered him to do things, but he wasn’t specific.”

“What do the events in Ghazni have to do with his murdering his girlfriend?” the captain asked.

Corey sighed explosively and ran a hand over his the bristles of his hair. “I don’t know, a PTS defense, maybe? I want to cooperate but not at the expense of the Marine Corps.”

“Let’s do what we can to prevent that,” Hirata replied. “Have both the prosecution and defense requested interviews?”

Corey nodded, relieved at the attorney’s reaction.

“Have the Master Sergeant forward copies of the requests to me. We’ll make sure you don’t have to run the gauntlet alone.” Hirata’s smile was warm and reassuring.

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate that.” Corey wanted to ask if his suspicions about the motivation for this investigation were accurate. He decided against it.

Captain Hirata seemed to notice Corey’s hesitation. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, sir, but thank you.” He just wanted to get out of this room. He needed to be alone to think.

Captain Hirata dismissed him. Corey fled the conference room once he had his salute returned.

Climbing into his Jeep, Corey slammed the door. He retrieved his cell phone from its hiding spot beneath the seat. He pulled up Tyler’s number and called it, closing his eyes and willing Howe to be able to answer.

“Hey, man. How’d it go?” Tyler sounded calm and friendly.

“Fine, I guess,” Corey replied. “I got asked questions nobody’s asked before, though.”

“Yeah? Like what?” A note of concern laced Tyler’s voice.

“Did you see anybody fuck with the bodies we took back to base?” he asked.

“Hell no!” There was a long pause. “Jesus Christ, did somebody really do that kind of shit?”

Corey’s leg was bouncing in agitation again. “I don’t know. Is anybody in the platoon talking about anything like that?”

“No, but what I am hearing is shit about those guys in the car not being armed.”

“Fuck,” Corey spat. “Did the LT know?”

“Guys that were there say the Lieutenant gave the order.”

“This is so FUBAR.” Corey stared blindly out the windscreen.

There were noises in the background of the call. Corey heard muffled voices.

“Dude, I gotta get back to work,” Tyler said hastily.

“Call me later,” Corey replied and ended the call. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat. He should get back to work, there were still a couple hours of training left to conduct. He just needed a moment.

He replayed the events of Ghazni in his head. He remembered ordering Corporal Howe to keep the house secure while he went out after Nygaard. Why? And why didn’t he remember what happened after he left the house?

Corey had trouble catching his breath. His heart raced. Opening his eyes, he located Sean’s phone number and called it.

“Hey, did you sleep okay the rest of the night?” Sean’s smooth voice was warm and comforting.

“Yeah, thanks,” Corey replied, out of breath. Why was he out of breath?

“Corey, what’s wrong?” Sean’s voice was calm but now it held a note of worry.

“Nothing. I don’t know,” he gasped. He couldn’t get enough air and his heart beat so fast it hurt.

“Where are you?” Sean asked sharply.

“In my car,” he answered and tried to take a deep breath.

“Jesus Christ, you’re not driving are you?” Sean sounded panicked.

Fuck. Corey didn’t mean to scare Sean. What the hell was wrong with him? He couldn’t get a damn thing right. “No. I’m parked.”

“Are you on the base?”

“Yeah,” Corey gasped.

“Give me a second to pull over,” Sean muttered. “Did something happen?”

“No,” he answered weakly.

Why the fuck couldn’t he remember leaving the house in Ghazni? Why couldn’t he breathe? Why was his heart pounding? Corey tugged at the neck of his skivvy shirt. It was too tight and was cutting off his air. His hand shook. He wrapped it around the steering wheel, hoping that would steady him. He gripped his cell phone so tight his fingers ached.

“Corey, tell me what’s wrong.” Sean’s voice was quiet but firm.

“Can’t catch my breath,” he replied between gasps. “Fucking heart’s coming out of my chest.” The accusatory eyes of the dead women and children from his nightmare were suddenly very vivid in his mind. Corey jammed his feet into the foot well, as if he could push the images away.