Tyson walked to the window and lit a cigarette.
Corva added, “Of course, there was a positive side to that little scene. Colonel Amos Moore smiled for the first time in two days. I saw it. A tight little smile of approval.”
Tyson shrugged.
Corva said, “They don’t like the little shit, Ben.”
Tyson nodded slowly. “But they believe him.” Tyson drew on his cigarette. “Do you think Pierce himself believes that I ordered the enemy soldiers to be shot?”
“Oh, yes. And it gives him the moral resolve he needs to prosecute this case. The fact of you not reporting the massacre may be legal or technical murder, but neither he nor the government would have had much heart for this case if that’s all they had against you. No, they have to believe that your illegal order to commit selective murder led to the mass murder of everyone else in that hospital.”
There was a knock on the door, and an MP called out, “Time.”
* * *
Colonel Pierce looked at his witness for some time, then asked, “What was the result of this altercation between Lieutenant Tyson and the French-speaking doctor?”
“Lieutenant Tyson slapped the man across the face.”
Pierce nodded thoughtfully as if he’d heard this someplace before. Recalling that both Picard and Farley had described what followed as confusion, he said to Brandt, “Would you tell us now, in your own words, what happened after Lieutenant Tyson struck this doctor. Take your time, Doctor, and relate the incident as you recall it from your perspective.”
Brandt crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. He put the tips of his fingers together and cocked his head slightly to the side so that he was looking obliquely at Pierce. Tyson thought Brandt was about to tell Pierce that he was a very sick man. Instead, Brandt said, “The very next thing that happened was that Richard Farley swung his rifle and delivered a butt stroke to the doctor’s groin. The doctor doubled over in pain. Then Lieutenant Tyson turned to one of his men, Hernando Beltran, and told him to pull the doctor’s patient off the operating table. Beltran did this, literally throwing this man with the mangled leg on the floor. Two men lifted Peterson to the table. A white Caucasian female then placed a suction tube in Peterson’s throat and with a foot-pedal device began aspirating Peterson’s blood. But Peterson would have needed transfusions of whole blood in order to stabilize his pressure, and he would have needed immediate exploratory surgery to see if blood was collecting in the abdomen. I think the hospital staff or some of them were ready to make a show of saving his life in order to avoid an ugly scene.”
Brandt looked at his surroundings, and his eyes went to the stained-glass windows where the light had long since faded. He seemed suddenly aware of the fact that he’d been testifying since morning, and he slumped a little in the chair. He cleared his throat and went on. “Now that Peterson was on the table, Lieutenant Tyson began giving orders regarding other matters. His first concern, and properly so, was that the hospital should be searched thoroughly for hidden enemy soldiers. He ordered a room-to-room search.”
Pierce interrupted. “Excuse me. Who did he give this order to? Who was present in the operating room? Could you describe the general command structure and deployment of this platoon?”
Brandt replied, “There were a total of nineteen men who approached the hospital. As I said, it was a much reduced platoon. It was difficult to keep track of the comings and goings of everyone. Men were coming in and out, making hasty reports to Lieutenant Tyson. There were no sergeants in the platoon to give orders or supervise the men except Paul Sadowski, who had just been promoted to sergeant but who was not very experienced. There was virtually no command structure or organized deployment of the platoon. But eventually, about twelve men wound up in the operating room. It was then that Lieutenant Tyson began to attempt some organization. But the men were not at home, so to speak, in this sort of situation. They were running about, gawking at patients and staff. Some of them had not been in contact with . . . with other people for close to a year. That’s the general impression I had. One of undisciplined behavior. Inappropriate behavior for the surroundings.”
Pierce seemed to find this interesting. “Did this cause friction between the men of the platoon and the hospital personnel?”
“Oh, yes. There were several incidents.”
“Did Lieutenant Tyson correct the behavior of his men?”
“Not that I saw or heard. He’d promised them a little treat, and he let them run loose. But as I said, most of them had gravitated toward the operating room where he was. Someone reported to him that the adjoining ward held six or seven wounded North Vietnamese soldiers. Their bloody khakis had been found lying around, and somehow the men matched the khakis to the soldiers, or perhaps there were other signs to indicate who was an enemy soldier.”
“And there were about twelve men in the operating room now.”
“Yes. And one of them was now having a verbal altercation with an English-speaking doctor. Then Beltran called out that Peterson had died. Then Lieutenant Tyson gave an order to shoot any enemy soldiers who were found in the hospital.” Brandt knew to stop there.
Pierce said, “You heard him give this order?”
“Yes. He was five feet from me.”
“Can you recall in what form the order was given?”
“Not precisely. It was more of a response to these reports he was getting from a few men concerning the discovery of enemy soldiers in the beds. Lieutenant Tyson simply said something like, ‘Shoot them.’”
“Meaning the enemy soldiers.”
“That was the subject at hand, yes.”
“Did anyone appear to follow this order?”
“Yes. A few men hurried off, and we heard five or six shots. Almost immediately afterward, I heard a loud burst of gunfire right in the room. I turned, and this English-speaking doctor lay on the floor bleeding. I couldn’t tell who shot him or why. I dropped to one knee, behind the operating table. There were more bursts of automatic fire. I saw the French-speaking doctor drop to the floor. Then I heard two loud single shots, and I discovered later that someone had executed the two North Vietnamese patients in the operating room. I saw them sometime later with bullet wounds in their heads. I should point out that I couldn’t see much from where I was on the floor. I had no idea at first where the gunfire was coming from except that it was close. I even thought it might be enemy fire. But within a minute I realized it wasn’t, because no one was reacting as though it was. No one was saying ‘take cover’ or returning any fire. Everyone was on their feet within a minute. Then someone began ordering the hospital staff into the adjoining room, making them leave their patients on the tables.”
“What was Lieutenant Tyson doing during this time?”
“He seemed to be doing nothing. He had his rifle cradled in his arm, he was smoking a cigarette and speaking to his radio operator, Kelly. I should say that a state of chaos existed now. There was random shooting throughout the hospital. I could hear voices screaming in Vietnamese. Most of the platoon had gone off into the rest of the hospital. There was a time when only Lieutenant Tyson, Kelly, and I were in the operating room. Tyson seemed unable or unwilling to move from the spot and see what was happening.”
“Did you speak to him during this time?”
“Yes. I said to him, ‘They’re shooting everyone.’”
“And what did he reply?”
“He said he’d go see about it. He seemed almost unconcerned . . . detached. He and Kelly left, and I never saw them again until we’d all assembled outside the hospital.”
Pierce said, “Let’s go back to the time when the men were reporting to him about finding suspected wounded enemy soldiers. How many men reported this to him?”
“Two or three.”
“Did any of them make a suggestion as to what should be done with them? Or did they ask for instructions?”
“One of them, actually it was Sergeant Sadowski, told Lieutenant Tyson that the enemy soldiers w
ere under guard. He asked what to do with them. That’s when Lieutenant Tyson said, ‘Shoot them.’”
“Those were his exact words.”
“Yes. ‘Shoot them.’”
Pierce began a series of questions meant to replay the entire episode of the operating room. He tried to establish elapsed time, sequences, distances, positions of men, and names. But Brandt wouldn’t commit himself to details or specifics, which, Tyson thought, was the right way to handle an incident that was chaotic when it happened eighteen years before. He noted, too, that Brandt’s testimony did not perfectly coincide with Farley’s, nor should it. It would have been suspicious if it had. He thought about his own five witnesses and their stories, and the sudden realization came to him that these men could not testify. Brandt and Farley diverted from the truth only on occasions when they sought to incriminate Tyson. But Beltran, Sadowski, Kalane, Walker, and Scorello would have to relate an entire battle episode that never happened. As Brandt went through his account again, Tyson leaned to Corva and said, “We have no defense witnesses.”
Corva replied, “We never did. I’ll talk to you about that tonight.”
Pierce took Brandt finally out of the hospital, into the rain-splashed courtyard, and it was as though everyone in the chapel breathed easier as they moved from the blazing fire, screams, and gunfire into the quiet rain.
Pierce said, “So now you were all together again.”
“Yes. Then Kelly, Lieutenant Tyson’s radio operator, saw someone leap from a window of the hospital. He fired at the figure, a female, and she fell over before she could run. Then Lieutenant Tyson ordered one squad of men to deploy on each of the other sides of the hospital.”
“Why?”
“He said to shoot anyone who tried to escape. I stayed with him and Kelly and a machine-gun team on the courtyard side of the hospital.”
Tyson looked at his watch. It was 8:15 P.M. Corva must be hungry, he thought. The pews were still full, though there was some coming and going as MPs let people outside come in whenever others left. There seemed to be an inexhaustible supply of spectators, and Tyson found that interesting.
Pierce said to Brandt, “Do you want a recess?”
“No. I’m fine.”
Pierce said to Sproule, “If the court has no objections, we’d like to continue.”
Sproule replied, “You may continue until twenty-two hundred hours, then we ought to adjourn.”
Pierce turned to Brandt again and picked up the questioning. “You said Lieutenant Tyson was making false radio reports to his company commander, Captain Browder.”
“Yes. He was reporting enemy contact and giving progress reports regarding the approach to the structure which he described to Captain Browder as a large government building. He was, in effect, going back in time and creating incidents that did not happen. Meanwhile, we were putting distance between ourselves and the burning hospital.”
Pierce, to everyone’s surprise, moved quickly ahead to the French bunker. He asked Brandt, “What was the mood in the bunker?”
“Somewhat subdued. We had the two bodies with us—Peterson and Cane. Some of the men smoked marijuana. Lieutenant Tyson passed around a bottle of Scotch. A few men played cards. Lieutenant Tyson seemed intent on making them understand that they had to agree to a cover story for the incident. He coached everyone on what he should say if questioned. He congratulated them on a fine job. Then he even congratulated a man—Scorello—on using a phosphorus grenade to burn the hospital. He said something to the effect that there was no evidence to incriminate any of them. He even made up a body count.”
“Did Lieutenant Tyson indicate why he was going through this trouble of fabricating a story—why he simply didn’t report to Captain Browder on the sniper and leave it at that?”
“Yes. He indicated that too much time had elapsed. He had to account for several missed radio reports. Also, we were supposed to join up with Captain Browder and the main body of the company before dark. But Lieutenant Tyson did not want his men mingling with the rest of the company in the state they were in. So he reported we were still in the village of An Ninh Ha and would spend the night there. He also stated to Kelly, and I overheard this, that he wasn’t going to have two dead and one wounded without being able to show an enemy body count. He was a man who did not like to look bad in front of his superiors. So, he fabricated a battle that would bring credit on him. His radio operator, Kelly, wrote up a proposal for a Silver Star for Lieutenant Tyson.”
Colonel Pierce concentrated on Brandt’s recollections of the night in the bunker. Brandt, whose testimony had been almost dry, now described the atmosphere in the bunker in lyrical terms. He spoke about the flickering candlelight, the men speaking long into the night, the sound of nearby artillery fire, and the burning city of Hue, whose west wall was less than a kilometer away. Brandt described Tyson spinning his tale of a battle, and Brandt’s story became a tale within a tale. Brandt described Moody crying out from the pain, administering morphine to him, and offering tranquilizers to the men, who declined, preferring marijuana and the lieutenant’s Scotch instead.
Brand ended his story by describing the dawn breaking and the men climbing atop the concrete bunker watching the smoke rise from Hue, silhouetted against the rising sun.
Pierce let an appropriate amount of time pass, then asked, “Did anyone in the bunker show any remorse?”
“A few men were quite shaken. But by and large, there was a feeling that the people in the hospital got what was coming to them. This was stated several times and in several ways by different people.”
Pierce, through Brandt, examined the psyches of the men of the first platoon. At five minutes to ten, Pierce said to Brandt, “Did you ever consider reporting the incident as it actually occurred?”
“Yes. Nearly every day. At first, it wasn’t physically possible for me to make contact with anyone who I could report to. But then we were given a brief two-day rest in a rear area. But on the way to camp, a delegation of six or seven men from the platoon took me aside and told me that if the story got out, they would assume it was me who let it out. They further stated that it would do no good to report the incident, anyway, since no one would believe me if everyone else swore that there had been no massacre. They were right about that, of course. Considering the time, place, and general conditions that prevailed, I saw no benefit in reporting what I’d seen. Of course, I should have, and that has been haunting me for nearly twenty years now. So when the opportunity arose to assist the author, Picard, by supplying the details of this incident, I immediately took it. I thought that a book would be an excellent format to tell the story of Miséricorde Hospital. I thought that if the Army and the government wished to pursue it, they would, and I would make myself available for any investigatory or legal proceedings that came out of the book’s revelations. And I did, and that is why I am here.”
Pierce said, “Thank you, Doctor.” Pierce looked at Colonel Sproule.
Sproule looked at his watch and nodded in satisfaction. Sproule announced, “The court will adjourn until ten hundred hours tomorrow.”
Twelve hours after he’d taken the stand, Steven Brandt rose and walked off toward the side door.
CHAPTER
47
At 10 A.M. on Wednesday, Colonel Sproule surveyed the chapel and announced, “The court will come to order.”
Colonel Pierce said, “All parties to the trial who were present when the court adjourned are again present in the court.”
Everyone sat except Pierce, who turned to Corva and asked, “Does the defense wish to cross-examine the last witness?”
Corva replied from his seat, “It does.”
Pierce instructed the sergeant at arms, and within two minutes, Steven Brandt appeared.
Brandt took the witness chair, and Pierce said to him, “You are reminded that you are still under oath.”
Brandt gave a slight wave of the hand in acknowledgment, which seemed an inappropriate gesture.
Tyson lit a cigarette and leaned across the table. He studied Brandt’s face, but there was no sign of any apprehension at having to face a cross-examination.
The spectator section was again full, and Tyson noticed that some people seemed to be in the same seats as the day before, though perhaps he was imagining it. The press corps all seemed to have made friends with one another and with some of the MPs.
Corva was reviewing the previous day’s testimony and made no move to rise and walk toward Steven Brandt, who seemed somewhat confused. Several minutes went by, then Pierce stood and addressed Colonel Sproule, “Your honor, did the defense answer in the affirmative?”
Sproule said to Pierce, “I believe so.” Sproule turned to Corva. “Does the defense wish to cross-examine this witness or not?”
Corva stood. “Yes, your honor.” He came around the table, strode directly to Brandt, and stopped a few feet from him. Corva said to Brandt, “Shoot them.”
Brandt seemed to move farther back in his chair.
“Shoot them,” repeated Corva. “Is that what he said?”
“Yes.”
“To whom did he say it?”
“To . . . Sadowski.”
“And Sadowski replied what?”
“‘Yes, sir.’”
“And what did Sadowski say to elicit the order of ‘Shoot them’?”
“He said, ‘We found wounded and sick NVA.’”
“And Lieutenant Tyson replied what?”
Pierce was on his feet. “Objection. Your honor, counsel is badgering the witness.”
“Objection sustained.”
Corva said to Brandt, “And Sergeant Sadowski left and shot them.”
“Yes.”
“Did you see him shoot them?”
“No.”
“How do you know he shot them?”
“I heard the shots.”
“That is how you know that Sergeant Sadowski shot them.”
“No . . . I heard afterward that he shot them.”
“Who told you this?”
“I don’t recall.”