I've spoken with him a few times about home, and complained about the weather or the food " "Is he a friend of yours, lieutenant?" Major
Clark abruptly demanded.
"No more, no less than anyone in the camp, sir," Tommy answered sharply. Major Clark nodded.
"And," Colonel MacNamara steadily continued, "how would you characterize your relationship with Lieutenant Scott?"
"I have no relationship, sir. No one does. I made an effort to be friendly, but that was it."
MacNamara paused, then asked: "You witnessed the altercation between the two men in their bunk room?"
"No sir. I arrived after the men had been separated, only seconds before yourself and Major Clark entered the room."
"But you heard threats made?"
"Yes sir."
The SAO nodded.
"And then, I'm told, there was a subsequent incident at the wire…"
"I would not characterize it as an incident, sir. Perhaps a misunderstanding of the rules that might have had fatal results."
"Which, I'm told, you prevented by shouting a warning."
"Perhaps. It happened swiftly."
"Would you say that this incident served to increase or further exacerbate already tense feelings between the two officers?"
Tommy paused. He had no idea what the men were driving at, but told himself to keep his answers short. He could see that both Americans and the German were paying close attention to everything he said. He warned himself inwardly to be cautious.
"Sir, what's going on?" he asked.
"Just answer the question, lieutenant."
"There was tension between the men, sir. I believe it was racial in nature, although Captain Bedford denied that to me in one conversation.
Whether it was increased or not, I wouldn't know."
"They hated each other, correct?"
"I could not say that."
"Captain Bedford hates the Negro race and made no effort to hide that fact from Lieutenant Scott, is that not true?"
"Captain Bedford is outspoken, sir. On any number of topics."
"Would you think it safe," Colonel MacNamara asked slowly, "to say that Lieutenant Scott would likely have felt threatened by Captain
Bedford?"
"It would probably be hard for him not to. But-" Major Clark snorted an interruption.
"The Negro is here for less than two weeks and already we have a fight where he takes a cheap shot at a brother officer, and higher-ranking to boot, we have probably well-founded accusations of theft, and then an alleged incident at the wire…" He stopped abruptly, then asked, "You're from Vermont-correct, Hart?
There are no Negro problems in Vermont that I know of, correct?"
"Yes sir. Manchester, Vermont. And we don't have any problems that
I'm aware of, sir. But we're not currently in Manchester, Vermont."
"That is obvious, lieutenant," Clark said sharply, his voice rising slightly with anger.
Von Reiter, who had been sitting quietly, spoke out briskly.
"I would think the lieutenant would be an appropriate choice for your task, colonel, judging from the careful way he answers your inquiries.
You are a lawyer, not a soldier, lieutenant, this is true?"
"I was in my final year at Harvard Law School when I enlisted. Right after Pearl Harbor."
"Ah." Von Reiter smiled, but humorlessly.
"Harvard. A justly famed institution for learning. I attended the
University of Heidelberg, myself. I intended to become a physician, until my country summoned me."
Colonel MacNamara coughed, clearing his voice.
"Were you aware of Captain Bedford's combat record, lieutenant?"
"No sir."
"A Distinguished Flying Cross with oak clusters. A Purple Heart. A
Silver Star for action above Germany. He did his tour of twenty-five, then volunteered for a second tour. More than thirty-two missions before being shot down-" Von Reiter interrupted.
"A most decorated and impressive flier, lieutenant. A war hero." The commandant wore a shining black iron cross on a ribbon around his own neck, and he fingered it as he spoke.
"An adversary that any fighter of the air would respect."
"Yes sir," Tommy said.
"But I don't understand…"
Colonel MacNamara took a deep breath and then spoke sullenly, in a voice of barely restrained rage.
"Captain Vincent Bedford of the United States Army Air Corps was murdered sometime after lights out last night here within the confines of Stalag Luft Thirteen."
Tommy's jaw dropped open slightly.
"Murdered, but how…"
"Murdered by Lieutenant Lincoln Scott," MacNamara said briskly.
"I don't believe-" "There is ample evidence, lieutenant," Major Clark interrupted sharply.
"Enough to court-martial him today."
"But…" "Of course, we won't do that. Not today, at least. But soon."
We expect to form a military court of justice shortly to hear the charges against Lieutenant Scott. The Germans"-and here MacNamara made a small gesture toward Commandant Von Reiter-"have consented to allow us to do this. In addition, they will comply with the court's sentence. Whatever it might be."
Von Reiter nodded.
"We request only that I be allowed to assign an officer to observe all details of the case, so that he may report the outcome to my superiors in Berlin. And, of course, should a firing squad be necessitated, we would provide the men. You Americans, surely, would be present at any execution, though-" "A what? "Tommy blurted.
"You're joking, sir."
No one" of course, was joking, a fact he understood instantly.
He took a deep breath. His head seemed to spin dizzily, and he struggled to keep control. He detected that his voice had risen when he asked, "But what do you want from me, sir?" He directed the question to Colonel MacNamara.
"We would like you to represent the accused, lieutenant."
"Me, sir? But I'm not-" "You have the legal knowledge. Your bunk is filled with texts on the law, surely there's something there about military justice. And your task is relatively simple. You need merely to make certain that Lieutenant Scott's military and constitutional rights are protected while justice is done."
"But, sir-" Major Clark snapped his interruption sharply: "Look, Hart.
It's an open-and-shut case. We have evidence. We have witnesses. We have motive. We have opportunity. We have well-documented hatred. And we damn well don't want a riot on our hands when the rest of the camp finds out that a damn nig…" he started, then stopped, paused, and rephrased his sentence "… when the camp finds out Lieutenant Scott killed an extremely popular, well-known, and highly respected, decorated, and dedicated officer. And killed him in a brutal, savage fashion. We will not have a lynching, lieutenant.