The Last Hour (Thompson Sisters) by Sheehan-Miles, Charles (ebook reader online free .txt) 📗

I wanted to stop and take it all back, but I couldn’t.

Cox said, “Please state your name, rank and component for the record.”

Colton said, “Benjamin E. Colton. Sergeant First Class, Regular Army.”

“Thank you, Sergeant Colton. I’m going to be asking you a number of questions this afternoon regarding your most recent tour in Afghanistan and events which took place during that tour. First, please tell me, do you know Sergeant Raymond Calhoun Sherman?”

“I do,” Colton said.

“And is Sergeant Sherman in this room today?”

“He is.”

“Please identify him for the court.”

Colton met my eyes. He seemed to wince a little, the damaged side of his face not moving at all, but the left eye expressive, narrowing a bit as he pointed and said, “He’s right there at that table.”

Cox said, a little bit theatrically, “Please note for the record that Sergeant First Class Colton indicated the accused.” Then he turned, walked away from Colton, pausing in front of the prosecutor’s table, and turned around.

“Sergeant Colton. When did you first meet the accused?”

“Sherman was assigned to my platoon at Fort Drum when he graduated infantry training at Fort Benning.”

“And what kind of a soldier was he?”

The right side of his face curled up in a slight smile. “He was one of the best soldiers I’ve had the pleasure to lead in my career. He’d only been with us about six months when I recommended he be fast-tracked to become a non-commissioned officer. When he was up for promotion to specialist, we got him Corporal instead.”

Cox gave a slight smile to Colton and said, “For benefit of the members of the board who aren’t combat arms, can you explain the significance of this?”

Elmore leaned close to me and muttered under his breath, “Cox must have read about the infantry in a book or something.”

My lawyer was a fucking comedian.

Colton said, “Once we go out in the field, all of us depend on each other. But an infantry NCO has special responsibility. You have to be able to lead your men, to make the tough decisions. You have to be ready to put other men’s lives on the line for the mission, and to send people into dangerous situations for the safety of the team. What I felt I saw in Sherman was the potential to be an outstanding leader, and he was one. He cared about his men and took care of them.”

Cox nodded. The members of the board were all paying close attention, interest clear on their faces. Cox said, “I’d like to take you forward in time to your actual deployment. How did Sherman perform once you got in a real combat situation?”

“At first, exactly as I’d expected. He was promoted to Sergeant midway through our deployment, in early January, I think. The men respected him. Honestly in some ways I blame myself ... I looked at Sherman almost like he was my son. And like a lot of fathers, I had high expectations. In retrospect, I may have put too much responsibility on him too early.”

I closed my eyes. I’d looked at Colton as a father. And had often felt doubts about my own leadership ability, and whether or not I was cut out to be an infantry sergeant. Hearing Colton say those words was like being punched in the gut.

“Sergeant Colton,” Cox said. “When did you begin to have these doubts?”

Colton sighed. “It was right after we lost Roberts and Kowalski, and Paris was injured. I think Sherman blamed himself, even though there was nothing he could have done to prevent it. But you could see it ... he seemed lost. That’s why, when we got replacements, I made sure he got them in his fire team. I wanted him back in the saddle as soon as possible, so the doubts wouldn’t set in and shake his confidence. But you could see it. He was really shaken. Sherman was close to his team.”

In a low, even voice Cox said, “Sergeant Colton, please tell us what happened on March 24th.”

Elmore murmured in my ear, “Stay chill through this, Sherman. He’s about to start telling lies. Don’t let it get to you.”

The first few answered were what I expected, and didn’t deviate from what I remembered. Colton testified about Weber’s killing, then the fruitless search for the sniper that followed.

“Sergeant Colton ... did your platoon encounter any civilians during this search?”

“Just one,” Colton said, his voice rough. “A boy, maybe eleven or twelve years old.”

“What happened when you encountered the boy?”

Colton looked away from the court-martial board, away from me. And he answered in a monotone, “The men were ... heated. Extremely so. Weber’s killing was so senseless and came out of nowhere. Two or three of the men stopped the boy and began shouting at him.”

“And what did Sergeant Sherman do?”

I stared, looking directly at Colton as he spoke. He avoided my eyes.

“Sherman lost it. He started shouting at the boy. And before I had a chance to do anything, he shot him.”

My heart sank. Of course, I’d heard similar testimony during the Article 32 investigation. But I guess somehow, I’d held out hope. Hope that Colton would recant his testimony, and tell the truth. Hope that the man I’d respected, loved even, would face up to his responsibilities.

“Could it have been an accidental discharge, Sergeant?”

Colton nodded, slowly. “It might have been. It was a crazy, chaotic situation. To be blunt, I feel responsible. I didn’t maintain control of my platoon.”

I closed my eyes, leaning back slightly in my chair. I didn’t want to hear any more. I didn’t even want to think any more.

Sherman went nuts (Carrie)

“Please state your name, rank and component.”

“James Hicks. Sergeant. Regular Army.”

I glanced over to the other side of the room. Stephanie Hicks was in the audience, with a sad, near grief-stricken expression on her face. Sergeant Hicks sat straight in the witness chair, his posture erect, his uniform immaculate. His gaze was directed at the trial counsel, and it