The General's Daughter - The General's Daughter Part 43
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The General's Daughter Part 43

I got the impression, though he didn't address the issue directly, that his daughter expected him to see to it that justice was done, that there was no question that she'd been brutally raped, and that the men who'd done it were to be expelled from the military academy and prosecuted.

These, of course, were reasonable expectations for a young woman who'd been trying her damnedest to live up to Daddy's expectations, who had put up with all the hardships that were part of life at West Point, and who had been criminally assaulted.

But there were some problems, it seemed. First, there was the question of Cadet Campbell being alone with five men in the woods at night. How did she get separated from the forty-person patrol? By accident? On purpose? Second, Cadet Campbell could not identify the men. They not only wore camouflage paint, but they had mosquito nets over their faces. It was so dark, she couldn't even identify the uniforms and could not say for certain if the men were other cadets, West Point cadre, or soldiers from the 82nd Airborne Division. In all, there were close to a thousand men and women on training exercises that night, and the chance of her identifying her five attackers was almost nil, according to what General Campbell had been told.

But this was not precisely true, as Cynthia and I knew. By process of elimination, you could begin to narrow the field. And as you got closer to the perpetrators, it was inevitable that one of them would crack to save himself from long jail time. And also you had semen tests, saliva tests, hair tests, fingerprints, and all the other magic of forensic science. In fact, gang rapes were easier to solve than solitary rapes, and I knew that, Cynthia certainly knew it, and I strongly suspected that General Campbell knew it.

The real problem was not identifying who did it; the problem was that the rapists were either cadets, cadre, or soldiers. The problem was not in the area of police science, but in the area of public relations.

Basically, it came down to the fact that five erect penises penetrated one vagina, and the entire United States Army Military Academy at West Point could be torn apart in the same act that had torn Ann Campbell's hymen imperforatus. These were the times that we lived in; rape was not an act of sex-consensual sex is easily available. Rape was an act of violence, a breach of military order and discipline, an affront to the West Point code of honor, a definitive no vote against a co-ed academy, against women in the Army, against female officers, and against the notion that women could coexist with men in the dark woods of Camp Buckner, or the hostile environment of the battlefield.

The exclusive male domain of West Point had been infiltrated by people who squatted to piss in the woods, as that colonel at the O Club bar would put it. During the academic year, in the classroom, it wasn't intolerable. But out in the woods, in the hot summer night, in the dark, men will revert to ancient modes of behavior.

The entire field training experience, as I remember too well, was a call to arms, a call to war, a call to bravery, and an intentional imitation of a primitive rite of passage for young men. There were no women in the woods when I took my training, and if there had been, I would have felt sorry for them and been frightened for them.

But the people in Washington and the Pentagon had heard and heeded the call to equality. It was a good call, a necessary call, a long-overdue call. And certainly attitudes and perceptions had changed since I was a young man training for Vietnam. But not everyone's attitudes changed, and the move to equality proceeded at different paces in different sections of the national life. There are glitches in the system, little pockets of resistance, situational behavior, primitive stirrings in the loins. This is what happened on a night in August ten years before. The commandant of West Point did not announce that a hundred women in the woods with a thousand men did not get raped during recondo training. And he wasn't about to announce that one did.

So the people in Washington, in the Pentagon, at the Academy, had reasoned with General Joseph Campbell. And, as he related it to Cynthia and me, it certainly sounded reasonable. Better to have one unreported and unvindicated rape than to rock the very foundations of West Point, to cause doubts about a co-ed academy, to cast suspicion on a thousand innocent men who did not gang-rape a woman that night. All the general had to do was to convince his daughter that she-as well as the Academy, the Army, the nation, and the cause of equality- would best be served if she just forgot about the whole thing.

Ann Campbell was given a drug to prevent pregnancy, she was tested and retested for sexually communicated diseases, her mother flew in from Germany and brought her a favorite childhood doll, her cuts and bruises healed, and everyone held their breath.

Daddy was convincing, Mommy was not as convinced. Ann trusted Daddy, and, at twenty years old, for all her world travel as a military brat, she was still Daddy's girl and she wanted to please him, so she forgot she was raped. But later, she remembered, which was why we were all sitting in the general's office that evening.

So that was the sad story, and the general's voice cracked now and then, got husky, got quiet. I heard Cynthia sniffle a few times, too, and I'd be a liar if I said I didn't feel a lump in my throat.

The general stood but motioned us to remain seated. He said, "Excuse me a moment." He disappeared through a door, and we could hear water running. As melodramatic as it sounds now, I almost expected to hear a gunshot.

Cynthia kept her eye on the door and said softly, "I understand why he did what he did, but as a woman, I'm outraged."

"As a man, I'm outraged, too, Cynthia. Five men have a memory of a fun night, and here we are dealing with the mess. Five men, if they were all cadets, went on to graduate and become officers and gentlemen. They were classmates of hers and probably saw her every day. Indirectly, or perhaps directly, they were responsible for her death. Certainly they were responsible for her mental condition."

Cynthia nodded. "And if they were soldiers, they went back to their post and bragged about how they all fucked this little West Point bitch cadet."

"Right. And they got away with it."

General Campbell returned and sat again. After a while, he said, "So you see, I got what I deserved, but Ann was the one who paid for my betrayal. Within months of the incident, she went from a warm, outgoing, and friendly girl to a distrustful, quiet, and withdrawn woman. She did well at the Point, graduated in the top of her class, and went on to postgraduate school. But things were never the same between us, and I should have thought of that consequence of my behavior." He added, "I lost my daughter when she lost her faith in me." He took a deep breath. "You know, it feels good to talk it out."

"Yes, sir."

"You know about her promiscuousness, and professionals have explained to me what that was all about. It wasn't just that she was trying to corrupt the people around me or to embarrass me. She was saying to me, 'You thought nothing of my chastity, my decision to remain a virgin until I was ready, so what I'm giving to every man who wants it is nothing you care about. So don't lecture me.' "

I nodded but could not and would not comment.

The general said, "So the years pass, and she arrives here. Not by accident, but by design. A person in the Pentagon, a person who was closely involved with the West Point decision, strongly suggested that I consider two options. One, that I leave the service so that Ann might decide to leave also or might decide that her misbehavior was no longer profitable." He added, "They were quite honestly afraid to ask for her resignation, because she obviously had something on the Army, though she never had a name. My second option was to take this uncoveted command at Fort Hadley, where the Psy-Ops School has its subcommand. They said they would have Ann transferred here, which would be a natural career assignment for her, and I could solve the problem in close quarters. I chose the second option, though my resignation would not have been unusual after the success in the Gulf and my years of service." He added, "However, she told me once that if I ever accepted a White House appointment, or ever accepted a political nomination, she would go public with this story. In effect, I was being held hostage in the Army by my daughter, and my only options were to stay or to retire into private life."

So, I thought, that explained General Campbell's coyness regarding political office or a presidential appointment. Like everything else about this case, this Army post, and the people here, what you saw, and what you heard, were not what was actually happening.

He looked around his office as though seeing it for the first time, or the last time. He said, "So I chose to come here to try to make amends, to try to rectify not only my mistake but the mistake of my superiors, many of whom are still in the service or in public life, and most of whose names you would know." He paused and said, "I'm not blaming my superiors for putting pressure on me. It was wrong what they did, but the ultimate decision to cooperate in the cover-up was mine. I thought I was doing what I did for good and valid reasons-for Ann and for the Army-but in the final analysis, they were not good reasons, and I was selling out my daughter for myself." He added, "Within a year of the incident, I had my second star."

At the risk of sounding too empathetic, I said, "General, you are responsible for everything your subordinates do or fail to do. But in this case, your superiors betrayed you. They had no right to ask that of you."

"I know. They know. All that talent, experience, and brainpower, and there we were meeting in a motel room in upstate New York in the middle of the night, like criminals talking ourselves into a completely dishonorable and stupid decision. But we're human, and we make bad decisions. However, had we truly been men of honor and integrity, as we said we were, we'd have reversed that bad decision no matter what the cost."

I couldn't have agreed more, and he knew it, so I didn't say it. I said instead, "So for two years, you and your daughter engaged in close-quarter hand-to-hand combat."

He smiled grimly. "Yes. It turned out to be not a healing process at all. It was war, and she was better prepared for it than I was. She had right on her side, and that made for might. She beat me at every turn, while I offered to make peace. I thought, if she won, she'd accept my apology and sincere regrets. It tore me apart, as a father, to see what she was doing to herself and her mother. I didn't care about myself any longer. But I was also concerned for the men she was using..." He added, "Though in some odd way, I was happy just to have her around on any terms. I missed her, and I miss her now."

Cynthia and I sat quietly and listened to him breathe. Clearly, the man had aged ten years in the last few days, and probably another ten in the last two years. It struck me that this was not the same man who had returned in triumph and glory from the Gulf not so long ago. It was amazing, I thought, how even kings and emperors and generals could be brought down by domestic discord, by the wrath and fury of a wronged woman. Somehow, amid all the sophistication and diversions of this world, we forgot the basics: take care of business at home first, and never betray your blood.

I said to him, "Tell us about rifle range six, and then we'll leave you, General."

He nodded. "Yes... well, I saw her there on the ground, and... and I... I honestly thought at first that she'd been assaulted... but then she called out to me... she said, 'Here's the answer to your damned ultimatum.'

"I didn't understand at first what she was talking about, but then, of course, I remembered what they'd done to her at West Point. She asked me where her mother was, and I told her that her mother didn't know anything about this. She called me a damned coward, then she said, 'Do you see what they did did to me? Do you to me? Do you see see what they did to me?' And I... I did see... I mean, if her purpose was to make me what they did to me?' And I... I did see... I mean, if her purpose was to make me see, see, then she achieved her purpose." then she achieved her purpose."

"And what did you say to her, General?"

"I... just called out to her... 'Ann, you didn't have to do this.' But she was... she was wild with anger, as though she'd completely lost her sanity. She yelled out for me to come closer, to see what they did to her, to see what she'd suffered. She went on like that for some time, then she said since I'd given her some choices, she was going to give me some choices." General Campbell paused a moment, then continued. "She said she had a rope around her neck... and I could strangle her if I wanted to... or I could cover this up like I did once before... I could come and untie her and take her away... take her to Beaumont House... to her mother. She also said I could leave her there, and the MPs or the guards or someone would find her, and she'd tell the MPs everything. Those were my choices."

Cynthia asked, "And did you go to her and try to untie her, as you told us you did?"

"No... I couldn't. I didn't go near her... I didn't try to untie her... I just stood near the car, then... I completely snapped. My anger and rage at all those years of trying to make things right got the best of me... I shouted back at her that I didn't give a damn what they'd done to her ten years ago... I told her I was going to leave her there and let the guards or the MPs find her, or the first platoon who came out to fire on the range or whoever, and that the whole world could see her naked for all I cared, and-" He stopped in midsentence and looked down at the floor, then continued. "I told her she couldn't hurt me anymore, and then she started shouting this Nietzsche junk-'whatever hurts you makes me stronger, what does not destroy me makes me stronger,' and so on. I said that the only hold she had over me was my rank and my position, and that I was resigning from the service, and that she had destroyed any feelings I had for her and that she had more than equaled the score."

The general poured himself some water from a carafe and drank it, then continued, "She said that was fine, that was good... 'Let someone else find me-you never helped me... ' Then she started to cry, and she couldn't stop crying, but I thought I heard her say... she said, 'Daddy'..." He stood. "Please... I can't..."

We stood also. I said, "Thank you, General." We turned and made toward the door before he began crying, but a thought came into my head, and I turned back to him and said, "Another death in the family won't solve anything. It's not the manly thing to do. It's very cowardly." But his back was toward us, and I don't know if he even heard me.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE.

I drove out of the Post Headquarters parking lot, went a few hundred meters, then pulled off to the side of the road. A sort of delayed reaction to the interview came over me, and I actually felt shaky. I said, "Well, we know now why the lab people found dried tears on her cheeks." drove out of the Post Headquarters parking lot, went a few hundred meters, then pulled off to the side of the road. A sort of delayed reaction to the interview came over me, and I actually felt shaky. I said, "Well, we know now why the lab people found dried tears on her cheeks."

Cynthia said, "I feel sick."

"I need a drink."

She took a deep breath. "No. We have to finish this. Where's Moore?"

"He'd damned well better be someplace on post." I put the Blazer into gear and headed toward the Psy-Ops School.

On the way, Cynthia said, as if to herself, "But in the end, the general did not abandon his daughter this time the way he did at West Point. He left her on the rifle range in a fit of rage, but somewhere on the road, he realized that this was the last chance for both of them."

She thought a moment, then continued, "He probably considered turning around, but then he thought about what he would need-a knife if the rope needed to be cut, clothing, a woman's presence. Those attentions to detail that are drummed into us overcame his shock and confusion, and he drove to Bethany Hill, to the one man on this post that he could trust." Cynthia paused, then asked, "When the Fowlers got there, I wonder if they thought that the general strangled her?"

I replied, "It may have crossed their minds. But when they got back to the house and told him she was dead... they must have seen the shock and disbelief on his face."

Cynthia nodded. "Would they... should they have cut her loose and taken the body away?"

"No. Colonel Fowler knew that moving the body would only make matters worse. And I'm sure that Colonel Fowler, with his military experience, could determine that she was definitely dead. And as to any suspicion that he himself killed her, I'm sure he blessed the moment when he, the general, or Mrs. Fowler herself suggested that she go along."

"Yes, if it were Colonel Fowler alone, he'd be in a bad position."

I considered a moment, then said, "So we know that, aside from the victim, four other people were out there-Colonel Moore, the general, and Colonel and Mrs. Fowler. And we don't think any of them was the murderer. So we have to place a fifth person out there during that critical half-hour window of opportunity." I added, "That person, of course, is the killer."

Cynthia nodded, "Maybe we should have asked General Campbell if he had any idea who it was who arrived during that half hour."

"I think he believes it was Colonel Moore. If he thought it was anyone else, he'd have told us. I don't think it has occurred to him that Moore was the accomplice, not the killer. Bottom line, I just couldn't push the guy any further."

"I know. I hate to interview a victim's family. I get all emotional..."

"You did fine. I did fine. The general did fine."

I pulled into the Psy-Ops School, but Moore's car was not in its reserved spot. I drove around, past the school's dining facility, but we didn't see the gray Ford. I said, "If that SOB left post, I'll put his ass in a meat grinder."

An MP jeep pulled up alongside me, and our old friend, Corporal Stroud, was in the passenger seat. "You looking for Colonel Moore, Chief?"

"None other."

Stroud smiled. "He went to see the provost marshal to get his restriction lifted."

"Thanks." I turned around and headed toward main post. I said to Cynthia, "I'm going to nail his ass to the wall."

"What happened to the meat grinder?"

"That, too."

I drove to main post, and, as I approached the provost marshal's building, I noticed that the news media were still there. I parked on the road directly in front of the main doors, and Cynthia and I got out and climbed the steps. We entered the building and went directly to Kent's office. His clerk said he was in conference.

"With Colonel Moore?"

"Yes, sir."

I opened his door, and there in Kent's office was Colonel Moore, Kent, and another man in uniform, a captain. Kent said to us, "Well, I guess I'm glad you're here."

The third man stood, and I saw by his branch insignia that he was a JAG officer-a lawyer. The man, whose name tag said Collins, asked me, "Are you Warrant Officer Brenner?"

"I'll ask the questions, Captain."

"I guess you are," he said. "Colonel Moore has requested that he be represented by counsel, so anything you have to say to him-"

"I'll say to him."

Moore was still sitting in front of Kent's desk and was pointedly not looking up. I said to Moore, "I'm placing you under arrest. Come with me."

Captain Collins motioned for his client to remain seated and said to me, "What is the charge?"

"Conduct unbecoming an officer and a gentleman."

"Oh, really, Mr. Brenner, that's a silly, catch-all-"

"Plus, Article 134, disorders and neglects, and so forth. Plus, accessory after the fact, conspiracy, and making false statements. Plus, Captain, you are on the verge of Article 98, noncompliance with procedural rules."

"How dare you?"

I asked Kent, "Do you have two sets of cuffs handy?"

Colonel Kent looked worried now. He said, "Paul, we have some questions of law and fact here. You can't arrest-well, you can, but I'm in the middle of a conversation with a suspect and his lawyer-"

"Colonel Moore is not a suspect in the murder, so there's no reason for a conversation, and if there were a reason, I'd be having the conversation, not you, Colonel."

"Damn it, Brenner, you've gone too far-"

"Colonel, I'm taking my prisoner out of here." I said to Moore, "Stand up."

Without a glance toward his lawyer, he stood.

"Come with me."

Cynthia and I left Kent's office with poor Colonel Moore in tow.

We escorted him down the corridors and into the holding cells. Most of the cells were empty, and I found an open door right next to Dalbert Elkins. I gave Moore a little nudge into the cell and slammed the door shut.

Dalbert Elkins looked at Moore, then at me, and said in a surprised tone, "Hey, Chief, that's a full colonel."

I ignored Elkins and said to Moore, "You're charged with what I said before. You have the right to remain silent, you have the right to counsel of your choice."

Moore spoke for the first time, reminding me, "I have have counsel. You just threatened to arrest him." counsel. You just threatened to arrest him."

"Right. And anything you say may be held against you in a court-martial."

"I don't know who did it."

"Did I say you did?"

"No... but..."

Dalbert Elkins was following all this closely. He said to Moore through the bars, "Colonel, you shouldn't get a lawyer. It makes him mad."

Moore glanced at Elkins, then turned his attention back to me. "Colonel Kent informed me that I was restricted to post, so I had no choice but to seek counsel-"

"Now you're worse than restricted. You're confined."

Dalbert said, "They're letting me out. Restricted to barracks. Thanks, Chief."