“I wonder who wrote it?” Allston asked.
“No one,” the woman answered. “That’s the way we sing.” Another song leader stepped forward and began to sing. Again, the people joined in. “We’re singing about our families.” The congregation continued to sing until the night wrapped them in safety, temporarily hiding the death and destruction that marked their lives. A rare calm captured Allston, and, for a moment, he was at peace with himself. The TV camera’s bright Video Lights came on and every head turned as the camera panned the audience. They were live for the world.
Air House
Fitzgerald and his wife sat transfixed by the scene on the TV. “Their voices,” she said, “so beautiful. And look at their faces.”
They listened and watched as Tara narrated. “That’s Dr. Tobias Person making his way to the front.” The camera followed Toby as he made his way down the hill, touching people as they extended their hands to him. He stood in front and spoke for a few moments in Nuer, then Dinka. He raised his right hand and chanted a few words of benediction. The congregation responded and the service was over.
Tara walked over to a woman sitting nearby and picked up a three-year-old girl. The camera focused on the little girl’s face and her serious dark eyes. “This is NyaMai. It’s a pretty sounding name but can roughly be translated as ‘Daughter of War.’ Her right arm was shot off by the Janjaweed and her stomach ripped open. Because of the relief efforts of the 4440th, she survived.” The camera followed Tara as she carried the child through the crowd, finally finding Allston. “Colonel,” Tara called. “This is someone you need to meet.” She handed the child over to Allston.
The little girl threw her left arm around Allston’s neck and buried her cheek next to his. She whispered the first words of English that she had learned into his ear, “Thank you.”
Allston said nothing and only held the child, taking her into his heart.
Tara smiled for the camera. “I hope you remember NyaMai. You met her the first day you were in the Sudan. It was in the village of Abyei when you and your crew delivered a load of food and medical supplies.” The camera zoomed back and framed the beautiful actress with Allston and the child.
“You saved her life,” Tara said. She turned to the camera and it zoomed in on her face. “This little band of peacekeepers made up of a few Americans and French legionnaires, along with four old and worn-out C-130s, are making a difference in this devastated land. They are all we have sent to stop the killing and destruction. They alone are the conscience of the world.”
The camera panned back over the watching Africans, capturing Allston as he held NyaMai. She looked at the camera with hope and confidence as if to announce “I am here.”
“I’m Tara Scott and these are the people of South Sudan. They need our help.” The broadcast cut to the studio in New York.
Fitzgerald’s wife held his hand. “John, you old softie. Don’t you try to hide those tears.”
“What tears?” the general grumbled. The phone rang and he answered. It was the duty officer from Public Affairs. He nodded and smiled before breaking the connection. “Well, it seems we’ve got a celebrity in our midst. The media is doing cartwheels over Mad Dawg.” He stood and stretched. “I’ve got to go to work.” That was the man his wife knew.
EIGHTEEN
E-Ring
The two generals ambled down the corridor, making the short walk to the Secretary of Defense’s office. General Misner, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, tried to play it straight. “Fitz, I’m assuming you didn’t have a clue about Sixty Minutes yesterday.”
Fitzgerald was absolutely honest. “I knew the general format but had no idea what Miss Scott would say.”
“Well, I can tell you the Speaker of the House has egg all over his face and is pissed off something mightily. The President is not very happy, which means the Sec Def is even more unhappy. By the way, have you seen the morning news?” He answered his own question. “Thanks to Miss Scott and Sixty Minutes, you’d think we walk on water. Talk about an ‘atta boy.”
“A thousand ‘atta boys,’” Fitzgerald cautioned, “are cancelled by one ‘ah shit,’ especially if it is a political ‘ah shit.’”
“Not this time,” Misner replied. They reached the Secretary’s offices and were escorted into the small adjoining conference room. The head lawyer of the White House’s Office of Legal Counsel, OLC for short, the Speaker of the House’s chief of staff, and the Air Force’s Judge Advocate General, Major General Aaron Forney, were sitting in the conference room. Misner shot Fitzgerald a warning look. “I may have been wrong about the ‘atta boy.’” Silence ruled the room as the two generals sat down next to Forney and opposite the two men from across the river.
The Secretary of Defense came through the door and sat at the head of the table. “Well, gentlemen,” he began, “it appears we have a problem. If I may summarize, the Speaker of the House claims we have lost control of the 4440th and have a loose cannon on our hands in the person of Lieutenant Colonel David Allston. The White House shares that concern. To that end, the Office of Legal Counsel is trying to determine exactly what laws Lieutenant Colonel Allston violated by participating in that unauthorized raid on Bentiu Thursday night.”
The OLC lawyer jumped in. “At this point, you need to immediately recall Allston and place him under house arrest. That will keep him in our jurisdiction until you can bring charges for a court martial. Failing that, Justice will have to intervene.”
“To the best of my knowledge,” Fitzgerald said, “Allston has not violated any article of the UCMJ, no order, nor any directive. In fact, he was following a specific order from the UN when he supported the French peacekeepers in the raid.” He handed Forney a single sheet of paper. “Colonel Allston was given this standing operations order by the United Nations Peacekeeping Mission the second day he was in Africa. That was on April eighth of this year.” The silence grew even heavier as Forney read the order.
“If I may quote the relevant passage,” the JAG began, “‘You are hereby directed to respond to any request for support, to include airlift, by the peacekeeping contingent under the command of Colonel Pierre Vermullen, La Lègion Ètrangère. Further, any such request will be considered as a direct order by this Mission and will take priority over relief airlift.’” He passed the order to the Secretary of Defense. “It is a valid order, duly signed and dated, and it was transmitted, received, and understood.” The Secretary passed the order to the OLC lawyer and the Speaker’s man.
They read it in silence. “General Fitzgerald,” the lawyer finally asked, “has this order been modified or rescinded since it was issued?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“Why hasn’t my office seen this before?” the lawyer asked.
“Colonel Allston notified my office the day after he received it,” Fitzgerald said. “At the time, I considered it clarification of his status with the UN. In short, it was an internal matter.”
“May I add,” Misner said, “that the command and control of the 4440th was taken away from AFRICOM and placed under the UN Peacekeeping Mission, effectively removing us from the loop.” Every head turned to the Speaker’s chief of staff. The Speaker had been instrumental in making that happen.