No Man's Land

75

THE PULLER BROTHERS walked down the hall of one of the world’s great labyrinths. The Pentagon was a place well known to the brothers. They were both in uniform and marched along confident in where they were going.

They had been summoned, by a four-star no less.

Johnny Coleman, Vice Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Though he had no operational command in the position, he was outranked only by the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. And because the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs was with the Air Force, Coleman outranked all the other Army four-stars. Coleman had been one of Fighting John Puller’s junior officers, before going on to carve out a legendary career of his own.

“What do you think he wants?” asked Puller as they walked along.

“It’s either going to be really good news or really bad news,” replied his older brother.

“You heard what happened to Jericho?” asked Puller.

“I heard,” said his brother.

“They never found Rogers.”

“Heard that too.”

“If it was him, how did he find out where she lived? That was classified.”

“No idea,” said Robert.

They reached Coleman’s offices. The flag of the Vice Chair was the American bald eagle with its wings spread horizontally. Its talons gripped three arrows, and thirteen red and white stripes representing the original colonies on a shield. It was a regal and intimidating image, and Coleman presented the same figure.

He was a big man, six-four and north of two-fifty, with a broad, thick chest and a grip of iron. His gray hair was cut very short and his voice was a bullhorn that had been used to lead men for nearly four decades now.

He was in his dress blues, with shelves of medals and ribbons. As he told the brothers as he led them into his interior office, he had a formal event to attend after their meeting.

They sat down in Coleman’s office, the Vice Chair behind his battleship-big desk and the brothers on the other side.

Coleman plunged right in.

“Helluva time for you both and General Puller. Your mother was one of the finest human beings I have ever had the honor to know. It’s a tragedy all around.” He paused and fiddled with a pencil. “I have been briefed on all this. In fact, I inserted myself into this situation chiefly because it was the Puller family. As you know, I served under your father. He taught me more in the two years I was with his command than in the rest of the time I’ve been in the Army. In my mind there has been no better pure fighting officer than your father. At least in my experience.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Robert.

“Now let me get down to it.” He looked at Puller. “Your Army failed you, Chief Puller. You served it faithfully and we did not return the favor. I have been informed what happened three decades ago. I mean what really happened. And I am appalled. And I don’t simply speak for myself. Chairman Halverson has been made aware of this situation and fully supports my position.” He paused again. “In a perfect world, the research project undertaken by Chris Ballard and Claire Jericho three decades ago should never have happened. The murders of those women should not have been covered up. And what happened to your mother…?” He broke the pencil in half. “I know that Jericho has been found dead. Officially, she committed suicide. Now, the whole truth of the matter can still come out. The Army will take its lumps and it should. The deaths of the women, your mother, Jericho, everything. You say the word and all of this comes out. I’m not putting any pressure on you one way or another. I mean that. The Army royally fucked up.”

He sat back and looked at the pair.

Robert and Puller exchanged a single glance, but a lot was communicated during those few moments.

Puller said, “I think the appropriate parties have been punished adequately, sir. And I think the Army has learned a valuable lesson. So, no, it need not be made public.”

Coleman nodded, his face not revealing whether he agreed with this decision or not. He opened his desk drawer and took out a file. He slid on wire-rimmed glasses and looked at the pages.

“As I understand it, your father was not considered a suspect in your mother’s disappearance because he was out of the country. Recently, though, this was found to be incorrect. And then he became a suspect thirty years later.”

“He came back a day early,” noted Puller.

“And this is the reason why.” Coleman slid the file across.

Both brothers looked stunned. Puller turned the file around and the two began to read down the pages. When they were done they both looked up.

Puller said, “He came back to confront Ballard and Jericho?”

Coleman nodded. “This super-soldier program was highly classified but not entirely a secret. Your father was a one-star stationed at Fort Monroe where this program was operational. Now, he was not the commandant of the fort, but that didn’t matter to a man like Fighting John Puller. Wherever he was stationed was his turf and he would defend it with his life if need be.”

Puller said, “So he found out about the program? Jericho told me that she knew my father. And they didn’t exactly see eye to eye on things.”

Coleman said, “Oh they knew each other all right. And eye to eye? Let me put it a little more bluntly. Your father personally thought her work was horseshit, using his term. He told me that war needed to be fought by real men. Real men had to bleed and die. Only then would we not want to fight wars. If we could create robots to do our fighting, he thought, we’d be at war all the time.”

“There’s a lot of wisdom in that philosophy,” noted Robert.

“Your father had seen more combat than just about anyone I knew. He knew how terrible it was. He thought Jericho was a cancer that the Army should just cut out of itself.”

“But he didn’t win that battle?” said Puller slowly.

Coleman shook his head. “Only battle I know the man to have lost. Ballard and Jericho were too well entrenched. They had too many connections. They managed huge budgets that got many an officer promoted up the ranks. It was wrong. It was cronyism at its worst. And it still happened.”

“And our father?”

“He never let it drop. Fought it for years.” He eyed them closely. “And it finally cost him. It cost him dearly.”

Robert got there faster than Puller.

“It cost him his fourth star.”

Coleman nodded. “They couldn’t very well deny him the second and third stars. He flat-out earned those. But when you get to four, there’s more politics than merit. And the stand your father had taken came home to roost, because he had pissed off a lot of people who would determine if he got the fourth star or not. And he didn’t get it. And he was basically forced to retire.”

Coleman stopped and tapped the fourth star on his shoulder. “When I got this pinned on, do you know who I was thinking about? Your old man. He deserved the fourth star far more than I ever did. And ever since I got it part of me has been ashamed that I walk around with it while he never had that honor.”

Coleman sighed and sat back. “I know his current condition. But I want to propose something to both of you.” He paused, seemingly to marshal his thoughts. “We’ve never done this before and it carries no official weight. But I’ve run this up the flagpole and got nothing but salutes from both the brass and the civilian side.” He paused again. “We want to award an honorary fourth star to your father. I wish it could be the real deal, but that’s not possible now. But we want to do this. Out of respect for your father. We want to try to make this, if not right, at least better.” He leaned forward. “What do you say?”

“I say it’s about time,” both Pullers replied simultaneously.