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"Holy shit! Let's get out of here!" gasped one of the conscripts.
"What the hell do you think you've done, Fitz?" demanded another, horrified.
Fitz ignored them. He leaned down and grabbed both of the drunk NCOs by the throats. Neither was a
particularly large man. The little Vat they'd been beating was even smaller than SmallMac. "Is he okay?"
SmallMac shook his head. "Hard to tell. He's not really conscious. Blood coming out of his ears by the
feel of it. Let's get him to sick bay."
One of the drunks began to struggle. Fitz brought their heads together with a crack and tossed them
aside. SmallMac was already staggering to his feet with his burden. They linked arms to form a chair.
And ran. Three of the others ran too, heading for their tent with as much speed as possible. The other
two came along to the sick bay. One of them actually had the forethought to run ahead and pound on the
door. There was always a medic on duty.
When it opened . . . Fitzhugh realized that things could get a lot worse. Two medic NCOs, the camp
doctor, and Major Ogata were all there playing cards on one of the examination beds.
"What is it?" asked the medic who had opened the door, plainly not pleased.
"Emergency, sir. We found this man. He's been beaten up, sir. He's unconscious."
"Bring him in. Get him onto the examination bed."
Fitz and SmallMac complied.
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"Christ! I want an IV line up on this kid," snapped the doctor.
The doctor and medics moved into action.
That left the four of them . . . and Major Ogata, who had moved against the far wall to allow them
passage. Ogata, with JAG flashes on his shoulders, had arrived in the camp three days before. Nobody
knew quite what he was doing here, but he had been taking some bangstick drills. "Stand," he ordered
coldly, as they attempted to melt back to the open door. "Just what happened here?" he asked. He
pointed to one of the young Vats in the group. "You speak."
The youngster looked around, nervously. "We were on our way back from KP, sir. We . . . we found
that private in the alley between Q-stores and the chaplain's offices, sir. We brought him here."
"You had no part in beating him up?" All of them shook their heads.
"We wouldn't have brought him in if we had, sir," said SmallMac earnestly.
The major looked at them with cold speculation. "Maybe. And maybe you realized that you or perhaps
your companions had gone too far? You know who did this."
"Sir, KP ends at 2100," said Fitz, calmly. "Look at the time now, sir. We haven't had time to administer
that kind of beating."
Ogata looked at his watch. Looked at the doc and his two medics. Then, nodded.
"Two men have been killed in this camp, and a number of others have ended up seriously injured. As yet
no one has been prepared to testify. I have been sent here by the Attorney General to put a stop to it."
With a ghost of a smile he said "The army doesn't want soldiers dying before they reach the front."
The major's eyes narrowed. "If I have to drill this entire camp until half of you end up as clients for the
lieutenant" he pointed to the doctor who was helping the medics to get the boy onto a stretcher "I will
find out who did this. I'll need all of your names and numbers. Then you can get yourselves back to your
tents." He jerked a thumb at the victim, now being carried through to the military ambulance. "He doesn't
need you anymore."
As far as Fitz could see it was a lose-lose situation, especially for the four of them. All the
conscript-boots dropping dead on the parade ground weren't going to affect the guilty parties in this case.
On the other hand . . . If they grassed . . . the instructors would see that they suffered in interesting ways.
And Fitz by now had a grunt conscript's faith in the fairness of the system: ten to one, the two
corporals would get off while they carried the can.
Just then fate, in the shape of two drunken corporals, intervened. They also obviously did not expect the
sick bay to be occupied by anything more than one easily intimidated medic. And they were less than
observant as they barged in and turned on the four privates.
"All right, you lot of little scabs! Where's Margolis? We haven't finished with him. Or you. Especially
you," one of them snarled at Fitz.
Standing against the wall behind them, Ogata cleared his throat. "I think I have solved that little mystery."
The two corporals turned, and looked in horror at the pips and JAG flashes. As one they tried to bolt.
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"Halt!" yelled Ogata. They didn't.
"Privates! Catch those two. Restrain them," snapped Ogata.
It was not an opportunity that came the average boot's way very often. An order from heaven, as it
were. By the time the two corporals had been caught and "restrained" one by SmallMac with his
powerful horse-breaker's legs applying a life-threatening scissors, and the other by being sat on a
number of scores from the last five and half weeks had been settled. Then a squad of guards and the
guard commander arrived at a run.
Ogata looked grimly at the two prisoners hauled before him. Sniffed. "I'll want blood samples from these
two when the Doc gets back. And I want sworn statements. Now. Before anyone gets either intimidated
or clever."
He turned to one of the guard detachment. "Get me Lieutenant Belsen. I'll use the doctor's room for the
statements. I'll want these men one at a time. There will be no discussion amongst them." He turned to
Fitz and his companions. "I advise you strongly to stick to the bald truth. If one of your statements does
not agree . . . you will be subjected to further investigation and charged."
The lieutenant arrived at a run. He was a young, rather sadistic and sarcastic man, a once-minor
Shareholder who obviously enjoyed controlling life and death for a large number of conscripts. The camp
commandant was a bumbling and mediocre career officer. Belsen's overeagerness appeared to give the
old man dyspepsia. But the lieutenant stepped a wide and wary berth around Ogata.
Fitz's turn came. He stuck to the truth. Under the circumstances it seemed like pretty good advice. The
major, and the lieutenant who wrote it all down, seemed satisfied.
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