head.”
“All of them?”
“Well, a few didn’t have much left for heads, and one didn’t have any head at all, but from what we could tell, yeah, about all of them.”
“Why didn’t Milosevic and his people make hay of that in the press conferences?”
“You’ll really have to ask him, General. I do recommend, however, that you wait until it’s morning over here. From what I hear, he’s not as nice a guy as I am.”
“That’s a debatable point. Are you getting sufficient cooperation?”
“Sure. They love us around here.We got the best tents in the compound.”
“We got your request for Milosevic to postpone his state funeral and hold on to the bodies.”
“Good. The coroner’s sending one through his channels, too.” “Won’t make any difference. I took yours over to the State Department and got laughed out of the building.”
“Did you meet with these two guys, one real tall and skinny, and one real short and fat?”
“Sounds like them.”
“Likable couple, aren’t they? The Laurel and Hardy of international diplomacy.”
“They liked you a lot, too. They studied your request and the words ‘fat chance’ and ‘fathead’ got mentioned a few times.”
“A fella can’t ask for much more than that, can he?” “How damaging will it be if the request is denied?”
“It creates an opening for a good defense attorney to poke a few holes.”
“Well, nothing more to be done about that. Need anything else from me, Sean?”
“No, sir. But thanks for asking.”
He hung up, and I hung up, and it took a few minutes before I dozed off again. Major General Thomas Clapper was the closest thing to a friend I had in this case. He had taught me military law way back when he was a major and I was a brand-new lieutenant going through my basic officer’s training. If I wasn’t the worst student he ever had, the other guy must have been a stone-cold putz. One can only imagine his dismay when, four or five years later, I approached him to ask if he would sponsor my application to law school and the JAG Corps. I’ve never understood what went through his brain at that instant, but he said yes, and the rest is legal history.
Unlike my own lethargic career, Thomas Clapper was always on a fast track. He was now the two-star general who headed up the corps of Army lawyers. This is the largest law firm in the world, with offices spread around the globe, handling everything from criminal to contracts to real estate law. It is a corps of over a thousand military lawyers and judges and more than twice as many legal specialists of various varieties. It is a corner of the Army few people know exists, filled with grating personalities, oversize egos, and rawly ambitious lawyers. It takes an iron-fisted tyrant to keep all those egos in check, although Clapper was seen as a benevolent dictator, and thus was very beloved by the rank and file. Although not by me. Not at that moment. Clapper just happened to be the guy who threw my name into the hat to head this pre-court-martial investigation, and I knew he was calling to assuage his guilt. I wasn’t about to offer him any clemency. I wanted his guilt to be so massive it gave him walloping headaches.
The next call came about an hour and a half later, and the caller identified himself as Jeremy Berkowitz. Even at 3:30 A.M .,
I recognized the name. Berkowitz was a reporter for the
Washington Herald
who had earned a handsome reputation by exposing lots of embarrassing military insights and scandals. That call went something like this:
“You’re Major Sean Drummond?”
“Says so on my nametag.”
“Heh, heh, that’s a good one. My name’s Jeremy Berkowitz. A common friend gave me your number.”
“Name that friend, would you? I’d like to choke him.”
This resulted in another nice chuckle, and it struck me that everyone in that time zone back in Washington was filled with good humor that day.
“Hey, you know the rules. A good reporter never
“All of them?”
“Well, a few didn’t have much left for heads, and one didn’t have any head at all, but from what we could tell, yeah, about all of them.”
“Why didn’t Milosevic and his people make hay of that in the press conferences?”
“You’ll really have to ask him, General. I do recommend, however, that you wait until it’s morning over here. From what I hear, he’s not as nice a guy as I am.”
“That’s a debatable point. Are you getting sufficient cooperation?”
“Sure. They love us around here.We got the best tents in the compound.”
“We got your request for Milosevic to postpone his state funeral and hold on to the bodies.”
“Good. The coroner’s sending one through his channels, too.” “Won’t make any difference. I took yours over to the State Department and got laughed out of the building.”
“Did you meet with these two guys, one real tall and skinny, and one real short and fat?”
“Sounds like them.”
“Likable couple, aren’t they? The Laurel and Hardy of international diplomacy.”
“They liked you a lot, too. They studied your request and the words ‘fat chance’ and ‘fathead’ got mentioned a few times.”
“A fella can’t ask for much more than that, can he?” “How damaging will it be if the request is denied?”
“It creates an opening for a good defense attorney to poke a few holes.”
“Well, nothing more to be done about that. Need anything else from me, Sean?”
“No, sir. But thanks for asking.”
He hung up, and I hung up, and it took a few minutes before I dozed off again. Major General Thomas Clapper was the closest thing to a friend I had in this case. He had taught me military law way back when he was a major and I was a brand-new lieutenant going through my basic officer’s training. If I wasn’t the worst student he ever had, the other guy must have been a stone-cold putz. One can only imagine his dismay when, four or five years later, I approached him to ask if he would sponsor my application to law school and the JAG Corps. I’ve never understood what went through his brain at that instant, but he said yes, and the rest is legal history.
Unlike my own lethargic career, Thomas Clapper was always on a fast track. He was now the two-star general who headed up the corps of Army lawyers. This is the largest law firm in the world, with offices spread around the globe, handling everything from criminal to contracts to real estate law. It is a corps of over a thousand military lawyers and judges and more than twice as many legal specialists of various varieties. It is a corner of the Army few people know exists, filled with grating personalities, oversize egos, and rawly ambitious lawyers. It takes an iron-fisted tyrant to keep all those egos in check, although Clapper was seen as a benevolent dictator, and thus was very beloved by the rank and file. Although not by me. Not at that moment. Clapper just happened to be the guy who threw my name into the hat to head this pre-court-martial investigation, and I knew he was calling to assuage his guilt. I wasn’t about to offer him any clemency. I wanted his guilt to be so massive it gave him walloping headaches.
The next call came about an hour and a half later, and the caller identified himself as Jeremy Berkowitz. Even at 3:30 A.M .,
I recognized the name. Berkowitz was a reporter for the
Washington Herald
who had earned a handsome reputation by exposing lots of embarrassing military insights and scandals. That call went something like this:
“You’re Major Sean Drummond?”
“Says so on my nametag.”
“Heh, heh, that’s a good one. My name’s Jeremy Berkowitz. A common friend gave me your number.”
“Name that friend, would you? I’d like to choke him.”
This resulted in another nice chuckle, and it struck me that everyone in that time zone back in Washington was filled with good humor that day.
“Hey, you know the rules. A good reporter never
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