They were original typewritten pages. Not carbons, not
faxes, not photocopies. That was clear. There were handwritten
notes and pencilled amendments between the lines and in the
margins. There were three different scripts. Mostly Kramer’s, I
guessed, but Vassell’s and Coomer’s as well, almost certainly. It
had been a round-robin first draft. That was clear, too. It had
been the subject of a lot of thought and scrutiny.
The first sheet was an analysis of the problems that Armored
was facing. The integrated units, the loss of prestige. The
possibility of ceding command to others. It was gloomy, but it
was conventional. And it was accurate, according to the Chief of
Staff.
The second page and the third page contained more or
less what I had predicted to Summer. Proposed attempts to
discredit key opponents, with maximum use of dirty laundry.
Some of the margin notes hinted at some of the dirt, and a lot
of it sounded pretty interesting. I wondered how they had
gathered information like that. And I wondered if anyone in
JAG Corps would follow up on it. Someone probably would.
394
Investigations were like that. They led off in all kinds of random
directions.
There were ideas for public relations campaigns. Most of
them were pretty limp. These guys hadn’t mixed with the public
since they took the bus up the Hudson to start their plebe year
at the Point. Then there were references to the big defence
contractors. There were ideas for political initiatives inside the
Department of the Army and in Congress. Some of the political
ideas looped right back and tied in with the defence contractor
references. There were hints of some pretty sophisticated
relationships there. Clearly money flowed one way and favours
flowed the other way. The Secretary of Defence was mentioned
by name. His help was taken pretty much for granted. On one
line his name was actually underlined and a note in the margin
read: bought and paid for. Altogether the first three pages
were full of the kind of stuff you would expect from arrogant
professionals heavily invested in the status quo. It was murky
and sordid and desperate, for sure. But it wasn’t anything that
would send you to jail.
That stuff came on the fourth page.
The fourth page had a curious heading: T.E.P., The Extra
Mile. Underneath that was a typed quotation from The Art
of War by Sun Tzu: To fail to take the battle to the enemy when
your back is to the wall is to perish. Alongside that in the margin
was a pencilled addendum in what I guessed was Vassell’s
handwriting: While coolness in disaster is the supreme proof of a
commander’s courage, energy in pursuit is the surest test of his
strength of will. Wavell.
‘Who’s Wavell?’ Summer said.
‘An old British field marshal,’ I said. ‘World War Two. Then
he was viceroy of India. He was blind in one eye from World
War One.’
Underneath the Wavell quote was another pencilled note, in a
different hand. Coomer’s, probably. It said: Volunteers? Me?
Marshall? Those three words were ringed and connected with a
long looping pencil line back to the heading: T.E.P., The Extra
Mile.
‘What’s that about?’ Summer said.
‘Read on,’I said.
395
Below the Sun Tzu quote was a typed list of eighteen names. 1
knew most of them. There were key battalion commanders
from prestige infantry divisions like the 82nd and the 101st, and
significant staffers from the Pentagon, and some other people.
There was an interesting mix of ages and ranks. There were no
really junior officers, but the list wasn’t confined to senior
people. Not by any means. There were some rising stars in
there. Some obvious choices, some off-beat mavericks. A few of
the names meant nothing to me. They belonged to people I had
never heard of. There was a guy listed called Abelson, for
instance. I didn’t know who Abelson was. He had a pencilled
check mark against his name. Nobody else did.
‘What’s the check mark for?’ Summer said.
I dialled my sergeant outside at her desk.
‘Ever heard of a guy called Abelson?’ I asked her.
‘No,’ she said.
‘Find out about him,’ I said. ‘He’s probably a light colonel or