Chapter 63
THERE WASN’T A sound in the room, just expectant faces, every one of them turned toward me.
I began to talk about the night we were transporting troops from Gardez to the base in Kandahar. I said that I was piloting the aircraft, that Del Rio was my copilot, my wingman, and that we had fourteen war-weary Marines in the cargo bay.
“Night flights are exceptionally—hazardous. Even with NVGs, even with our heightened awareness of anomalies on the ground, there are ditches and shadows where the enemy can hide.”
I said, “We never saw the ground-to-air missile that slammed through the belly of the CH-46, knocking out our rear rotor, sending us into a death spiral thousands of feet straight down. That same missile set off ordnance inside the chopper and blew up the fuel tanks and started the fire that burned our helicopter from the inside out.”
I looked at the faces of the jurors and told them that against terrible odds, we landed the aircraft with its struts down, and that Del Rio and I got out of the Phrog alive and uninjured. My voice cracked when I told them that when I reached the wreckage of the cargo bay, I was presented with something akin to Sophie’s choice.
“You’re supposed to take the man that has the best chance of survival. That’s what you do—but it was dark. Men were screaming in agony, begging not to be left to be burned alive. I loved them all, but I grabbed Corporal Danny Young,” I said. “I didn’t know if he would make it, but he was closest to the door.
“I carried him to safety, and I had just put him down when the helicopter exploded. It’s a concussive explosion. The ground erupts. The air shatters.
“I was hit in the chest by a chunk of flying metal, and my protective armor stopped it from going through. But the force stopped my heart. That’s what Rick told me later. My heart stopped and I died.
“But Rick didn’t let me die. He stayed with me, pounded my chest until I was breathing. Because of him, that man sitting there, I am alive. But Danny was killed by the blast. All of our brothers in the cargo bay—dead.”
I had to stop speaking. My throat closed up and my eyes watered as I remembered the unspeakable horror.
Caine’s voice broke into my thoughts. He said, “What happened after First Lieutenant Del Rio brought you back to life?”
I could see it now, so clearly that I was as good as there. Could I put it into words? I tried.
“Later. The sun was coming up,” I told the jury. “I was on a stretcher, with a saline drip in my arm. There were sedatives in the bag too, hard core enough to keep me down.
“But I could see through the dust and the veil of smoke that Rick was following the corpsmen into what was left of the aircraft. He came out with the body bags, helped lay them out in a line on the ground.
“We had survived and they were dead. This…there are no words…for how this feels.”
Tears ran from my eyes. I just couldn’t speak. Caine told me to take my time, and finally, I looked at Del Rio and said, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
He nodded, but he, too, was breaking down.
Dexter Lewis got to his feet and objected.
“Your Honor, I think we all understand the relationship between the witness and the defendant. There’s no point in continuing this testimony when in fact it has nothing to do with this trial.”
“I’ll allow it, Mr. Lewis. Go on, Mr. Morgan.”
I went back there again and told what I saw.
“Del Rio was squatting down maybe twenty feet away from where I was lying. He unzipped Corporal Young’s bag. I could hear some of what he said. It was like, ‘Danny, I hope you’re still hanging around and can hear me, man.’
“He was talking and then laughing, like he and Danny were sharing a joke, and then his expression changed. I heard him say, ‘Sheila.’
“Sheila was Danny’s wife, pregnant with their fourth child, and I heard Rick say that when the baby was due, he would go to Lubbock, be there for Sheila. Then Rick made the sign of the cross on Danny’s forehead, said, ‘I’ll keep you with me, Danny. See ya soon.’
“He went down the line to the next bag, unzipped it, and talked to the next Marine, and then the next, all of them as if they were living and whole.
“He said he was sorry, talked awhile, made jokes. Then he made the sign of the cross, sent them off…It was like a sacrament, a beautiful, beautiful thing.”
Caine brought over the tissues and I wiped my eyes. But tissues couldn’t dam the flow.
I was crying, and Rick was crying too.
I heard Caine say, “Thank you,” and the judge asked Dexter Lewis if he had any questions.
And you know what? He did.