“I will,” Chris replied, handing out stapled packets of paper. “The Defense Secretary’s recent rejection of the petition to upgrade the Navy Cross to the Medal of Honor for Sergeant Miguel Restrepo appears to be problematic for two reasons. It’s yet another in a long line of denials that would clearly have been worthy of the MOH in previous conflicts. However, it’s the first time a scientific panel has been convened to establish and consider forensic evidence, and that all eyewitness testimony of Marines present during the incident has been disregarded completely.”
“I can already tell that those two issues are linked,” Kellan said, skimming through the document and seeing a thorough investigation had been conducted. “Technology has changed everything about warfare. It’s reasonable to expect it to be utilized to determine the worthiness of a medal citation, and that it would affect the outcome of many of those decisions.”
“That would be both reasonable and expected,” said Captain Hirata. “One would then expect that the criteria for all medals would be revised to accommodate the changes in technology, but they have not. The process for determination remains unchanged, yet we’re all aware that the application of those criteria has altered for some inexplicable reason.”
“In Restrepo’s case, it appears as though a new standard was implemented with the intention of denying him the MOH?” Jonah asked.
“In light of the fact that an independent medical panel reviewed the same information and reached a completely different conclusion, that seems likely,” answered Hoffman.
“My next question would be whether technology has changed the nature of our combat to the extent that fewer opportunities for individual valor are available,” mused Kellan. “But we’ve already established that both battles of Fallujah, the regular clearing of houses at the platoon level, and the ongoing campaign to win hearts and minds negates that argument completely.”
“That’s correct,” Hoffman confirmed.
“Has a larger pattern emerged?” Kellan asked, sitting back in his chair and spinning his ink stick between his fingers to ease his agitation.
“Not one that I can prove in a court of law,” Hirata answered.
“So, what do you know that you can’t prove?” Jonah asked.
Agent Giammona cleared his throat and sat forward in his chair, passing out another thick packet of papers. “That the military establishment is systematically under-awarding medals to the members of the first all-volunteer military in U.S. history,” he said in summary. “The underlying belief is that because they are all volunteers and are not conscripted, that they understand and accept what they’re getting into and that makes their actions less heroic and more,” he paused, as if considering his words, “the expected standard.”
Kellan sat in stunned silence and could feel Jonah’s growing tension radiating off of him.
“That may be the polite face the Pentagon is putting on the situation, though,” Maddy said into the tense silence. “This all-volunteer military is made up of more people of color, more women, more homosexuals, and more foreign nationals than ever before.”
“There
is
a publicly acknowledged history of racial discrimination in the awarding of the MOH,” Hirata added.
“All nine of the recipients of the MOH from OIF and OEF are white men,” Nick said, taking a set of photos from a folder and laying them out for Kellan to see.
“And that’s another thing, Kellan,” Maddy said, “nine medals total, awarded in two separate wars. One-hundred-ninety-three Medals of Honor have been awarded for peace-time incidents. How does that make sense?”
Kellan tossed his pen down on the table and rubbed both hands over his face in annoyance. “Well, shit,” he said darkly, staring blindly at the table in front of him, mind racing over the implications and his possible options.
Suddenly, Jonah sat forward in his chair and pinned each staff member with a direct look. “Kellan needs to know two things so he can decide the most appropriate course, or courses of action moving forward. Captain Hirata currently couldn’t prove our case in a court of law, but are all of you able to compile a case that he could prove? If the answer to that question is yes, do all of you have the desire and fortitude to see this through to its conclusion?”
Kellan looked into the determined faces of his staff. Nick and Maddy had little to lose. They were civilians and Kellan wasn’t going to hold their involvement against them. Agent Giammona was with the FBI and could possibly incur the wrath of his superiors, but it wasn’t likely. Agent Hoffman and Captain Hirata however, could face fallout if the Navy or the Marine Corps took exception to anything they might uncover or do during the course of this investigation.
They had a little Senatorial protection, but it only extended so far, and Kellan was only just building up his own political clout.
Maddy was the first to reply. “When Kellan first asked me to sign on for this, I knew it could get sticky. I signed on to see this through to the end, whatever Kellan decides the end is.”
As she spoke, Nick sat beside her, mutely nodding his agreement. Kellan nodded his appreciation to them, touched by their dedication and loyalty.
“My participation is official, so I’m here unless or until the Bureau yanks me out,” Marco said, shaking his head. There was obviously more he wanted to say. “A lot of the time, the work I do doesn’t make much difference in the larger scheme of things. The supply of criminals is endless, and the ones I do catch don’t always get their full measure of justice. This matters, though. This might not lead to anything technically criminal, but it’s important to hold people accountable for good old fashioned right and wrong.”
There were nods of agreement all around the table.
“Thank you, Marco.” The simple words didn’t begin to express the depth of Kellan’s appreciation.
“Mirai and I were discussing this on the flight out,” said Chris. “We’re going to end up fighting this battle on two fronts—the systematic denial of medals and the individual case of the obviously deserving Miguel Restrepo. But someone has to fight it, it’s only right. So, the two of us are in until they lock us up for insubordination.”
Hirata laughed quietly. “I’m a lawyer, I can probably figure out how to get the charges dropped.”
The room erupted into laughter and Kellan joined in gratefully. It appeared his fears about this situation were proving true and it saddened him, even as it fired his anger and motivated him to action.
“Okay,” Jonah addressed the group. “Kellan and I will discuss it, formulate our strategy and then we’ll work out the details with all of you.” He dismissed the group with a nod, even Captain Hirata responding to the natural authority.
When the door closed and they were alone, Jonah turned in his chair to face Kellan. “So, Captain, ready to go to war?”
CHAPTER SIX
Kellan was escorted into the Pentagon office of the Secretary of Defense, Calvin Burnett. This appointment had been difficult to schedule. Senator Gilchrist had finally intervened, when the Secretary’s staff kept trying to schedule Kellan a month out. As they had gathered preliminary information and he’d submitted reports to the senators, Kellan had hoped they might uncover innocent or reasonable explanations for the scarce number of Medals of Honor awarded in the last decade. The silent wall of the Department of Defense had quickly killed that hope.
Jonah’s expression was dark as he stood to watch Kellan enter Burnett’s office. He was having a difficult time not taking their findings personally.
“Mr. Reynolds,” Burnett greeted, shaking Kellan’s hand. “Please have a seat.”
The Secretary gestured toward a comfortable looking guest chair as he walked around behind his own impressive desk. Kellan sat, but Burnett did not. He remained standing and rifled through stacks of papers on his desk. It was rude, dismissive, and an obvious power play. Kellan was supposed to be intimidated. He wasn’t. He was, however, angry and disappointed.
“What can I do for you today, Kellan?” Burnett sought to throw Kellan even further off balance with the familiarity.
“That’s Mr. Reynolds, Secretary Burnett,” Kellan replied, refusing to play the game. “I’m a retired Marine Corps captain, I have a double Masters degree from Harvard University, I’m the CEO of an influential consulting company, and a committee of Senators has asked me to conduct an investigation on their behalf. I’m not a junior staffer to be casually disregarded, so let’s dispense with the games, shall we?”
Burnett looked up at him in surprise. “I wasn’t aware we had engaged in any game playing,” he said stiffly. “What is it we’re meeting about today,
Mr. Reynolds
?”
Kellan allowed himself to savor a moment of victory. “You’re fully aware of what I came here to discuss, Mr. Secretary,” he said. “I made no secret about it when I requested this meeting. You’ve also had your staff investigate both my official mission, as well as the rumors that surround it.”
Burnett laughed mirthlessly. “You’re right, Mr. Reynolds. One doesn’t become Secretary of Defense without knowing to have your staff learn everything possible about who you meet with. Unfortunately, my schedule is tight today, and I’m running behind. We’re going to have to finish this talk on the way to my next meeting.”
The Secretary started for the office door but Kellan didn’t move. “That’s much more subtle than having your assistant interrupt us in a few minutes with an emergency meeting you’ve been called into,” he said dryly. “Mr. Secretary, I went through the proper channels and booked an hour of your time today. If you refuse me that full hour, I’ll have no choice but to officially conclude that you knowingly denied Sergeant Restrepo the Medal of Honor for reasons of racism.”
Burnett resumed his seat at his desk. He regarded Kellan for several moments before he sighed heavily. “The general consensus is that your separation from the Marine Corps was the Corps’ loss,” he said ruefully. “I think that assessment might be correct.”
Kellan stored that away for future analysis.
“Mr. Secretary, I’m here to discuss your decision to uphold your predecessor’s denial of Sergeant Miguel Restrepo the Medal of Honor.” Kellan scrolled through the notes on his tablet app. “When we establish that this is part of a larger policy that systematically denies veterans of Iraq and Afghanistan the MOH, I’ll be back to discuss that with you.”
“I have no doubt of that, Mr. Reynolds,” Burnett responded dryly.
Kellan continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “The former Secretary of Defense, Harry Simpson, manufactured a method to discredit and disregard the eyewitness testimony of heroic Marines. You were handed a face-saving reason you could revise that decision and award Restrepo the medal, yet you chose not to take it.”
“Is there a question in there somewhere, Mr. Reynolds?”
“There are several, Mr. Secretary,” Kellan replied, undaunted. “Why is Sergeant Restrepo being held to a higher standard than every other MOH recipient? Why is the veracity of the testimony of United States Marines being questioned? Why did Simpson convene a medical panel for the first, and last time in the history of the awarding the MOH, without any official adjustment to standards and policies? When the findings of that panel were contradicted and disproved, why did you uphold them, Mr. Secretary?”
Kellan held the stylus poised above the screen of his tablet, prepared to make notes of Burnett’s answers.
The Secretary exhaled harshly and sat back in his chair. He inhaled deeply before he spoke. “You may feel free to call me Cal, if I may call you Kellan,” Burnett said placidly.
Kellan hoped he hid his surprise. He inclined his head, silently agreeing to the concession for which he had been asked.
“I’m going to have some coffee.” Burnett sat forward and typed briefly on his laptop. “Would you like some coffee, Kellan?”
Kellan recognized the twenty-first century equivalent of the peace pipe. “I would appreciate that, Cal, thank you.”
Minutes later, Burnett’s assistant entered carrying a tray, laden with a carafe, two mugs, sweetener packets and a small pitcher of creamer. As Kellan prepared his coffee to his taste, the assistant said, “I’m making sure the Staff Sergeant is comfortable, Mr. Reynolds. He accepted a bottle of water when I offered.”
“Thank you,” Kellan said gratefully. He knew Jonah would be bored as hell, waiting for him, so at least he’d be comfortable.
When they were alone once again, Burnett regarded Kellan over the rim of his mug. “This conversation is off the record,” he said abruptly. “I legitimately can’t be of help to you, but I’m also not going to be a hindrance.”
“I don’t understand.” Kellan was confused but the Secretary’s words stirred hope, deep inside of him.
“I have no knowledge of a systematic denial of medals for racial or gender reasons,” Burnett explained. “It’s not something being encouraged, even subtly, from my office. When you build a case against anyone in the DOD who is guilty of that kind of discriminatory behavior, I won’t stand in your way, or protect the guilty. But I can’t help you with building that portion of your case.”
Kellan nodded his understanding, letting it stand as a tacit agreement. “Good enough.” It was more than he’d thought he would achieve.
“The heroic veterans of these two current wars are the unfortunate victims of the modern internet and the previous administration’s rush to publicly declare victories and heroes,” Burnett said with a sad shake of his head.
Kellan was genuinely baffled. “Could you please clarify that for me?”
“Before the war in Afghanistan was even twelve months old, a Marine was killed during a successful assault. His identity was released and a story came to light that a professional athlete walked away from a lucrative contract in order to serve his country. He was lauded as a hero—and he was—and his sacrifice was held up as an example to everyone. And then it came to light that his death was needless and senseless. Killed by friendly fire because an officer couldn’t accurately call in an airstrike.”
Kellan nodded, remembering the anger and a mother’s tears.
“You remember when the Army supply truck was ambushed during the invasion of Baghdad, I’m sure?” Burnett continued. “You were in theater when it happened.”