‘I’m Commander Schwartz, you looking — for me?’
Hatcher turned to face the pilot. In person, Schwartz seemed even smaller than he had from a distance. He spoke very quickly and with a peculiar kind of staccato rhythm, pausing in the wrong places and accenting his words on the wrong syllables, like a man avoiding a chronic stutter. His helmet and goggles had left ridges under his eyes and his short-cropped hair was matted like an ink-blot to his skull. He did not look like the head of flight training at one of the Navy’s major bases. He looked more like a college whiz kid.
‘Commander Hatcher,’ Hatcher lied, offering his hand, ‘Navy Review Board.’
‘What did — I do now?’ Schwartz asked with a relaxed grin. He struck Hatcher as just the opposite of Simmons. Other than being an apparent case of permanent hypertension, Schwartz didn’t seem to have a care in the world.
‘We’re just wrapping up some hangnails,’ Hatcher whispered. ‘You know how the Navy is.’
‘After eighteen years I ought to, Schwartz answered. ‘Can we do this over a sandwich? I’m starving.’
After they had ordered hamburgers and beer, Schwartz asked ‘This about An Khe, Hanoi or Cody?’
‘That’s quite a selection,’ Hatcher growled.
‘I was shot down near An Khe,’ Schwartz said, ‘I was a prisoner for almost four years in Hanoi, and I was one of Cody’s wingmen. I’ve been asked a lot about all three.’
‘This is about Cody,’ Hatcher whispered.
‘Look,’ the little man said, ‘I know you’re not with the board. Hugh Fraser called me last night. He checked Washington right after you talked to him. Far as the Navy’s concerned, the Cody affair is closed. They never heard of you.’
Before Hatcher could say anything, Schwartz held up his hand. ‘I don’t see there’s any security involved here,’ he said. ‘Anything I could tell you is in the record anyway. What’s this all about?’
Hatcher decided to tell Schwartz just enough to keep him interested and talking.
‘I’d like you to keep part of this confidential,’ Hatcher said, stalling a little to get his thoughts regrouped.
‘That depends,’ Schwartz said warily.
‘You know his father was General Cody?’
‘Of course.’
‘Cody’s dying of cancer. It’s not public knowledge at this point and he’d like to keep it that way until it leaks to the media.’
‘How much time does he have?’ Schwartz asked, obviously stunned and genuinely sorry at hearing the news.
‘Maybe six months.’
‘Shit!’
‘The thing is, the old man’s never been satisfied that Cody was killed,’ Hatcher croaked. ‘So they asked me to do one last check, just for the old man. I worked intelligence for him in Nam.’
‘What is it you want to know?’ he asked.
‘I’m kind of interested in the man. Did you like Cody?’ Hatcher asked.
Whereas Harley Simmons and Hugh Fraser had been reluctant to talk, Hatcher couldn’t stop Schwartz. The little man babbled away as though Hatcher had pushed his talk button.
‘Sure, I like him okay,’ Schwartz started, then he paused a moment, rethinking the question. ‘Well, look, it wasn’t a question of did you like him, Murph wasn’t the buddy-buddy type, y’know. He was uh . .
‘Standoffish?’ Hatcher offered.
‘Standoffish. That’s good,’ Schwartz said.
‘When I talked to Hugh Fraser,. he gave me the idea Cody was some kind of suicidal war lover leading his men to certain death.’
‘See, Fraser was always a pretty bitter guy,’ said Schwartz. ‘His accident didn’t help any.’
‘What happened, exactly?’ Hatcher asked.
‘He was making his approach to the Forrestal, flamed out on his final, had to ditch. Broke his back. That’s a real irony, y’know, all he ever wanted was carrier duty. Glamour city.’
‘Yeah, but the Cody thing was bug before that.’
‘Y’see, Fraser was a jet jockey, lie dreamed the carrier dream,’ said Schwartz. ‘The Brown Water Navy definitely wasn’t his idea of big-time war duty.
‘Brown Water Navy?’ Hatcher asked. It was a term with which he was not familiar.
‘That’s what they called our outfit,’ Schwartz explained. ‘We were the only inland squadron in the Navy. We were there mostly to support the Riverine Patrol Forces, covering river convoys, that kind of diddy-bopping shit, but what we really did was support ground movements. It was rotten duty. I suppose there’s an element of truth in what Fraser says. We had big losses. But suicidal? Never. That’s bullshit.’ Schwartz thought for a minute then went on, ‘I’ll tell you, it was like he didn’t want to get too close to anybody, Cody I mean. No favorites. What we were doing, that was the worst, and Cody’s outfit had — a reputation for doing the meanest jobs and working the longest hours. Nobody wanted to go to his outfit.’
‘Did you fear going there?’
