The Winston Affair Read Free Page A

importance about him except that he was the son of an old and dear friend. It might also be said, in all fairness, that Barney Adams knew very little about himself; and thus he neither disputed nor regretted the assumption of what lay ahead for him. He had never thought about his assignments very differently.
    â€œThe point is,” said General Kempton, “that I want your steps to be good steps, proper steps. And I think that this is a proper step, Barney. I am breaching neither good taste nor procedure when I tell you that you will have your majority when this court-martial is finished, Barney, and in good time I want to let your father know that I have a full colonel, name of Barney Adams, on my staff. I make no promises; I don’t have to. You have three generations of notable military careers in your family. I don’t think it could be otherwise.”
    â€œThat is very kind of you, sir.”
    â€œNot at all,” the general said. He sat on his desk, puffed his cigar and gestured toward the portfolio. “How much of that have you read?”
    â€œOnly a few pages carefully. But I’ve scanned through all of it. It doesn’t appear too complicated as a case.”
    â€œThe picture is plain but the frame is God damn complicated, Barney. The one takes a few minutes in telling; the other involves a century and a half of history and misunderstanding. Five days from now, you will know the facts far better than I do. But I don’t think anything can be altered. There is no confusion of guilt or circumstances—nor is there the slightest doubt about the facts. A Sergeant Arnold Quinn of the British Army was murdered by Second Lieutenant Charles Winston of the United States Army. It happened four weeks ago at a little way-station on the narrow-gauge railroad, a place called Bachree. Sergeant Quinn was unarmed. Lieutenant Winston shot him four times, using his service revolver. There were witnesses to the crime, and the accused man has confessed. All this you must have gathered out of the file—even with a cursory reading.”
    â€œYes, sir. It seems to be one of those sordid and unhappy things that happen when a great many men are armed. Sometimes I’m amazed that it doesn’t happen more often.”
    For some reason, the general appeared to be surprised by Adams’ remark; Adams noticed his glance and raised brow.
    â€œI gather it doesn’t end with the crime itself?” Adams said.
    â€œIt doesn’t.”
    â€œAnd I imagine it created bitter feeling among the British.”
    â€œOh, the feeling was already there, Barney. This simply made it murderous. It’s no secret that all isnot joy and brotherhood with our British cousins in this theater, and it’s small consolation, if any, to say that I inherited it when I took command six months ago. I’d like to imagine that things are better since I have been here, but the plain truth is that things are worse. There is literally no day that goes by without some incident between the British troops and our troops, and just between us, the provocation is more often on our part than theirs. I’ve become so adept at apology that I do it in my sleep. Take this matter of Major Wyclif, who was in here a few minutes ago. Two of his enlisted men got into a scrap with some GIs in a cheap bordel here. The British soldiers were badly beaten and the place was wrecked. Now the NCOs will cover for the men and the junior officers will cover for the NCOs. I am not going to institute a spy system. I make my apology, for what it is worth, but even apologies wear thin. Are you familiar with this kind of thing between ourselves and the British?”
    â€œI’ve seen something of it in Africa and Italy. But it works itself out in combat, I think.”
    â€œExactly. But in a situation like this, it does not work out. It festers and becomes worse and worse. Myself, I like the British. That’s not a politic