The Wilson Deception Read Online Free PDF Page A

the open where they could aim right at you. It was even easier to get killed out there.
    The prison camp hadn’t seemed so bad at first. At least his men weren’t watching him any more, looking to him to have the secret, to know how they could survive.
    Joshua realized that Nash was back, shuffling papers next to him. The prosecutor was seated at the parallel table. The guard called out again. The room stood to attention as five white officers walked purposefully to their seats behind the front table. The windows behind them overlooked the chateau’s semicircular front drive. On a signal from the presiding officer, the prosecutor began his final argument.
    He was hanging it all on the two MPs who arrested Joshua. They were a couple of prize crackers, not interested in a word Joshua said. He found it hard to listen to the prosecutor. So much he said was wrong. The man’s heart didn’t seem to be in it. The war, after all, was over. Even if Joshua had been hiding out from the front line, even if he was the worst coward in history, what could it matter now?
    â€œGentlemen of the court.” Nash’s voice snapped Joshua out of his reverie. “Sergeant Cook served as a brave soldier for five months of hard fighting. He was wounded twice, and both times returned to the front.” Nash’s voice was low, nearly conversational. He didn’t gesture a lot. Yet he conveyed, in a controlled way, that he believed in his case, in Joshua.
    Joshua appreciated that.
    â€œSergeant Cook’s company had been advancing for six days, through miserable weather. They took two villages from the Germans and a hill that was a powerful stronghold. They were too successful, advanced too far, got out beyond their supplies. They hadn’t received provisions for all six days. If it hadn’t been for food they took from the Germans, they would have starved. If they hadn’t found a well at a farmhouse, thirst alone would have stopped them. But still they advanced, never really sleeping, never really resting, driving the Germans before them.”
    Nash paused. “And then his commanding officer, Lieutenant Markham, made a decision. They couldn’t last without provisions. Someone needed to go get them. So he chose his best non-commissioned officer, Sergeant Cook, a man he had placed in the front of several attacks. He told the sergeant to take two soldiers and go to the rear. Markham told Sergeant Cook to find food and water, and bring it back. When the sergeant reached the rear, he could see the problem. All was confusion. Thousands of men, separated from their units, wandered here and there. The roads were clogged. Supplies went to the wrong place, and were just plain lost. There was no order.”
    Joshua could see one of the officers nod in agreement. It had been pandemonium. Trucks stalled on one-lane roads while horse-drawn teams tipped over, spilling their loads. Other trucks pulled around, then sank in mud up to their hubcaps. MPs screamed. Horns blared. Voices shouted. And always the artillery boomed. It was amateur night at the vaudeville show. It had been better when the Ninety-third fought with the French. At least the French knew how to feed their own soldiers during a battle.
    â€œMy colleague,” Nash waved a hand at the prosecutor, “complains that Lieutenant Markham didn’t write out his order to Sergeant Cook. He complains that the two men with the sergeant didn’t hear the lieutenant give the order. He complains that the lieutenant cannot confirm the order in this trial because he lost his life shortly after ordering Sergeant Cook to retrieve provisions.”
    Lost his life, Joshua thought. Careless.
    â€œWe wish that the lieutenant, a valiant officer, was able to testify in this court. Nevertheless, gentlemen, this was the middle of the decisive battle of the war. Orders are shouted over blasts of artillery and machine gun fire. Grenades explode. Written orders