“Lt. Sutton, you have a phone call on line one. It’s
Col. Johnson’s office at the Pentagon.”
|
The Pentagon
photo by:
Master Sgt. Ken Hammond, U.S.A.F. |
“Thank you Sergeant.”
Like most of the nasty things in Washington they
start with a phone call. This was no exception.
Sutton had two hours to make it over to the Pentagon
for the meeting. He couldn’t help wondering what it
was all about. If he hurried he could stop and grab
an early lunch. Taking a sip of hot coffee he
looked at the morning headlines, “Vietcong
Attack.” The newspaper was dated March 23, 1973.
“Yes sir, down the hall to your left, room four.”
“Thank you.”
Taking a seat, Sutton looked around. Others were
entering the room. Sutton then saw Col. Johnson,
along with his aide, Capt. Marjory Ott. Besides two
men from the CIA who Sutton knew well, everyone
else was military. Rising to attention as the
Colonel walked over to the podium, everyone readied
themselves. Nobody was quite sure why they were
there.
“Gentlemen, thank you for being here on such short
notice. I have an announcement to make. This comes
straight from the President. In exactly five days
from now—on March
28th—America is pulling its troops out of Vietnam.
Once this is done, America will officially end its
military involvement in Vietnam. Are there any
questions?”
At precisely that moment the dirty little secret
reared its ugly little head; inside room number four—in
the east wing of the Pentagon—in the room with the
nice view. It was just after one o’clock in the
afternoon.
“Yes Sir, I have a question.”
The speed at which Sutton had come out of his seat
surprised even himself. He couldn’t believe what he
had just heard.
“But Colonel, what about our insertion teams? We’ve
still got men along the Ho Chi Minh Trail. There won’t
be enough time to get everyone out.”
His question quickly turned into a nasty
confrontation. In fact, over the next forty-five
minutes the entire room was nothing but a loud
argument—a real balancing act when you’re just a young
lieutenant and the person you’re arguing with is a
full-bird colonel. But to Col. Johnson’s credit he
let the men speak their mind. But it didn’t change
the facts. History now confirms this.
“How are they getting out? Doesn’t the President
know about our men? Of course—he has to! You
don’t mean that we’re just going to leave them
behind, do you?”
________________________________________
Sutton lifted the cigar to his mouth. He had
dropped the flaps on his tent a long time ago. The
rain drops were still striking loud. Picking up the
sheath of papers lying next to the dog tags, he
began to read.
