Blue Madonna Read Online Free Page A

the court to order. Even more people had filed in to hear the verdict. JAG officers, CID men, and assorted noncoms from who knew where. Scott and I stood to hear the sentence.
    â€œCaptain William Boyle, you have been found guilty as charged under Articles of War Eighty-Three, Eighty-Four, and Ninety-Three. It is the sentence of this court that you be reduced in rank to the grade of private and confined to hard labor for three months, at such a place as the reviewing authority may direct. The business of this general court-martial is concluded.”
    The gavel came down.
    â€œI’m sorry,” Scott said, offering his hand. “I wish I’d done better.”
    â€œDon’t worry, the fix was in. You couldn’t have done anything.”
    Major Thompson led Scott out of the room, and I wondered how far away they’d send him. Whoever was orchestrating this charade would be covering his tracks soon, and dollars to doughnuts Scott would find himself on a slow boat to some Pacific backwater before the week was out.
    Two MPs, a sergeant and a corporal, escorted me to a small room. They ordered me to remove my short-waisted Ike jacket. One of them removed my captain’s bars and decorations from the jacket while the other took the bars off my shirt collar and garrison cap. I was relieved of my tie and belt; evidently for some, loss of rank was too much of a burden to bear.
    â€œFellas, how would I hang myself in here anyway?” I asked. The low, curved walls of the Quonset hut offered little hope for the suicidal.
    â€œHad a guy once who strangled himself with his belt. Passed out and died on us,” the corporal said. “But I don’t expect we need to worry about you. Scuttlebutt is you got someone at SHAEF looking out for you.”
    â€œYeah, well, he better show up soon. Where’d you hear that?”
    â€œNo talking with the prisoner,” his more businesslike sergeant said. He tossed my Ike jacket at me, and they left me alone. I sat at the rickety wooden table, wondering what the hell had just happened.
    Private Billy Boyle.
    Three months of hard labor.
    How much worse could it get?
    The door opened, and Colonel Harding entered, followed by the CID agent who’d been at his side earlier. And Archie Chapman. I was about to find out how much worse.
    Harding waited until the door was firmly shut and they were all seated. “You did well in there, Boyle.”
    â€œIt’s easy to be a patsy,” I said. “What’s he doing here?” I offered a sharp nod in Archie’s direction.
    â€œEasy, Peaches,” Archie said. “We’re all in this together.”
    â€œGreat,” I said. “So you’re all pitching in on the hard labor? What the hell is happening, Colonel?”
    â€œI’m sorry, Boyle, but we thought it best that you react as naturally as possible,” Harding said. “It was part of the plan. Don’t worry, the loss of rank isn’t official. Beaumont and Thompson were in on it.”
    â€œI hope that goes for the confinement at hard labor as well,” I said, trying to mask the emotions flooding my mind. Relief, anger, joy, all with a touch of fear about where this was headed. I didn’t want them to know I’d been too concerned, so I laughed. Ha, ha, ha.
    I didn’t even convince myself.
    â€œShouldn’t be a problem,” the CID guy said as he introduced himself. “Agent David Hatch.” I’d have preferred more certainty, but by now I was too curious to debate his choice of words. “Although the plan does require you to be put in the stockade for a while.”
    â€œSomebody back up and start from the beginning. Explain to this lowly private what the deal is.”
    â€œYou know how serious theft and pilferage is,” Harding began. “From the moment supplies are off-loaded from ships, they’re subject to repeated plundering. Some of it is small time, but it