Samuel’s respect for Johnson grew exponentially over the next two hours as he watched the congressman listen intently to the men’s stories. After he and Rupert Barrett had briefly outlined the situation, explaining the deprivation of the men’s liberty and the bullying factor in the form of Chuck Maxwell, Johnson demanded to hear directly from the two men involved. And as he listened, his focus was absolute and his questions, although barked out imperiously, brief and intelligent. Samuel was impressed. Lyndon Johnson might well be arrogant, overbearing, dictatorial and at times downright rude, but he was certainly accomplished.

‘We was drunk, sir,’ Amos said. ‘No two ways ’bout that – we was drunk …’ Even seated though they were, it was strange to see the Texan so dwarfed by big Amos Cole, not just in height, but in build and vocal power. By comparison, Johnson appeared strangely small.

‘We knew we was wrong, but we was angry, see,’ Amos went on, ‘angry ’bout bein’ barred from town, angry ’bout them closin’ our club after just one night …’

Johnson gave a curt nod, the captain and the corporal had filled him in on these details. ‘You consider that sound enough reason to fire upon your commanding officers?’ he snapped.

‘Oh no, sir, no,’ Amos shook his huge head vehemently, ‘that were never our intention. We just wanted to go into town, is all, go into town and get us a decent drink.’ He looked shamefaced, like an enormous, guilty child. ‘That was my idea, sir, all my idea,’ he admitted. ‘It was me egged the guys on, you know, just wantin’ to have some fun …’

‘So you decided to arm yourselves, just for fun?’

‘Well, yes, sir, in a way.’ Amos looked guiltier than ever. ‘We was showin’ off, that’s all. The guns was just for show, sir, I swear that’s the truth. No-one was goin’ to fire them.’

‘Kase was.’ It was Willie who interjected. Willie had pondered the situation for quite some time. Why Kase, why, he’d wondered on that dreadful night. Why did you have to do that? He knew now. ‘Kase was out to get Maxwell right from the start. He was prepared to go down for it, what’s more.’

Johnson opened the file he held in his hand and glanced at the first page, searching for a name among the many listed there.

‘Private Kasey Davis, sir,’ Rupe prompted, ‘the soldier considered to be the principal ringleader of the mutiny.’

‘Ah yes, thank you, Corporal.’ Johnson found the name among those listed dead.

‘Kase wasn’t out to have fun that night,’ Willie went on. ‘Kase wanted to kill Maxwell because of Ant.’

Johnson didn’t consult his list this time, but looked directly at the corporal, seeking an answer.