“General MacArthur had made a terrible blunder by pushing his forces so far north and triggering China’s entry into the war. His whole command was in disarray. He wasn’t about to let a scandal like what happened in that ambulance break in the stateside press. So he buried it. Cage and Garrity got off scot-free, and I was told to forget it ever happened.”

“And did you?”

Despite his rigid composure throughout his testimony, the major’s chin quivers now. He has been waiting fifty-five years for this moment. “I’ll see those poor boys on my deathbed, Mr. Johnson.”

Shad looks over at the jury as though asking if they have any questions, but the horror and disgust on their faces is plain. They have heard all they need to, it seems. I have questioned many witnesses in my time, and a few were like Major Powers. They’d lived for decades with a memory that had festered in them like an abscess, and then, unexpectedly, a chance presented itself for them to walk into a witness box and have a prosecutor lance that abscess for them. And in most of those cases, the testimony that came pouring out was devastating.

“Your witness, Mr. Avery,” Shad says, unable to disguise the triumph in his voice.

Quentin is whispering something in my father’s ear.

Judge Elder says, “Mr. Avery?”

Quentin looks up as though surprised. “Your Honor?”

“Do you have any questions for this witness?”

“No. No questions, Judge.”

As the whole crowd murmurs in amazement, Judge Elder looks down at Quentin as though he has truly lost his mind.

Why has Quentin allowed this? I wonder. For the first time I consider standing to cross-examine a witness. Could I possibly make up some ground with Major Powers? How? I’ve had no time to prep, and my father never told me anything about the episode in the ambulance, or anything else about his wartime experience. Besides, once Quentin allowed Powers’s story to be told, the damage was done.

“You’re free to go, Major,” Judge Elder says.

Major Powers gets to his feet and marches toward the center aisle with military precision. As he passes the defense table, he pauses, looks down, then hawks and spits on my father’s chest.

No one makes a sound. No one except my mother, who emits a soft and desolate cry.

Major Powers stands his ground, as though daring Dad to rise and fight him, but my father merely looks back at him and says, “I’m sorry, Major.”

The pilot shakes his head with contempt, then walks down the aisle as though he can’t wait to get out of the state of Mississippi.