“I was a second lieutenant in charge of J Company, one of the northernmost American units in Korea. Love Company was stuck out the farthest. They were an all-black unit commanded by a Japanese-American officer. Love Company usually got the most dangerous probing assignments, for the obvious reason. And then there was us, Company J, to the east on Hill 403.”

“What was your assignment on that night?”

“To hold the hill.”

“Did you succeed?”

“No, sir.”

“Why not?”

“Because at midnight the Chinese People’s Volunteer Army attacked us with overwhelming force. The odds were in the neighborhood of fifty to one. We weren’t dug in very well, either. I’d been on Peleliu in the Pacific, so I knew how important good foxholes were, but the men were wet and tired when we got to the hill, and the ground was frozen. Deeper holes wouldn’t have mattered, though, given what the Chicoms threw at us that night.”

“Was Private Cage on Hill 403 that night?”

“He was. He served as one of my company medics.”

“Do you remember how he performed his duties during the Chinese assault?”

“I’m not likely to forget it.”

“Why is that, Colonel?”

Colonel Eklund is searching for my father, I realize. He probably can’t quite grasp that the old man sitting at the defense table is the young medic he commanded in Korea. But then he does, because a look of wonder and sadness comes into his eyes.

“Colonel Eklund?” Quentin prompts. “Why won’t you forget Private Cage’s actions on Hill 403?”

“Because I recommended him for the Medal of Honor for what he did that night.”

“Objection!” Shad barks into the shocked silence. “This can have no relevance to what happened in an ambulance five nights later.”

Without waiting for Judge Elder to rule, Quentin says, “I’d like to let the jury decide that, Your Honor. But I believe you’ll see the relevance in a few moments.”

At last I understand why Quentin allowed Shad to call Major Powers to the stand with his tale of mercy killing in the ambulance. The moment Powers began to testify about what happened in 1950, the Korean War became fair game in this trial. Elation—and resentment at Quentin—are flooding through me in equal measure. Quentin claimed that my hope of him having a surprise witness in his back pocket was juvenile, yet true to his reputation as a courtroom magician, he has produced one.

Judge Elder looks hard at Shad. “As I said yesterday, Mr. Johnson, you opened the door to Korea. I can’t very well stop Mr. Avery from marching through it.”

With the smallest of satisfied smiles, Quentin turns back to Colonel Eklund. “Can you describe the events that prompted you to recommend Private Cage for that award?”

Eklund reaches into his inside coat pocket. “I actually brought the nomination letter with me. I just hope I brought my proper glasses.”