“I wasn’t in that ambulance,” Colonel Eklund says. “But a dozen factors play into every combat situation, especially in an emergency like that. How severely injured are your wounded? How has the enemy been treating your prisoners? Is there any reasonable expectation of aid? Are you obligated to stay with your wounded in the face of certain capture? That’s probably not even half of what went through those two medics’ heads during the first hour inside that ambulance, and they weren’t even twenty years old. I figure they were in shock, being wounded themselves. And there was no doubt about what would have happened if they were captured. I personally saw an American ambulance that the North Koreans had torched with living wounded inside it. Every man in the theater had heard those stories, I guarantee it.”

“So, knowing all those factors as you do, do you believe that Private Cage and Private Garrity committed murder on that night?”

“I guess I believe that what they did falls outside the boundaries of rules and regulations. All I can tell you is that I never saw Tom Cage act out of fear or selfishness. Not even when his life was at stake. At eighteen years old, the man did his job in all circumstances, regardless of the risk to himself. Whatever he did in that ambulance that night, he did for the welfare of the men under his care. I’d stake my life on that.”

“Thank you, Colonel. One last question. In your experience, did American pilots receive special treatment as compared to other prisoners taken by the North Koreans and Chinese?”

“Absolutely. That was common knowledge. The Chinese wanted to learn all they could about our fighter and bomber capabilities, so all enemy combatants and civilians knew to pass pilots up the chain for interrogation. I’m sure they suffered plenty in captivity—and a few got murdered with bamboo spears in one incident I know about—but unlike GIs and grunts, they weren’t shot out of hand, burned, starved, or left to die in the snow. Not as a rule, anyway.”

“Thank you, Colonel. No further questions.”

“This is when you find out how good a lawyer is,” I whisper to Rusty.

Rusty leans over to me. “If I were Shad, I’d cut my losses and get General Patton there off the stand as fast as possible.”

But Shad has no intention of retiring from the field. He stands and approaches Colonel Eklund without the slightest trepidation. “Colonel, how long had you known Private Cage before the Chinese hit you on the night of the twenty-fifth?”

“About four months.”

“Did you ever see him again after the morning of November twenty-sixth, 1950?”

“No.”

“Did you recognize him when you came into court today?”