Good Order and Discipline

By Gregory Huckabee and Dale Keiser

While the world reels back from the abyss of World War II, the whispers got louder. Rumors of American soldiers brutalized by a military stockade gone renegade. Beatings, torture, soldiers disappearing in the middle of the night...sadistic sergeants and officers doing whatever they desire to stay in control. As international trials in Nuremberg

• Language: English
• Publisher: HuckabeeKeiserLLC
• Release date: Aug 21, 2020
• ISBN: 9781087906515

Book preview

A real page turner! This easy-to-read book provides a fascinating and absorbing journey into a dark chapter in military legal history. Anyone interested in military history will want to add this book to their professional library.

—Dr. Michael J. Davidson, Author, West Point graduate, and retired Army Judge Advocate

I love to discover America’s faults and how we eventually get things corrected. We do that better than anyone. We screw up, but we usually fess up. Not perfect, but less imperfect than anyone else. Book was fast-paced and well written. PS: a book about lawyers doing good work is inspiring.

—Mike Keller, Dean Emeritus, University of South Dakota Beacom School of Business

A great read! Huckabee and Keiser successfully capture the tension between the interests of command and the necessity to seek justice for the military. A strong recommendation to anyone interested in the history of military justice.

— James S. Richardson, Sr. Chair Veterans and Military Law Section, The Federal Bar Association, Past National President of the Federal Bar Association.

Headlines from 1945-46

Lichfield Murder Suspected: Probe Opens in G.I. Death

The Stars and Stripes December 18, 1945

Court Orders Charge Against Lichfield CO

The Stars and Stripes January 16, 1946

Lichfield Officer Admits ‘You Could Kill a Man’

The Stars and Stripes February 5, 1946

Overseas: Lichfield Fireworks

Time April 15, 1946

"Wounded Vet Tells of Cruelties, Bronze Star Holder

Testifies of Lichfield"

AP Dispatch June 26, 1946

Good Order

and

Discipline

Gregory M. Huckabee

and

Dale R. Keiser

Good Order and Discipline

Copyright 2020 Gregory M. Huckabee and Dale R. Keiser

All rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, photocopying, recording, or by any information retrieval or storage system without the express written permission of the author except in the case of short excerpts used in critical review.

Book design: Gray Dog Press www.GrayDogPress.com

Cover photograph of Lichfield Barracks collected by Jack Gieck from US Army photos.

Softcover ISBN-13: 978-1-7224-9790-3

To Harold and Pauline Keiser

and

James and Carolyn Huckabee

Contents

Foreword

1 Operation Desert Storm, Outside Mosul, Iraq, January 1991

2 Lichfield Replacement Depot, Southeast England, December 1944

3 HQ, Allied Forces Europe, Frankfurt, Germany, June 1945

4 Brigadier General Claude M. Thiele’s Office, Headquarters, United Kingdom Base, Grosvenor Square, London

5 Area Defense Counsel Office, Germany

6 Courtroom, Grosvenor Square, London, December 3, 1945

7 Outside the office of Brigadier General Claude M. Thiele, General Court-Martial Convening Authority

8 The Golden Hind Pub, London

9 Trial Counsel Office, Grosvenor Square, London

10 Courtroom, Grosvenor Square, London

11 The Tubes, London

12 Courtroom, Grosvenor Square, London

13 Courtroom, Grosvenor Square

14 Courtroom, Grosvenor Square

15 Courtroom, Grosvenor Square

16 Colonel Kilian’s Hotel Suite, London

17 Courtroom, Grosvenor Square

18 Kilian’s Hotel Suite

19 Downtown London

20 The Two Brothers Pub, London

21 Trial Counsel’s Office, Grosvenor Square

22 Courtroom, Grosvenor Square

23 Courtroom Hallway, Grosvenor Square

24 Warehouse, London Wharfs

25 Courtroom, Grosvenor Square

26 Staff Judge Advocate’s Office

27 Defense Counsel’s Office, Grosvenor Square

28 Officers’ Mess, Hotel Carnelian

29 Courtroom, Grosvenor Square

30 Clancy’s Gym, Downtown London

31 Trial Judge Advocate’s Office

32 Streets of London

33 London Dockside Warehouse

34 Courtroom, Grosvenor Square

35 Courtroom, Grosvenor Square

36 Trial Counsel’s Office

37 Courtroom, Grosvenor Square

38 Staff Judge Advocate’s Office, Grosvenor Square

39 Courtroom, Grosvenor Square

40 Courtroom, Grosvenor Square

41 Officers’ Mess, Hotel Carnelian

42 The Pentagon, Office of the Secretary of War, Robert P. Patterson, Summer, 1946

43 Bad Nauheim, Germany, Fall, 1946

44 U.S. Senate Committee on Military Affairs, Washington, D.C., 1949

45 Senate Chambers, Washington, D.C., 1950

46 Chicago Tribune Offices, 1950

47 Earl Carroll’s Estate, Greenwich, Connecticut, 1950

48 Outside Mosul, Operation Desert Storm, 1991

Alphabetical Character Listing

About the Authors

Foreword

This is a story inspired by actual events. During the first week of February, 1946, a young Army lieutenant, Jack Gieck, spent part of his ten-day leave observing the court-martial of Sergeant Judson H. Smith in London, England. Smith was the centerpiece of an enormous military conspiracy involving the torture of thousands of American soldiers at the Army’s 10th Replacement Depot barracks located near Lichfield, in England’s midlands north of Birmingham. Initially, the story broke on December 5, 1945, in the military’s Stars and Stripes soldiers’ newspaper. Unfortunately, the Nazi Nuremburg tribunals overcame the public news interest of the story. 

In the 1970s, to his inestimable credit, Jack sought to bring to light one of the most remarkable chapters in American military justice history. He subsequently obtained the trial record and interviewed surviving witnesses of the Lichfield court-martial. His first-hand account is recorded in Lichfield, The U.S. Army on Trial published in 1997 by the University of Akron Press. 

When Greg Huckabee served as chair of the American Bar Association’s (ABA) Military Law Committee, he came across Jack’s book. He later invited Jack to give a presentation on this court-martial at an annual ABA meeting in Chicago. Jack knew there was more to tell about this story, and that it deserved a second look. He sent the court-martial record to Greg, encouraging him to follow up and share the full story.

What you read here is the result of 18 years of research, reflection, and story-telling. While Greg spent 27 years as a Regular Army judge advocate, his brother, Dale Keiser was an English and composition teacher at Mead High School in Spokane, Washington. They collaborated to share a special story inspired by Jack Gieck but lived by thousands who came to war to do their duty. What those men endured needs telling.

While based on the transcript, which is quoted at length, what happened behind the scenes outside the courtroom needed explanation. Many of the names and their testimony are factual. We added what we believe happened in some cases to fill in courtroom situations, but we introduced several fictional characters to interrupt what was a lengthy and unheard of 55-day court-martial. The souls involved have all long passed, including Jack Gieck. Nevertheless, the tension of military justice and good order and discipline are questions that continue to haunt our Armed Forces as the Sergeant Bowe Bergdahl, Private First Class Bradley Manning, Private Lynndie England, and other cases remind us.

No generation of Americans since 1775 has avoided the scourge of war. Freedom is not free. It requires eternal vigilance and sacrifice, as Revolutionary War patriots reminded us. There are two rules in war. Rule number one: young men and women die. Rule number two: you cannot change rule number one. At the hands of the enemy, such sacrifice is the price we pay for what we enjoy as a nation, but this sacrifice need not be at the hands of our own people. 

Chapter 1

Operation Desert Storm, Outside Mosul, Iraq

January 1991

Uh, hey? Lieutenant? We got something funky up here, the lead scout said.

Lt. Vince Fairchild peered through the dust and smoke, then he squinted at the corporal. Moving past the men in the line, Fairchild answered between breaths, Whatta ya got, Hendricks?

Two, no, three unknowns heading our way. Fast.

Fairchild squinted again, the sun in his eyes. Got ‘em. Good eyes, corporal. He turned to the squad. Not sure, he said softly. He was answered by men behind him moving apart, scanning for cover. He noticed the thumbing of safeties, and noted a few curses. Hang on, he urged. Let’s see what our Eye has to say. He turned. Hansen, dig into my rucksack and hand me my box. 

Private Hansen undid the Velcro straps and withdrew a black tablet-size computer from Fairchild’s pack. Handing it forward to Fairchild, Hansen murmured, Here you be, LT.

Fairchild opened the cover and accessed the drone program. Yep, we got three unidentifieds moving southwest toward our position. Behind them about one klick is … looks like a light truck with a mounted weapon of some type, and it is heading west. We got the Tigris another klick to the northeast, with bad guys supported by trench positions around the Hassani Bridge. Fairchild toggled the screen and mumbled, We got the armored units moving up on our right flank, but I don’t see shit on our left flank. Where the hell are they? The Kansas 52nd is supposed to have secured that bridge by now. We have no signal from them on the left. We’re blind from that side. He slammed the laptop closed. Where the frick are they? he growled.

Cpl. Hendricks peered through the low brush and rocks toward the approaching men. Uh, sir, they look like ours. Before anyone could answer, the corporal shouted, Halt! Password!

The three figures quailed, slowed, and raised their hands. Shit! Don’t shoot! We’re the good guys!

"Password!" shouted Fairchild. Right now!

Uh, crap! One of them turned to another, his eyes wide. What is it, Forster?

The blond one cringed. Dammit, corporal, I don’t know! Forster held his hands out. Shit, I don’t remember! Honest! He took a tentative step toward the patrol.

Corporal Hendricks, hold off, ordered Fairchild. To the three, Fairchild barked, You men have five seconds to convince me, or we will open fire!

For Chrissakes, we’re Americans! Forster pleaded. Dog Company, 52nd Infantry Battalion, Kansas National Guard. Lt. Garroway is—was—in charge until we lost him at that damn wadi over the hill there. He nodded over his shoulder at the ridge behind him. Bastards nailed us hard. I think he’s down. Radio don’t work and the sergeant was, well, I don’t know what happened. Forster took a step forward.

Stand still! Hendricks shouted.

Crap, we’re just lookin’ for help! pleaded the other private. We had to get outta there…that or get our asses handed to us!

From the squad behind the lieutenant came a voice. LT? No way. Fairchild glanced behind him at Sergeant Stevens, who lifted his goggles and moved up. He crouched next to the lieutenant. I don’t believe ‘em.

Fairchild smirked. Seen too many movies, sergeant? He turned to the three. Your officer… Garroway…what is his first name?

The three conferred quickly. Pvt. Wilson said, Uh, sir, I think I heard one the officers call him ‘Cliff.’

Where was he from? Fairchild spoke slower now.

The men shrugged their shoulders. Shit, sir, we din’t ask him. He was all about the WSU football team…uh, Cougars, I think?

Fairchild smiled thinly at Sgt. Stevens and then stood. Cougars can’t win against anyone but the University of the Deaf and Blind, he muttered. Turning to the men before him, he said, Lower your hands, you three. Approach and be recognized.

Shit, LT., thank you sir, thank you! said Private Forster as he lowered his hands. Hey, Wilson, he means you, too. Rogers, just relax. The three men lowered their arms and slowly approached, their heads lowered. To Stevens, the blond murmured, No hard feelings, man, right?

Stevens peered at them carefully, then said, Yeah, man. Just doin’ my job. He thumbed the safety to on and lowered the SAW.

You guys got water? asked Wilson. A private in the squad reached for his canteen and lobbed it to Wilson. The other men gathered around the threesome.

Where’s your gear, man? asked one.

Cpl. Rogers looked over the ridge. Gotta lighten the load when you’re…uh… he paused. Lost it, I guess.

How do you lose all that shit? asked another. The conversation grew strained.

We uh, well, y’know, you guys haven’t made contact with the enemy in force yet like we did… answered Rogers.

A tall private leaned in. What’re you saying, Kansas boy? he drawled.

Stevens looked at the private, and then at the LT. He warned Fairchild softly, Sir…

Fairchild interrupted, Relax, Stevens.

Sir? That’s not what I do, and you shouldn’t either, sir. said Rosell.

Fairchild undid his helmet strap and uncovered. Sergeant?

Stevens murmured, Sir, these guys could be anybody.

ISIS don’t know shit about Cougars or anybody else, Fairchild said.

"Well, sir, we should ask them what the hell happened, sir, and I mean right now," insisted Stevens.

Fairchild nodded. Agreed. He wedged his helmet under his arm and turned to the quiet threesome standing inside the circle of armed men. Just what happened to your gear, Rogers? he asked loudly.

The corporal looked from one of his buddies to the other. To tell the truth, sir, we, uh, kinda dumped it in order to get the hell outta there when we got suckered into that wadi and everything went to shit, sir.

Fairchild stiffened. Say what, corporal?

Wilson nudged Forster and nodded encouragement. Tell him, Josh.

Forster frowned deeply. We walked right into it, sir. They opened up on us from two, maybe three positions and chewed us right to shit, sir. Grenades and shit and heavy fire and the LT. went down and everyone was yellin’. We were digging in and holding our line, but they just came over their positions like they didn’t give a shit. They didn’t even slow down when they took a round, y’know? He gulped for air, and glanced at Rogers. What, Rogers, like, 150, 200 men?

That’s a firm, Josh, answered Rogers. I ain’t seen anything like that before. Freakin’ terrifyin’. And they had some heavy tube shit, too, sir.

Kansas guardsman Wilson spoke up. I don’t know about you, sir, but I ain’t gonna die in a hole and get chopped up by no frickin’ rag head, no sir.

So, what happened, corporal?

Rogers continued, We were in the back, and the other squad got overrun …my team was down, and I just bugged out, sir. He closed his eyes. I was outta ammo and I was about to shit myself…I saw a magic moment…and I ran.

The other men facing Rogers were silent, stony-eyed, and angry. Fairchild glanced at them. Then what? he added, As if I need to ask.

Wilson spoke up. I saw Forster go, and I went too. Rogers nodded. Wilson added, We dodged through a ravine, found an old stream bed under some cover, and we climbed that bastard like it was no tomorrow, sir.

You abandoned your squad, stated Fairchild flatly. You left your team to die, you threw down your weapons, and you ran. His eyes were narrow slits, almost black in the bright sun.

Forster lowered his head and nodded. Yes, sir, I guess we did. He licked his lips. I din’t wanna die today, sir. The other two stood glumly, looking at the dust at their feet.

Someone in the back of the circle muttered, Bastards left their team to die. Another added, Ain’t no way… Sergeant Stevens blew a long breath through pursed lips, and the rest of the team glared murderously at the threesome.

Sergeant Rosell murmured to the lieutenant, Whaddaya want to do, sir? The lanky sergeant continued, We got to be in position by 1530 hours. We got two, maybe three klicks to go. We got us and two other squads comin’ up behind us and we have to get around a damn heavy unit at that bridge.

Fairchild peered at the ridgeline, then turned to the squad. Sergeant, zip-tie their hands together…in the front. We’re heading out in two minutes. You other men gear up and stow that water.

You heard the man! shouted Stevens. Button it up. Hendricks—

Sir, you aren’t— gasped Forster. We ain’t gonna—

Hendricks, secure these men.

But sir—sergeant— spat Forster.

Fairchild turned. You have a problem, private?

Sir, just let us go, sir. We’ll head back, and no one the wiser. We’ll just say we got separated from our squad!

Corporal, privates, you are coming with us, Fairchild said calmly.

No sir, no frickin’ way! shouted Rogers.

Fairchild glanced back down the valley,