'A' for Argonaut by Michael J. Stedman Page A

and stood, all six-four inches of him. Flagpole straight, facing the tribunal.
    “I have a question for Major General Baltimore,” Maran said as he turned to the Major.
    “Sir, why did you order me to scrap my mission?”
    Baltimore rose. He squinted at Maran with piercing gray eyes. He turned, faced the bench.
    “We know little about that renegade group. Just that they’re a ragtag group of vicious terrorists: Ninja Crocodile Militia. Officially, they call themselves the Christian Revolutionary Army of Cabinda, CRAC,” he ridiculed. “Some Christians! A cult.
    “The Ninjas are in a protracted war with PFLEC. On the surface, their conflict is for control of arms, oil, and diamond smuggling in the region. That, however, is just part of the story. We intend to deal with that when the time comes. What Colonel Maran didn’t know was that the hostages were held by PFLEC, a former CIA client with a past history of fighting repression by the earlier Marxist government. Now they are an outlawed terrorist militia.”
    Maran couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew PFLEC from prior missions. He knew they would never have taken U.S. hostages‌—‌or any innocent civilians. It wasn’t their style. Nevertheless, Baltimore droned on.
    “PFLEC originally got its support with the full authority of the U.S. government through the CIA, operating covertly under E.O., ‘Executive Order,’ twelve-three-thirty-three. In fact, while I hate to say it, Maran’s mission, unwittingly or not, threatened not only those hostages but this country’s national security interests.”
    “What did you intend to do about those hostages?” Fahnestock asked.
    “We have sources there with influence. We were in a position to negotiate for their release,” Baltimore continued.
    Fahnestock turned to Maran.
    “So you were stuck in the middle, Colonel Maran. As a fellow warfighter, my heart goes out to you. Nevertheless, you disobeyed a direct order while engaged in combat. Though you might have wanted to save those hostages, fulfill your mission, your decision resulted in the loss of your entire team and half the American volunteer U.N. observers. Can you add any more light to these proceedings?”
    “Yes, sir. I know PFLEC. I don’t believe it was they that took those hostages. That order to abandon them recalled to me the disgraceful way President Kennedy reneged on the Cuban exiles when he called back the bombers we had pledged to use to cover them at the Bay of Pigs in 1961. We did the same with our friends in Saigon and again with the Kurds in Iraq in the first Gulf War. That wasn’t going to happen if I had a say. I wasn’t about to abandon those hostages.”
    “You disobeyed a direct order in a combat situation and led your men to their deaths,” Baltimore shouted, rising from his seat.
    Fahnestock gaveled him down.
    “Colonel Maran, I am compelled to ask you something before we end these proceedings. What were you thinking when you disobeyed General Baltimore’s order?”
    “Sir,” Maran said, straightening his back to attention mode. “To quote President Valentine when she placed the medal of honor over the shoulders of Marine Sergeant Alabama Smythe for his disobedience in rescuing thirteen Marines and twenty-three Afghan soldiers in Afghanistan, ‘He was defying orders but doing what he thought was right.’”
    Maran paused then sat. For the first time in his life, he felt nearly beaten. Though he had always prided himself on his self-sufficiency, he’d never felt so unsure. Now he was isolated, disowned, utterly alone. A leper to his own.
    At the end of the trial, Fahnestock wrote in his opinion that “America is a nation charged with a distinctive role in advancing the cause of liberty, equality, democracy, and prosperity in the world and has a mission on the historical stage as an agent of redemption. Truly ‘a shining city on a hill.’ In one sense, Colonel Maran’s courageous action exemplified that