Free Chasing Pancho Villa by R. L. Tecklenburg Page B

eh?” Juan smiled slightly.
    â€œAre you keeping notes of my activities here, Juan?” Harrison asked.
    â€œAh, no, señor. He say to report to him after you leave. Only this. Anyway, I do not write Ingles so well.”
    As they walked together toward the parade field, neither spoke. James wondered how much more the sergeant knew.
    When they reached the field, Sergeant Parilla stopped. The soldier indicated a formation of 40 men marching toward them with their rifles at shoulder-arms. Parilla waved to the officer.
    â€œPlatoon, halt!” the man ordered the formation.
    Parilla approached the lieutenant and quickly briefed him. He turned back to James. “Señor,” he called. “I give you privacy with your talk. When you are ready, wave and I will come to take you.”
    The lieutenant waited with his soldiers standing at attention. The sergeant walked over to the formation and saluted. Lieutenant Floyd returned the salute. “Sergeant Parilla…” he called so the troopers would hear, “…take over.” The tall man stepped away from the formation and walked toward James, taking long, measured strides.
    â€œLieutenant, I am Harrison James, the brother of Captain James,” he said as the officer reached him.
    â€œFirst Lieutenant Roger Floyd, United States Army, sir.”
    The two men shook hands.
    â€œI have some questions, sir. Could we talk privately?” Harrison noticed that this officer seemed more relaxed. He hoped the man would feel more comfortable answering his questions than the major.
    â€œOf course, Mr. James,” the tall soldier said. “Let’s stroll…if you don’t mind, sir.”
    Sergeant Parilla watched out of the corner of his eye as the two Anglos walked away into the dust. “Señor James, I return for you, eh?” he yelled as he marched the formation of soldiers away across the field.
    â€œYes,” Harrison said, distracted. “I’m trying to get an accurate picture of my brother’s death,” he explained to the tall lieutenant. “Lieutenant, were you nearby when my brother died?” They walked slowly across the dusty field, avoiding other groups of soldiers around them
    â€œSir, I want to tell you how sorry I am about your brother’s death. He was a fine man.”
    â€œI appreciate that,” Harrison said. “Again, when Bart died, were you near the tent?”
    The soldier hesitated, and then blushed. “I’m afraid I was indisposed.”
    â€œIndisposed, lieutenant?” Harrison turned to see the suddenly red face beside him.
    â€œYes, I had had too much tequila. It’s a major pastime in these parts,” he added.
    â€œYou served with my brother in Houston, lieutenant?” Harrison continued, ignoring the confession.
    â€œYes, sir. And in Mexico. Chasing Pancho Villa.”
    â€œDid it strike you as strange that my brother would commit suicide?”
    â€œNo sir, it did not. Considering recent events, it was certainly possible, and even likely. Houston was a difficult time, Mr. James. The pressure on all of us has been extreme. The question of what went wrong there haunted the battalion officers, and most of all, your brother. We all tried to keep busy, to not think about the court martial. Yet, your brother…. I thought he kept more to himself after we returned. He was always busy with something, and never wanted to talk and relax with his brother officers.”
    â€œI see.” Harrison paused. “Tell me, did my brother’s Negro soldiers mutiny?”
    â€œNo sir, they didn’t. No one from our company left the area.”
    â€œI don’t understand,” Harrison said. “If your company wasn’t part of the mutiny…?
    â€œCaptain James was Officer of the Day, responsible for keeping order, ensuring the Battalion was secure. Our men were on police detail that day. Doing gate duty, patrols around the camp