her. A G.I.—an officer, actually. One Captain Frederick Raymond Embry.”
“Never heard of him.”
“Neither have I. She says she met him when he was an ROTC cadet at Texas A&M. They started dating, only casually, and then she got busy with her band and they drifted apart. But later he came to visit her after he received his commission.”
“Where was all this at?”
“At the time, she’d moved to Austin, Texas. Freddy Ray, as she calls him, apparently looked real attractive to her, wearing his uniform with his shiny new butter bars, and that’s when it happened.”
“What happened?”
“She got pregnant.”
“Did she have the kid?”
“Of course. She’s a good Southern girl. Goes to church every Sunday.”
“So, where’s the kid now?”
“Staying with Marnie’s mother.”
“And she wants you to find this Freddy Ray?”
“You got it.”
I sipped my coffee again. “Are you going to do it?”
“He owes her child support.”
Maybe, maybe not, I thought. There are ways for state agencies to apply through the Department of the Army to collect back child support directly from a soldier’s pay.
“Why doesn’t she use the usual channels?” I asked.
“She has. Hasn’t worked. Maybe Freddy Ray has some influence with the Finance Officer.”
I didn’t believe it. When a mandated allotment is slapped on a soldier’s pay, as far as I knew, there was no way around it. Still, Ernie seemed to be buying the story.
“So, what are you going to do?”
“Find him,” he said. “Can’t hurt.”
“How does she know he’s stationed over here?”
“Mutual acquaintances.”
“Does she know what unit?”
“No idea.”
“You shouldn’t be doing this,” I said.
“I know.”
“Think about it.”
Ernie tossed his empty Styrofoam cup out the jeep’s window. “I just did.”
“What’d you decide?”
“Screw her.”
“That’s what you’ve been doing.”
“And I’ll do it some more, unless she decides she doesn’t like it when I tell her she can find her old boyfriend on her own.”
The cannon sounded in the distance for Close of Duty Day. Metal speakers at the edge of the parking lot belted out a scratchy version of the bugle call for retreat.
“Damn,” Ernie said.
We both clambered out of the jeep, stood at attention facing the main post flagpole, and saluted. I always felt like an ass doing this. So did Ernie. Normally we’d be indoors at this time of day so we didn’t have to go through the ritual of standing at attention and saluting a flag being lowered somewhere off in the unseen distance. But today, what with all that was happening, we hadn’t paid attention to the time.
When we returned to the CID office, Miss Kim had already gone home, but Riley was waiting for us. Frowning.
“The Provost Marshal wants to see you,” he said.
“You’ve been talking to the KNP Liaison Officer,” Colonel Brace told us. “And don’t try to deny it.”
“We just wanted to keep him updated on the case,” I said.
“I ordered you off it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So now that you told this Lieutenant Pong that 8th Army has decided not to exercise jurisdiction, he ran it up the flagpole, and somebody in the ROK government decided they didn’t agree. So now the word comes down from the Chief of Staff that they want you, both of you, tomorrow morning at zero eight hundred hours to report to the SOFA meeting at the J-1 building.”
Colonel Brace rubbed his eyes, as if he were extremely tired. “When will you two guys learn to keep your mouths shut?”
We didn’t answer.
“Do you know where the J-1 building is?” he asked.
I nodded my head. “Yes, sir. We know.”
SOFA stands for the Status of Forces Agreement, the treaty between the US and the Republic of Korea concerning the legal standing of American forces stationed on the Korean peninsula. Whenever there’s a dispute that needs to be resolved or a serious crime that comes to their attention, the SOFA Committee
“Never heard of him.”
“Neither have I. She says she met him when he was an ROTC cadet at Texas A&M. They started dating, only casually, and then she got busy with her band and they drifted apart. But later he came to visit her after he received his commission.”
“Where was all this at?”
“At the time, she’d moved to Austin, Texas. Freddy Ray, as she calls him, apparently looked real attractive to her, wearing his uniform with his shiny new butter bars, and that’s when it happened.”
“What happened?”
“She got pregnant.”
“Did she have the kid?”
“Of course. She’s a good Southern girl. Goes to church every Sunday.”
“So, where’s the kid now?”
“Staying with Marnie’s mother.”
“And she wants you to find this Freddy Ray?”
“You got it.”
I sipped my coffee again. “Are you going to do it?”
“He owes her child support.”
Maybe, maybe not, I thought. There are ways for state agencies to apply through the Department of the Army to collect back child support directly from a soldier’s pay.
“Why doesn’t she use the usual channels?” I asked.
“She has. Hasn’t worked. Maybe Freddy Ray has some influence with the Finance Officer.”
I didn’t believe it. When a mandated allotment is slapped on a soldier’s pay, as far as I knew, there was no way around it. Still, Ernie seemed to be buying the story.
“So, what are you going to do?”
“Find him,” he said. “Can’t hurt.”
“How does she know he’s stationed over here?”
“Mutual acquaintances.”
“Does she know what unit?”
“No idea.”
“You shouldn’t be doing this,” I said.
“I know.”
“Think about it.”
Ernie tossed his empty Styrofoam cup out the jeep’s window. “I just did.”
“What’d you decide?”
“Screw her.”
“That’s what you’ve been doing.”
“And I’ll do it some more, unless she decides she doesn’t like it when I tell her she can find her old boyfriend on her own.”
The cannon sounded in the distance for Close of Duty Day. Metal speakers at the edge of the parking lot belted out a scratchy version of the bugle call for retreat.
“Damn,” Ernie said.
We both clambered out of the jeep, stood at attention facing the main post flagpole, and saluted. I always felt like an ass doing this. So did Ernie. Normally we’d be indoors at this time of day so we didn’t have to go through the ritual of standing at attention and saluting a flag being lowered somewhere off in the unseen distance. But today, what with all that was happening, we hadn’t paid attention to the time.
When we returned to the CID office, Miss Kim had already gone home, but Riley was waiting for us. Frowning.
“The Provost Marshal wants to see you,” he said.
“You’ve been talking to the KNP Liaison Officer,” Colonel Brace told us. “And don’t try to deny it.”
“We just wanted to keep him updated on the case,” I said.
“I ordered you off it.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So now that you told this Lieutenant Pong that 8th Army has decided not to exercise jurisdiction, he ran it up the flagpole, and somebody in the ROK government decided they didn’t agree. So now the word comes down from the Chief of Staff that they want you, both of you, tomorrow morning at zero eight hundred hours to report to the SOFA meeting at the J-1 building.”
Colonel Brace rubbed his eyes, as if he were extremely tired. “When will you two guys learn to keep your mouths shut?”
We didn’t answer.
“Do you know where the J-1 building is?” he asked.
I nodded my head. “Yes, sir. We know.”
SOFA stands for the Status of Forces Agreement, the treaty between the US and the Republic of Korea concerning the legal standing of American forces stationed on the Korean peninsula. Whenever there’s a dispute that needs to be resolved or a serious crime that comes to their attention, the SOFA Committee
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