(R)
On A Mission Of Murder
Authored By: Bradley Chapline
Page One
2003
Authored By: Bradley Chapline
Page One
2003
It was 1982, on a dreary day at the Marine Corps Air Station in Kaneohe Bay, Hawaii. The sun was behind the heavy clouds in the sky. It was drizzling rain and there was an odd sensation of a chill in the air. It appeared to be just another normal day in the making. Recently married for the second time, I now have a newborn son. I was living in base housing. Waking up this morning, I became agitated over feeling the dampness within this old rundown house that my family and I lived in. I thought, “Yeah, this is typical of the Marine Corps, keep us pissed off and living in misery.” What else was new? I took my Marine sergeant’s uniform from the closet. It smelled like mildew.
To have become a Marine sergeant was an absolute milestone for me. As a seemingly constant disciplinary problem in my past years, I had once faced being put out of the Marine Corps with an "other than honorable" discharge.
But, I was now married to a very good woman that gave me, for once, my own biological child. I had mostly transformed myself when I was given by Marine authorities one more chance to turn myself around. At that time, my commanding officer could not believe that the commanding general of the base, at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina had given me this opportunity. My captain was well aware that I had problems reading and writing, and that I had very minimal math skills. My CO was also aware that if I failed at anything required of me or got into any type of trouble that the end would be spelled out for me as a U.S. Marine.
There were all branches opening at Ft. Benning, Georgia for a “qualified” individual who would attend a Cross-Country Prisoner Escort academy. This was the military’s version of a U.S. Marshal’s school. This school was known to be a difficult academy to pass. Only a higher level educated Marine should have been considered.
But, my unit commanding officer had a different plan. He called me into his office and informed me that I would be attending this school.
I knew exactly what my CO was up to. I became quite fearful. I had been working so hard to keep myself on the straight and narrow. My thoughts were, “I’ll never make this school and I’ll be toast.”
During my interview with the commanding officer, he stated to me, “Chapline, this is the perfect school for you. Learning how to escort prisoners! You’re a criminal, and you’ve escaped our custody before, so this academy should be right up your alley. By the way, Chapline, if you wash out, you’ll be out of the Corps like you should have been a long time ago.” My body was now quivering with fear.
Several weeks later, I departed for training at Ft. Benning, Georgia. I had absolutely no idea how my CO got me approved to fill this training position. But, he must have known somebody in a powerful military rank and position.
I knew early on I was doomed, and would ultimately fail this school. Figuring I had nothing to lose, I confided in an instructor at the academy. Tech Sergeant Thomas Richardson turned out to be my savior. He worked with me almost every night into the wee small hours of the morning, attempting to get me to comprehend the basics skills of what was being taught.
For me, what took a normally educated person several minutes to read and understand took me much longer. Even though I was on the brink of exhaustion, I still refused to quit.
Unbelievably, I graduated third in my class. My commanding officer back at Camp Lejeune was stunned! He then accused me of academic fraud while attending this academy. His allegation was not true. And, this allegation was appropriately dismissed by authorities at the academy.
I successfully escorted many prisoners to Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas, without an escape and / or incident. In Hawaii, I was later promoted to Assistant Regional Director of Prisoner Security for the Far East region. It became one of my jobs to train other Marines as I was trained at the academy.
For once, I loved the Marine Corps and life in general. I was proud of myself, for I had come such a long way. I then applied for secondary duty. There was a position open for Secretary to the Commanding General of Kaneohe Marine Corps Air Station.
I went up against many other Marines who had relatively high IQ’s and immaculate service records. In reality, I knew I had no chance against them. But, like everyone else on the base, I was shocked when Brigadier General McClintock selected me as his secretary. The good general told me he didn’t want anymore “kiss-asses”. There became, quickly, what I felt to be a mutual respect between us. General McClintock, in the beginning, was like a God to me. He was a tough Marine general, who didn’t play politics and believed all Marines should be squared away, but, as well, never afraid to get down and dirty.
I arrived at work on this particular morning expecting a typical day, as usual, at the general’s office. As I walked into the headquarters building, a strange feeling overcame me. I just knew something was wrong, big-time! General McClintock was a one star general and had been passed over for his second star a couple of times. Should the general be passed over again, he would be forced to retire.
I received a shocking briefing. I learned that on the previous night, a company armory on the base was robbed of starlight scopes, machine guns, M-16 rifles, and .45 caliber pistols. My first thoughts were, “Oh no, this robbery happening under the general’s command will definitely finish off his career.” This incident was certainly big news on the national level, and even more so in the local community.
In the local news, this incident was the lead story for almost a week straight. I was well aware that when the Corps got a black eye, somebody was going to pay dearly. In this case, it was crystal clear to me that it would be General McClintock. I was certainly angered and I swore that if the individual(s) that perpetrated this crime ever came into my custody, they would pay dearly.
The military police and the naval investigative service on the Kaneohe base identified Lance Corporal Charles Chitat Ng as the ringleader of this armory robbery. He was now in the custody of the provost marshal’s office. I privately wondered how this robbery of a unit armory could have possibly occurred when there are always two Marine guards, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, walking this post. I thought, "Lance Corporal Ng had to have inside help."
When I arrived at the general’s office the following day, I was ordered by General McClintock's staff secretary, Major Swisher, “Sergeant Chapline, I want you to put your two best men on this assignment. Have them escort the prisoner over to the Pearl Harbor brig."
This facility was located on the other side of Oahu. I asked both the general and his staff secretary if I might handle this assignment myself. General McClintock and his staff secretary both denied my request. However, during these discussions on this issue, both high ranking Marine officers contended that my work was needed for administrative duties. President Ronald Reagan's Secretary of Defense, Caspar Weinberger, was due to visit our base at the Kaneohe Marine Corps Air Station in just three days.
So, I followed orders and assigned my two best students. Neither one was certified. One was an E-3, lance corporal, and the other, an E-4, corporal. I gave them specific instructions as to procedures once they obtained custody of Lance Corporal Charles Chitat Ng from the provost marshal’s office. Next they were to put prisoner Charles Ng in full body restraints, which consisted of belly chains and leg irons. They were then to administratively check Ng out from the Kaneohe base. They were then to transport Ng via military vehicle to the Pearl Harbor brig. In bold print on these orders, the words said, "Keep prisoners in close custody and in restraints at all times."
"Approximately four hours had passed and I had assumed my two chasers were conducting their duties as instructed. My office was located right next to General McClintock’s and directly across the hall from the chief of staff, Colonel Dinnage, and his staff secretary, Major Swisher.
I suddenly hear a boisterous yell. “Sergeant Chapline, get your f ing ass in here right away!” I jumped up and ran into the general’s office. General McClintock was now sitting at his desk with a blank look on his face. He was flanked by his chief of staff and staff secretary, Major Swisher.
The general's staff secretary was furious with me. Literally screaming at me, “Chapline, you stupid mother-fucker. Ng has escaped custody, he’s fucking gone!" I inquired as to how this could have happened. The general's staff secretary, again, angrily replies, “Ng overpowered both guards with the use of his martial arts. Do you have any fucking idea, Chapline, what this fuck-up is going to do to us, you stupid fucking bastard?"
The general's staff secretary just continued on ranting and raving. “Chapline, you should have handled this yourself. A prisoner of this magnitude and you put two of your students on this! You are going to hang, and I’ll personally see to it!” I was stunned at the lies coming from Major Swisher.
I then looked at General McClintock with contempt. I said, “I can assure you, General, that these two men had been thoroughly briefed in their duties and responsibilities. And then, still looking directly at General McClintock, I said, "Respectfully general, I did warn you and your aides that these two chasers trained by me had not been certified. Additionally sir, I respectfully asked you that I be able handle this situation alone with prisoner Charles Chitat Ng. General, you and your staff secretary denied my request to handle this prisoner transport. Now, you want to burn me and make me the fall-guy?”
The general's staff secretary quickly jumped in and yelled, “Chapline, you are a fucking liar! This is your entire fault, and has nothing to do whatsoever with the general and me!” Then, General McClintock just turned his head away from me. No doubt, the general was very disappointed in me. No doubt he expected me to take the total fall for all this. I thought, "All those who knew I performed my duties diligently, had to know that should Lance Corporal Charles Chitat Ng have been in my custody, he would have never escaped." I figured I would have some very good character witnesses at my court-martial.
The following day, the news of prisoner Charles Chitat Ng's escape from custody hit the local media on the island of Oahu. The reporters were having a field day with us. With the amount of dangerous weapons that were unaccounted from the Ng armory robbery, the local Hawaiians were going to hold us accountable for basically putting the civilian community at risk. I also knew, at this point, the most important thing was to get all those weapons back in our possession. This was pretty much an impossible task without having Ng in custody. It was not known whether or not Ng was being harbored by someone on the island, or whether he had completely escaped off the island of Oahu. I realized, once again, I would be the general’s fall guy. The Marine Corps had yet another black eye, and I was convinced I was the one going to pay dearly for this.
In mid-afternoon, the general's staff secretary again confronts me, angrily, “Sergeant Chapline, I interviewed the two chasers that Charles Ng escaped from. They said that you have never trained them in how to handle a high security risk prisoner of this nature." I replied, “Major, sir, respectfully, that is a fucking lie.” The major fired back, “Really, Sergeant Chapline? I have their record books right here in front of me. Show me in the training section of their SRB’s (Service Record Book) where you have documented what you taught them?” I just stood there, frozen, without answering. I knew full well that I had not entered any of the training I had conducted with them into their service record books. It was apparent now that I was in real deep trouble.
In the Marine Corps, more than any other branch of the armed services, it was a golden rule that whenever any type of training is provided, it MUST be documented in the Marine’s service record book. I said, “Major, please, I’ve been doing two full-time jobs. I just didn’t have the time to make all those administrative entries.” The major shot back, sharply, “That’s bullshit, Chapline. You apparently had time to get married, get your wife pregnant, and run all over the island with your woman.” I wanted to rip this major’s face off. But, in essence, I knew he was right. Duty comes before anything. And I was well aware of the Supreme Court's aphorism, “If it’s not documented, it never happened.”
To have become a Marine sergeant was an absolute milestone for me. As a seemingly constant disciplinary problem in my past years, I had once faced being put out of the Marine Corps with an "other than honorable" discharge.
But, I was now married to a very good woman that gave me, for once, my own biological child. I had mostly transformed myself when I was given by Marine authorities one more chance to turn myself around. At that time, my commanding officer could not believe that the commanding general of the base, at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina had given me this opportunity. My captain was well aware that I had problems reading and writing, and that I had very minimal math skills. My CO was also aware that if I failed at anything required of me or got into any type of trouble that the end would be spelled out for me as a U.S. Marine.
There were all branches opening at Ft. Benning, Georgia for a “qualified” individual who would attend a Cross-Country Prisoner Escort academy. This was the military’s version of a U.S. Marshal’s school. This school was known to be a difficult academy to pass. Only a higher level educated Marine should have been considered.
But, my unit commanding officer had a different plan. He called me into his office and informed me that I would be attending this school.
I knew exactly what my CO was up to. I became quite fearful. I had been working so hard to keep myself on the straight and narrow. My thoughts were, “I’ll never make this school and I’ll be toast.”
During my interview with the commanding officer, he stated to me, “Chapline, this is the perfect school for you. Learning how to escort prisoners! You’re a criminal, and you’ve escaped our custody before, so this academy should be right up your alley. By the way, Chapline, if you wash out, you’ll be out of the Corps like you should have been a long time ago.” My body was now quivering with fear.
Several weeks later, I departed for training at Ft. Benning, Georgia. I had absolutely no idea how my CO got me approved to fill this training position. But, he must have known somebody in a powerful military rank and position.
I knew early on I was doomed, and would ultimately fail this school. Figuring I had nothing to lose, I confided in an instructor at the academy. Tech Sergeant Thomas Richardson turned out to be my savior. He worked with me almost every night into the wee small hours of the morning, attempting to get me to comprehend the basics skills of what was being taught.
For me, what took a normally educated person several minutes to read and understand took me much longer. Even though I was on the brink of exhaustion, I still refused to quit.
Unbelievably, I graduated third in my class. My commanding officer back at Camp Lejeune was stunned! He then accused me of academic fraud while attending this academy. His allegation was not true. And, this allegation was appropriately dismissed by authorities at the academy.
I successfully escorted many prisoners to Ft. Leavenworth, Kansas, without an escape and / or incident. In Hawaii, I was later promoted to Assistant Regional Director of Prisoner Security for the Far East region. It became one of my jobs to train other Marines as I was trained at the academy.
For once, I loved the Marine Corps and life in general. I was proud of myself, for I had come such a long way. I then applied for secondary duty. There was a position open for Secretary to the Commanding General of Kaneohe Marine Corps Air Station.
I went up against many other Marines who had relatively high IQ’s and immaculate service records. In reality, I knew I had no chance against them. But, like everyone else on the base, I was shocked when Brigadier General McClintock selected me as his secretary. The good general told me he didn’t want anymore “kiss-asses”. There became, quickly, what I felt to be a mutual respect between us. General McClintock, in the beginning, was like a God to me. He was a tough Marine general, who didn’t play politics and believed all Marines should be squared away, but, as well, never afraid to get down and dirty.
I arrived at work on this particular morning expecting a typical day, as usual, at the general’s office. As I walked into the headquarters building, a strange feeling overcame me. I just knew something was wrong, big-time! General McClintock was a one star general and had been passed over for his second star a couple of times. Should the general be passed over again, he would be forced to retire.
I received a shocking briefing. I learned that on the previous night, a company armory on the base was robbed of starlight scopes, machine guns, M-16 rifles, and .45 caliber pistols. My first thoughts were, “Oh no, this robbery happening under the general’s command will definitely finish off his career.” This incident was certainly big news on the national level, and even more so in the local community.
In the local news, this incident was the lead story for almost a week straight. I was well aware that when the Corps got a black eye, somebody was going to pay dearly. In this case, it was crystal clear to me that it would be General McClintock. I was certainly angered and I swore that if the individual(s) that perpetrated this crime ever came into my custody, they would pay dearly.
The military police and the naval investigative service on the Kaneohe base identified Lance Corporal Charles Chitat Ng as the ringleader of this armory robbery. He was now in the custody of the provost marshal’s office. I privately wondered how this robbery of a unit armory could have possibly occurred when there are always two Marine guards, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, walking this post. I thought, "Lance Corporal Ng had to have inside help."
When I arrived at the general’s office the following day, I was ordered by General McClintock's staff secretary, Major Swisher, “Sergeant Chapline, I want you to put your two best men on this assignment. Have them escort the prisoner over to the Pearl Harbor brig."
This facility was located on the other side of Oahu. I asked both the general and his staff secretary if I might handle this assignment myself. General McClintock and his staff secretary both denied my request. However, during these discussions on this issue, both high ranking Marine officers contended that my work was needed for administrative duties. President Ronald Reagan's Secretary of Defense, Caspar Weinberger, was due to visit our base at the Kaneohe Marine Corps Air Station in just three days.
So, I followed orders and assigned my two best students. Neither one was certified. One was an E-3, lance corporal, and the other, an E-4, corporal. I gave them specific instructions as to procedures once they obtained custody of Lance Corporal Charles Chitat Ng from the provost marshal’s office. Next they were to put prisoner Charles Ng in full body restraints, which consisted of belly chains and leg irons. They were then to administratively check Ng out from the Kaneohe base. They were then to transport Ng via military vehicle to the Pearl Harbor brig. In bold print on these orders, the words said, "Keep prisoners in close custody and in restraints at all times."
"Approximately four hours had passed and I had assumed my two chasers were conducting their duties as instructed. My office was located right next to General McClintock’s and directly across the hall from the chief of staff, Colonel Dinnage, and his staff secretary, Major Swisher.
I suddenly hear a boisterous yell. “Sergeant Chapline, get your f ing ass in here right away!” I jumped up and ran into the general’s office. General McClintock was now sitting at his desk with a blank look on his face. He was flanked by his chief of staff and staff secretary, Major Swisher.
The general's staff secretary was furious with me. Literally screaming at me, “Chapline, you stupid mother-fucker. Ng has escaped custody, he’s fucking gone!" I inquired as to how this could have happened. The general's staff secretary, again, angrily replies, “Ng overpowered both guards with the use of his martial arts. Do you have any fucking idea, Chapline, what this fuck-up is going to do to us, you stupid fucking bastard?"
The general's staff secretary just continued on ranting and raving. “Chapline, you should have handled this yourself. A prisoner of this magnitude and you put two of your students on this! You are going to hang, and I’ll personally see to it!” I was stunned at the lies coming from Major Swisher.
I then looked at General McClintock with contempt. I said, “I can assure you, General, that these two men had been thoroughly briefed in their duties and responsibilities. And then, still looking directly at General McClintock, I said, "Respectfully general, I did warn you and your aides that these two chasers trained by me had not been certified. Additionally sir, I respectfully asked you that I be able handle this situation alone with prisoner Charles Chitat Ng. General, you and your staff secretary denied my request to handle this prisoner transport. Now, you want to burn me and make me the fall-guy?”
The general's staff secretary quickly jumped in and yelled, “Chapline, you are a fucking liar! This is your entire fault, and has nothing to do whatsoever with the general and me!” Then, General McClintock just turned his head away from me. No doubt, the general was very disappointed in me. No doubt he expected me to take the total fall for all this. I thought, "All those who knew I performed my duties diligently, had to know that should Lance Corporal Charles Chitat Ng have been in my custody, he would have never escaped." I figured I would have some very good character witnesses at my court-martial.
The following day, the news of prisoner Charles Chitat Ng's escape from custody hit the local media on the island of Oahu. The reporters were having a field day with us. With the amount of dangerous weapons that were unaccounted from the Ng armory robbery, the local Hawaiians were going to hold us accountable for basically putting the civilian community at risk. I also knew, at this point, the most important thing was to get all those weapons back in our possession. This was pretty much an impossible task without having Ng in custody. It was not known whether or not Ng was being harbored by someone on the island, or whether he had completely escaped off the island of Oahu. I realized, once again, I would be the general’s fall guy. The Marine Corps had yet another black eye, and I was convinced I was the one going to pay dearly for this.
In mid-afternoon, the general's staff secretary again confronts me, angrily, “Sergeant Chapline, I interviewed the two chasers that Charles Ng escaped from. They said that you have never trained them in how to handle a high security risk prisoner of this nature." I replied, “Major, sir, respectfully, that is a fucking lie.” The major fired back, “Really, Sergeant Chapline? I have their record books right here in front of me. Show me in the training section of their SRB’s (Service Record Book) where you have documented what you taught them?” I just stood there, frozen, without answering. I knew full well that I had not entered any of the training I had conducted with them into their service record books. It was apparent now that I was in real deep trouble.
In the Marine Corps, more than any other branch of the armed services, it was a golden rule that whenever any type of training is provided, it MUST be documented in the Marine’s service record book. I said, “Major, please, I’ve been doing two full-time jobs. I just didn’t have the time to make all those administrative entries.” The major shot back, sharply, “That’s bullshit, Chapline. You apparently had time to get married, get your wife pregnant, and run all over the island with your woman.” I wanted to rip this major’s face off. But, in essence, I knew he was right. Duty comes before anything. And I was well aware of the Supreme Court's aphorism, “If it’s not documented, it never happened.”
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