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Surprised, I turned to Da
“Come on. You two have never been soul mates.”
“But we’ve always been cordial.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Da
I tried to think how long it had been since I’d seen Dimitriadus. Twelve years at least. He’d been deployed on missions the last few times I’d been to the CIL.
“Is Dimitriadus still peeved over the Kingston-Washington fiasco?”
Bernard Kingston died along with three others from a skimmer boat on the Mekong River in ’67. Thirty years later, four partial skeletons arrived at the CIL.
Long story. Short version, locals buried the seamen when they washed ashore, told their story in ’95, hoping for cash.
Dimitriadus caught the files. On review, I bonged his report, suspecting that two of the IDs had been reversed. Turned out I was right.
“Is that it?” I pressed.
Da
“Jesus, that was ages ago.”
“What can I tell you?” Da
We passed no one else on the way to Da
“Seems quiet.” I remembered a lot more hustle and bustle.
“A lot of folks are out in the field.”
Da
Quick primer on JPAC operations.
Once a loss incident case file has been opened and a likely body location has been pinpointed, an investigative team, or IT, is deployed to the scene. Could be anywhere—a rice paddy in Southeast Asia, a cliffside in Papua New Guinea, a mountaintop in the Himalayas, an underwater trench off the coast of Tunisia.
An IT is composed of ten to fourteen people, led by a team leader and a forensic anthropologist, the former responsible for the overall safety and success of the mission, the latter for the actual excavation. Other members include a team sergeant, linguist, medic, life-support technician, forensic photographer, and explosive ordnance disposal technician. Additional experts patch in as needed—mountaineering specialists, divers, and such.
Recovery sites range from a few square meters, as with single burials, to areas larger than football fields, as with aircraft crashes. The anthropologist kicks things off by laying out a grid with stakes and string, then, one by one, individual sections are dug. All soil is hand-sifted to maximize retrieval of the tiniest skeletal bits or fragments of associated artifacts. Depending on circumstances, a handful or a hundred local workers may be hired for a project.
Once everything’s back at the CIL, the lab rats gear up, examining bones, teeth, and material evidence and correlating all findings with historical records.
The anthropologist constructs as complete a biological profile as possible, analyzes trauma, and describes pathological conditions such as arthritis or old healed fractures. The odontologist compares recovered dentition to X-rays, handwritten charts, and treatment notes in antemortem records. Each collects a sample for mitochondrial DNA testing.
Material evidence varies from case to case. Aircraft data plates. Ordnance or weapons. Packs, mess kits, uniforms. Life-support equipment. Personal effects, such as rings, watches, or combs. Every shred, splinter, and chip is scrutinized.
As you can imagine, all this research, recovery, and analysis is labor-intensive, and an identification may take years for completion. If mtDNA is obtained from the bones or teeth, the search for family reference samples can add more time to the process.
Even then it’s not over. Every positive ID requires review at multiple levels, including external study by independent experts. That’s where I came in. For years I evaluated dossiers, dissecting the overlapping lines of evidence relevant to a particular set of remains.
Seems like beaucoup bother and bucks, you say? Trust me. The effort and expense pay off. On average, JPAC identifies six individuals each month. To date, more than 1,400 military perso
Bottom line, our troops know: should they march off to war, one way or another, we’re bringing them home.
“How many recovery missions are deployed each year?” No longer affiliated with JPAC, I hadn’t a sense of current numbers.
“At least ten in Southeast Asia, maybe five associated with the Korean War.” Da
Da
The desk held a similar array of memorabilia. A Micronesian sculpture made of what looked like pig tusks. A painted coconut. A miniature skeleton with Da
Da
Working through the documents reminded me how much time I’d spent squinting at smeared carbon copies of forms, faded message traffic, and illegible script. Spider’s record review took an hour.
“You’ve been swabbed?”
Da
I nodded.
We crossed to the glass wall and Da
The Lumberton remains had been accessioned as 2010-37. Da
Red Sweater rose and pressed a button. Floor-to-ceiling shelving opened and he disappeared down a row. Moments later he reappeared with a long, white cardboard box.
I knew the routine. The remains would be assigned a specific table where they would be allowed to remain for thirty days. The transaction would be entered into the computer tracking system, and the location of the bones would be diagrammed on a blackboard on one wall of the room.
Da
We both gloved, then Da
I lifted the cover.
The remains were as I remembered, skull shattered, lower arms and hands and both feet missing, cortical surfaces darkly mottled and covered by pink-white mold and charred muck.
Working silently, Da
When the skeleton was arranged anatomically, we ran inventory, with Da
Inventory finished, he went through the same steps I’d followed at the funeral home. With the same findings.
The remains were those of a male who died between the ages of eighteen and twenty-five. Race remained elusive.
“Nothing to exclude Spider Lowery,” Da
“And nothing to positively ID him.”
“Teeth are out.”
“We might spot root fragments when we X-ray. Or we could compare alveolar configurations.” I referred to the shape of the tooth sockets.
Da
Da