by David Poyer
26
WHEN the Court sat the survivors settled with a collective sigh and rustle. The members slid tablets in front of them. One cleared his throat. Another leaned back, his expression inscrutable as a heron’s. The court reporter turned a pencil in a hand sharpener.
The witness entered from the corridor, a guard flanking him. As they came up the aisle, the marine dropped back and he walked the last few feet to the stand alone, his gait rolling, a sailor home from the sea.
“You are called here to give material evidence in the matter of the recent collision between USS Reynolds Ryan and USS Kennedy. Raise your right hand. Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”
“I do.”
The man in the chair was familiar. Medium height. Heavy shoulders. Slow big hands working at a heat-darkened pipe.
“State your name, rank, branch of service, and present duty station.”
The witness turned to the onlookers, the pipe jutting above a hard, tanned jaw.
“My name is James Packer, U.S. Navy, captain of USS Reynolds Ryan.”
* * *
LENSON came awake suddenly in the darkened room. His sheets were damp with sweat. Beside him his wife slept, her breath soft on his shoulder. Warm air hissed through ventilators, a shiplike sound, comforting.
He lay motionless, retracing his dreams. They’d been more vivid, more real than this anonymously comfortable room.
He’d wandered across a wasteland with a party of pilgrims, and bowed, hands together, before a shriveled elder with agate eyes and yellowing beard. The ancient face was familiar. With no sense of surprise, he recognized it as his own. Then they were together on the bridge of a ship, sliding outward over a sea hot and clear and flat as a melt of flint glass.
But somehow the voyage had ended in the wasteland again. Dark faces crowded round where he lay staked to the sand. Something he wasn’t supposed to tell. Under him the desert burned, and a hand set live coals to smolder on his chest and arm.
“So. Who was this trusting lamb?”
“I can’t tell you that, sir.”
“This here’s the real world, boy. We all have to bend a little once in a while.”
Then suddenly the stuffy room where men sat like Osiris in judgment on the dead. He’d read that in one of Susan’s books. From those dead, the captain had returned, and he’d laughed in relief—
He turned impatiently yet carefully, tossing back the sheets. The only thread stitching his dreams was heat. He thought of adjusting the thermostat, but Susan liked it warm. He had no idea what time it was. The sky beyond the window was black.
He frowned. Not completely black. Distant, but clear, several small lights glimmered white and red and green—
The towering silhouette of an aircraft carrier condensed silently and tremendously out of the dark. The creaming hiss of the bow wave stopped his heart. No, he thought. Not again! Sweat stung his face. He stared up helplessly as his fingers clamped on the steel splinter shield.
At last the dream, or vision, faded, leaving him rigid and trembling. The North Atlantic, the cries of burning men became grieving ghosts in the wind, then merged again with the seamless hiss. You’re safe, he told vengeful memory. You’re alive and Betts is here and the worst that can happen is prison. No, being honest with himself, that wasn’t likely, either. They’d take his inexperience into account. He’d be assigned an office somewhere, issued a typewriter and paper, and left alone till he got around to his letter of resignation.
He sweated like an iceberg in the sun, staring into the hissing dark. The Navy had been all he’d wanted for so long, he couldn’t imagine himself outside it.
The inquiry couldn’t last much longer. They’d gone through Ryan’s dying moments again and again; had seen it through his eyes, Silver’s, Bryce’s, Traven’s, Reed’s, Lassard’s. Johnstone kept things moving. He broke each witness’s pride and made him admit error. The counsel for the court had grilled Hoelscher and Javits as hard as anyone from Ryan. So far as Dan could tell, he had no partiality. But the scales were weighted against Packer.
Dan saw again the steady, passionless, attentive faces of admirals. Their judges said little. Only the senior member, Ausura, put an occasional question. Only at the end would they pronounce. First they listened.
Listened to Bryce, and Lassard, and the others who lied.…
But he couldn’t prove they lied.
He was the only one left who was telling the truth. The only one Bryce had not somehow suborned or intimidated.
But he couldn’t prove it.
Therefore … maybe he’d better just accept that. He was only an ensign. Dead men’s reputations weren’t his concern. Maybe he’d better bend a little. Or after the trial, Lassard and the others might come by one day.
On the far side of the bed, Susan muttered, rolled, tossed out an arm. Her curled fingers brushed his face. Against the wash of city lights, he studied her unconscious shadow.
Since his attempt at intimacy, she’d lost interest in the trial. She went out during the day, to museums or to the Library of Congress, she said. When the Court adjourned, she was waiting in the car. But there was no warmth. Always before when they’d disagreed, they’d smoothed it over; one would apologize and the other forgive. Now she received his attempts at making up with outward acquiescence but without a smile, without sign of love.
He let self-pity scorch his eyes. Didn’t she know how hard this was for him? Wasn’t she supposed to understand? A tear trickled into his ear.
They should go away somewhere, after the trial. Maybe they could catch a hop to San Juan, there were flights out of Andrews, spend a few days in a hotel on the beach—
As he was thinking this, her arm flinched and the fingers closed. They moved upward, brushed his cheek again, then fell on his shoulder. Not hard enough to hurt, but unexpected enough to make him flinch.
“Dan?” A whisper.
“Yeah?”
“You awake?”
“Yeah.”
“Jesus. What time—wait—it’s four. Can’t you sleep?”
“I slept for a while. Just woke up.”
She was silent. He said, “I was thinking … wouldn’t you like to go somewhere after the trial, someplace down south? I was hoping—”
“Dan, I’m due in a few weeks. And even if I wasn’t, I’ve got finals coming. I’m missing classes to be here.”
“Just three days. A weekend.”
“I don’t think so. It’s not a good idea.”
“Betts, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’ve just got some thinking to do.”
He felt the shadow creep over him, cover his heart, and darken. She lay turned from him, and he listened to the slow ticking of the clock.
* * *
THE Court reconvened at 0920.
Present: Vice Admiral Ausura, USN, president; Rear Admiral Morehead, USN, member; Rear Admiral Dennison, USN, member.
Lieutenant Commander Stanley Johnstone, counsel for the Court.
Lieutenant Robert Hauck, counsel representing Commander Packer.
Mr. Charles Barrett, counsel for Lieutenant Evlin.
No witnesses or personnel not otherwise connected with the inquiry were present.
Lieutenant Commander Benjamin Bryce was recalled as a witness by the counsel for the Court. He was reminded that his previous oath was still binding.
Examined by the counsel for the Court.
Q. Commander, during your previous testimony you made allegations relating to the competence of Lieutenant Alan Evlin and Ensign Daniel Lenson. Will you refresh the court as to their gist?
A. Yes. Evlin and Lenson were lax in their duties. They permitted the use of illegal and dangerous substances among the crew. I also think it possible that one or both used such substances.
Q. You were aware of such matters before the collision?
A. I had suspected Evlin for a long time.
Q. Did you so
inform the captain?
A. He knew we had dope aboard.
Q. Did you tell him your suspicions about Evlin?
A. Not in so many words.
Q. Have you in the intervening time been able to recall any concrete evidence of their dereliction of duty?
A. I regret that due to the sinking, the loss of evidence and key witnesses, I am unable to substantiate what I say. However, I stand by it.
You see, I have kind of an instinct about what goes on among the men. I myself enlisted at sixteen, right after Pearl Harbor. Fibbed about my age. I was a white hat for five years. I understand them in a way your direct commissioned officers never will. RYAN’s crew wasn’t a bad bunch, but you can’t let the animals run the zoo. As I said, the night before the collision we turned up a lot of the stuff. A little more time and I’d have traced it to the source.
Cross-examined by counsel for Lieutenant Evlin.
Q. We have been through this before, Commander, but since you’re back, let’s do it again. First, the connection between this and the collision escapes me. Commander Packer was unquestionably in charge during the maneuvers leading to it. Are you intimating he was involved in drug use?
A. Ridiculous. I never suggested anything like that.
Q. Then what’s the connection?
A. As I’ve said, I think those two squirrels screwed up and Jimmy—and Commander Packer was trying to save the ship.
Q. But you were not on the bridge, and all this is empty conjecture. Let us go on. Were you not responsible as executive officer for the safety and well-being of the crew, and for the enforcement of discipline?
A. Of course.
Q. If discipline was poor and drug use rife, was it not your responsibility as much as or more than anyone else’s?
A. I hear what you’re saying. The difference is, I was fighting it, and they were going along.
Q. Commander Bryce, why did you hate Lieutenant Evlin?
A. I didn’t hate him, just what he was doing to the ship.
Neither the counsel for the Court, the Court, nor the parties desired further to question this witness. He resumed his seat.
Ensign Daniel Lenson, a party, was recalled as a witness, advised of his rights, and was reminded that the oath previously taken was still binding. Examined by the counsel for the Court.
* * *
HE eased himself down again, numb and light-headed, into the hard embrace of the chair. From the front row, eyes pinned him: Bryce. Lassard. Norden. Gonzales. Greenwald. He jerked his gaze from them to find Johnstone’s horn-rims hovering between him and the light.
“Mr. Lenson, I have noticed you nodding from time to time—”
“I’m well enough to testify.”
“Then let’s try to clear up several points of testimony that conflict with yours. First, you said, I believe, that you heard a whistle signal from Kennedy before the collision. Is that correct?”
He cleared his throat. “Yes.”
“Captain Javits states he did not give any signal. Do you still say you heard one?”
“Yes; I heard a signal.”
“A long blast, or a short one?”
“I can’t say how long it lasted.”
“Before Kennedy struck Ryan, did you notice additional lights come on?”
“Yes.”
“Were the navigation lights among them?”
He closed his eyes, trying to recapture that glimpse through the alidade cross hairs. It refused to come. Damn his mind; it gave what he didn’t need when he didn’t want it and lost what he had to have. “I couldn’t tell. There were too many to make them out clearly, if they were.”
“Counsel for Commander Packer has argued that it was possible he intended not a left but a right turn to take his final station for plane guard. Do you have any recollection that might substantiate that?”
“No. All the plans I heard ended with a left turn into station.”
“There is also disagreement over whether the last signal sent by Kennedy to Ryan, that is, ‘Mike corpen two-five-zero,’ was heard on Ryan’s bridge.”
An easy one at last. He hitched himself up in the chair. “I didn’t hear it. I may have been on the wing when it came over. It’s possible that the captain or Mr. Evlin heard it.”
“Were Ryan’s radios working properly, to your knowledge?”
“I was told by other watch members that we often had trouble with the radios. On that night, the speaker was barely audible. I don’t know whether that was an equipment problem or whether it was just turned low to keep the noise level down.”
“You have heard the executive officer’s testimony that Lieutenant Evlin was a substandard, undisciplined officer, and possibly involved with drugs. Do you have an opinion on these allegations?”
He forced himself erect again against a wave of dizziness. Through a blur like heat rising from flames, faces danced before him. Some of them were men he knew were dead. He coughed and coughed and they steadied, and he lifted his head a little and said into the gauntlet of eyes, “I’ve heard his remarks. Commander Bryce is lying. Lieutenant Evlin was not involved in drug use. There were drugs on Ryan, but they were the property of Seaman Lassard, as I’ve said. Bryce’s dislike of Evlin was a personal grudge, probably based on envy, and had no foundation in fact.”
He exhaled. Johnstone shifted a little, and he heard the creak of leather from the direction of the court table. Bryce and Lassard were staring him down. He looked away, back at Johnstone.
“Stating that an officer is ‘lying’ in this context, Mr. Lenson, in this room, constitutes placing a charge of perjury into the official record. The executive officer also suggests you permitted drug dealing in your division. Please respond.”
“That’s another lie. Commander Bryce says he wants things out in the open. All right, let’s do that.” He licked his lips. “It was widely known aboard that he took rake-offs and gave favors in exchange for money.”
Johnstone looked off into the distance. “Disrespectful and false accusations under oath are prosecuted under the Uniform Code of Military Justice, Articles 89, 107, and 131, as well as the general article, 134. You may be called to account for such statements at subsequent trial by court-martial. Knowing this, do you desire to let these remarks stand?”
“I’m aware of that and I stand by them.”
“Have you ever used marijuana or other illegal substances?”
“No.”
“You stated that Bryce ‘envied’ Evlin. Why should he envy an officer junior to him?”
“Lieutenant Evlin was a better man than Bryce. A decent, honest one. That was all.”
“Mr. Lenson.”
He twisted in the chair, catching his breath as his arm reminded him it was there. Ausura was tapping a pencil against the edge of the table. All three admirals were studying him. “Sir?”
“Is there anything further you would like to place on the record? Anything that has not been brought out by previous questioning.”
He swallowed and looked away, searching his mind. After what seemed like too long, he said, “What I’ve said is the truth. I have nothing to add to it.”
“Does anyone else wish to examine this witness?”
The rattle of the transcriber stopped, leaving silence hanging in the air like smoke.
“You may resume your seat, Ensign,” said Johnstone, gazing away through the walls. A cough, a rustle of papers, and he was hoisting himself to his feet; he was sliding past Lassard’s flat stare, Bryce’s hard triumphant smile, Rich Norden’s dropped eyes. He was done.
* * *
AND that was it, he thought bitterly, taking his seat again. He could see by their faces that the Court hadn’t believed him. He’d spoken out, tried his best, and failed. Ryan’s executive officer had won all along the line. What would Evlin have said? That it was meant to be this way?
Bullshit. What about all the men in the water, the men whose screams woke him at night? Had it all turned out for the best for t
hem?
He stared at the stern faces of admirals, and was filled with hate.
* * *
WHEN he began listening again, Johnstone was talking in his level monotone to the back of the room. Apparently no one wanted to call any more witnesses. He glanced at his watch.
“Does any party desire to exercise his right under Section 0308h, Manual for Courts-Martial, and make a statement, oral or written?”
He looked around the room. Hauck shook his head. Barrett lowered his eyes.
“Do any of the witnesses desire to make any further statement?”
The audience stirred. A few reached for coats, briefcases, glancing toward the door.
“I do, sir, if I can do that now,” said a deep, slow voice behind Dan.
“Please come forward and state your name,” said Johnstone, and for the first time, he, too, sounded weary.
When the man who had spoken got to the front and turned around, Dan saw that it was Isaacs. “Boatswain’s Mate First Class Lemond Isaacs, USN.”
“Is this a substantive statement, Petty Officer Isaacs?” asked one of the admirals. Dennison, Dan recalled. He sounded annoyed.
“What is that, sir?”
“Is it important? he is asking you,” said Ausura.
“I believe it is, sir.”
“Recall the witness.”
Johnstone went through the procedure, reminding him about the oath he’d taken, as they all had, the first day of testimony. He didn’t sound surprised. He sounded as if he’d been expecting Isaacs to stand up. The black first-class answered with his head lowered, avoiding their eyes.
Ikey looks scared, Dan thought. Makes sense. But why am I suddenly trembling, too?
“You are the same Boatswain’s Mate First Class Lemond Isaacs who testified on the first day of this inquiry.”
“That is right, sir.”
“You indicated then, if I recall correctly, that you had no objection to the narrative submitted by the senior survivor, nor did you have any charges to lay. Do you now wish to modify that statement?”
“Yes, sir.”
“With new evidence, or something you knew then?”
“I knew it then, sir.”
“A little louder, please. Why was it not brought out when you first testified?”