The presiding officer turned to Commander Leeland and spoke for several minutes with the legal adviser. “All right,” he said reluctantly to my defense counsel, “I will permit you to go on with this line of questioning, but watch your step, Commander!”
“Tell me, Commander,” Parsons said, resuming his questioning of Namura, “Where was the Hiryu when she was attacked by the Nevada?”
Namura answered giving geographic coordinates.
“Admiral Stafford,” said Parsons, taking something that had been inside his yellow pad, “May I be permitted to use this as an aid to the panel?”
The presiding officer frowned again. He was clearly becoming sick of what he must have regarded as unnecessary legal sparring. “What is that?” he snapped.
“It’s a National Geographic Society map of the Pacific Ocean,” Parsons said. With a red crayon, he drew a circle on the map.
“This circle, sir,” he said, “Represents the location given by Commander Namura as the point at which the Nevada attacked and sank the three Japanese carriers.”
Stafford took the map from Parsons and examined it carefully. He passed it to the other members of the court martial. Each of the captains looked at it.
When they had finished, Parsons, turned back to Commander Namura. “The latitude and longitude coordinates you have given me, sir,” identifies a point in the Pacific Ocean less than two hundred and fifty miles from the United States navy base at Pearl Harbor. At the same time, it is about four thousand miles from Japan. Is it customary for a fleet consisting of six Japanese aircraft carriers, two battleships and numerous cruisers and destroyers to operate so close to American territory? What were they doing there?”
Fletcher again rose, objecting to the questioning. Stafford curtly told him to sit. “The panel would like to hear the answer to that question,” he said quietly.
“Well, Commander,” Parsons said, “We would like the answer to that question.”
Namura looked bewildered. Finally, he managed to speak. “I don’t know, Sir.”
“Ah, yes, Commander, Parsons said sarcastically, you were the navigation officer of the Hiryu but you don’t know.” He turned back to Admiral Stafford. “The defense has no further questions for this witness,” he said, sitting down.
I looked at Stafford and the other members of the panel. It was obvious from their expressions that Parsons had scored a touchdown in his legal struggle with Fletcher. The latter, moved quickly in an attempt to retrieve the situation.
“As the last witness for the prosecution,” he said, “I call Commander Arthur White.”
I had not the slightest idea who White might be. Turning around, my curiosity was quickly satisfied. The man in civilian clothing who had interrogated me on the night of my imprisonment, strode to the front of the courtroom and took the witness chair. Upon completion of his swearing in, Fletcher began his questions.
“Commander,” he said, Please identify yourself for the record.
“Commander Arthur White, Navy Security Service, attached to the Headquarters of the Pacific Fleet.”
“Are you acquainted with Lieutanant Maynard Snodgrass?” Fletcher asked.
“Yes, I am. I first met Lieutenant Snodgrass on the evening of December 8th,” White replied, “When I was ordered to take charge of his interrogation”
“Is he currently in this court room?”
“Yes, he is,” White said. “He is the lieutenant seated in the chair next to the defense counsel.” White stood and pointed me out.
“When you interrogated Lieutenant Snodgrass, did he give you a confession?”
“Yes, he did?”
“Is this it?” Fletcher asked, showing him the confession I had signed.
White read it. “Yes, it is.”
The prosecuting officer had the confession entered as evidence. When this was completed, Fletcher handed it back to White. “Would you please read this to the court, Commander.”
White proceeded to do so. I flinched as I heard it read. How could I have been so stupid as to write and sign that confession, I wondered? Something had to be done to weaken its impact on the court. I shook Parsons’ arm to attract his attention.
“Ask him what else I told him on the evening I signed the confession!” I whispered. “I told him I was a physics professor, not a naval officer. If he’s in the Naval Security Service, he must know I’m not in the navy. If I’m not in the navy, how can I be guilty of mutiny? He’s lying!”
Parsons scribbled an answer to me on his yellow pad. His note read, “No!! I’ll explain later.”
As I read it, I heard a series of loud raps coming from the direction of the court martial panel. Looking up, I saw Admiral Stafford banging a gavel, an angry expression on his face.
“I’ll have order in this court room!” he thundered. Everyone stared at him. “Lieutenant Snodgrass and his defense counsel appear to be having an argument,” he continued sarcastically. “Would you like a brief recess, Commander, to confer with the defendant?”
Parsons jumped to his feet. “I beg the court’s pardon,” he said most contritely. “It was just a minor misunderstanding. There is no need for a recess.”
“All right,” said Stafford, still looking annoyed. “Don’t let it happen again!” “You may continue with the witness,” he added, turning to Fletcher.
Commander White completed his reading of my confession. “Your witness,” he said, to Parsons.
My defense counsel rose slowly to his feet. “No questions,” he said in a low voice and sat down.
It was again Fletcher’s turn. Standing, he directed a smile at the members of the court martial panel. His expression reminded me of a print I had once seen depicting the Cheshire Cat in ‘Alice In Wonderland.’
“The prosecution has no further witnesses,” he said, confidence in the way the trial had gone evident in his voice.
Stafford looked at his watch and a pleasant expression appeared on to his face. “We’ve made good progress this morning,” he declared, “It’s almost time for lunch. Why don’t we adjourn until 1 p.m.”
The people in the room rose as the members of the panel stood and filed from the courtroom, Admiral Stafford in the lead. I was about to protest to Parsons over his failure to question Commander White when two marines approached.
“I’m sorry sir,” one of them said to me. “We have to escort you back to your cell until the court martial reconvenes.”
“Just a minute,” Parsons intervened. He turned to me. “I don’t imagine, Lieutenant, that the food they give you is particularly good.”
“That would be an understatement, sir.”
“Why don’t I stop off at the officers’ club and pick up something for us to eat. I’ll bring it back to your cell and we can eat it there. I have to discuss our strategy for this afternoon, and that would give us more time to do it.”
“I’d appreciate that very much,” I said. Parsons went off and I returned to my cell, escorted by the marines.
I was pacing the cell to get some exercise when the door opened and Parsons entered, carrying a paper bag. Emanating From the bag was a most delicious aroma. With the aplomb of Houdini extracting a rabbit from his hat, Parsons removed to bundles wrapped in napkins.
“Here you are, Lieutenant,” he said, handing me one. It turned out to be a still warm cheeseburger.
“They make good cheeseburgers at the club.”
He removed two more articles from the bag, bottles of beer. The one he gave me was still cold.
The cheeseburger and beer constituted the best meal I had had since setting out in the time machine and I quickly wolfed it down.
“I can’t tell you how grateful I am for this, Commander,” I said, meaning every word. “Many thanks.”
He smiled sympathetically. “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I just wish I could do more to help you.”
“Sir,” I said. “Could you explain why you didn’t challenge White about my being a naval officer?”
&nbs
p; He shook his head. “For two reasons, Lieutenant. In the first place, all the paperwork concerning this court martial lists your rank and serial number. I have to think that although you seem perfectly rational to me, you have some delusion that you are a physics professor who has traveled here in a time machine. You must admit that your story sounds irrational and that you were not able to find the time machine when we looked for it.”
“Secondly,” he continued. “Supposing that your story is completely true and the navy for some reason is lying about you, it would do no good to challenge them. To avert a war with Japan, the court martial will find you guilty. Even if I were to convince the panel that you are a civilian and not guilty of mutiny, in your confession you admitted attacking the Japanese vessels. Thousands of Japanese sailors were killed. Your action constitutes piracy and murder. They will hang you just as high without the mutiny charge as with it.”
“There’s one final thing,” he said sheepishly. “To get permission to search for the time machine, I had to promise Admiral Stafford that in our defense we would stick to the lines of your confession. I thought you had agreed to do that. It will mean my career in the navy if Stafford thinks we reneged on the agreement. But hell, Lieutenant, if you want to repudiate what you said in the confession, I’ll go along with you.”
I looked at the commander, touched by his offer. He obviously deserved far more respect than I had shown him previously. A regular officer, an Annapolis graduate, he was nonetheless ready to sacrifice his career to aid me.
“Thanks, Commander,” I said. “There’s no need for me to raise the subject of my civilian status or of the time machine.”
Parsons relaxed. It was clear to me how much the offer he had made would have cost him.
“I’d like to put you on the stand,” he said, “To document how sure you were that the Japanese planned to attack Pearl Harbor on December 7th and that your attack on the Japanese fleet was based on the conviction the attack had taken place. Can you do that without mentioning the time machine?”
“Yes, sir.”
Parsons made some notes on his yellow pad as I watched. He had just finished when the cell door opened and two marines appeared, a different pair from those who had constituted my escort for the morning session.
“The court martial is about to reconvene,” one said. “We’re here to escort you.”
Accompanied by the marines we entered the courtroom and took our seats. As we waited for the panel to enter, I looked around the room. I found the Japanese Admiral staring at me. When he realized I had caught him, he stood and bowed slightly. His greeting left me wondering if I should return the courtesy. I was about to do so, when we all had to rise as the other members of the court martial panel entered the room and took their seats.
Admiral Stafford made a few comments of an administrative nature and directed Parsons to begin the case for the defense. The commander stood and called Petty Officer James Hurley to the stand. The name was new to me and I wondered what Parsons was up to it.
My curiosity was quickly satisfied. In response to the defense counsel’s question, Hurley stated that he had been the senior rating in the Nevada’s communications department when I took the battleship to sea on December 7th.
“Could you tell the court,” Parsons began, “What communications the Nevada received or sent from the time it got under way in Pearl Harbor under Lieutenant Snodgrass’s command until it docked there again on December 8th.”
“None, sir,” Hurley answered, “The radio was inoperable.”
“Did you advise Lieutenant Snodgrass of this fact?”
“Yes, sir, I did so as we were getting under way on December 7th.”
“And what was his response?”
“He ordered me, sir, to do everything I could to repair the radio.”
“Thank you,” Parsons said. “Your witness, Commander.”
The prosecution declined the opportunity to cross-examine Hurley and he left the stand.
“It’s all yours,” Parsons said to me in a low voice. “The defense now calls Lieutenant Maynard Snodgrass to the stand.”
“Does Lieutenant Snodgrass understand that he is under no compulsion to testify?” Admiral Stafford asked.
I wondered whether the Admiral was concerned to protect my rights or merely hoped to avoid spending the time that would be taken up by my testimony.
“Yes, sir, he does,” Parsons stated. “He has expressly asked for the opportunity to personally explain his actions to the members of this panel.”
I could see everyone in the room staring at me as I took the witness chair and the oath was administered.
“Lieutenant Snodgrass,” Parsons began, “You heard Commander White read a copy of a statement concerning the voyage of the Nevada which he said you voluntarily wrote and signed.” Parsons asked for the exhibit in question and showed it to me. “Is this the statement you drafted and signed?”
“Yes, sir,” I said.
“Is the statement an accurate account of your actions on the Nevada?” he continued, choosing his words carefully,
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, Lieutenant, could you please tell the court why you pushed a superior officer off the deck of the Nevada into the sea, took command of a United States battleship, put to sea without orders, and then without orders attacked the warships of a nation with which the United States was not at war. You would agree, I trust, that these actions are not normal for a naval officer.”
“Gladly, sir. My actions were certainly not normal. However, they were essential and appropriate under the circumstances. I knew that a Japanese carrier task force was about to launch a sneak attack against Pearl Harbor, during which the capital ships of the American Far East fleet would be destroyed. I also knew that no one would believe me if I tried to alert the fleet command of this fact.”
From the corner of my eyes, I could see the members of the panel staring at me, fascinated by my account. However, I was under no illusions that they believed me.
“I took command of the Nevada for the sole purpose of taking it out of Pearl Harbor before the Japanese attack so that the American navy would have at least one battleship afloat after the December 7th attack. I pushed Commander Travis overboard, not because I wished him any harm, but only so that I would be the senior officer on board and thus be able to order it to sea. In order to insure that Commander Travis would be able to stay afloat until rescued, I threw him a life preserver.”
“Why didn’t you wait until you saw the Japanese planes actually attacking Pearl Harbor before you took control of the Nevada?” Parsons asked.
“I thought of doing that, but was afraid that if I waited I would not have sufficient time to get steam up in the Nevada before the Japanese aircraft attacked and sank the ship. I assumed that once under way, the radio broadcasts received by the Nevada would confirm the fact of the Japanese attack.”
“Yet, without orders from fleet headquarters or confirmation from radio broadcasts that the Japanese attack had taken place, you ordered the attack on the Japanese fleet which resulted in the sinking of three Japanese aircraft carriers. Why did you do this?”
“Because, sir, I knew the Japanese would attack.”
My next words were cut off by the presiding officer’s violent banging of his gavel. He looked as angry as I have ever seen anyone look. “That’s enough, Snodgrass!,” he said in a cold, hard voice, his fury obvious. “Come here, Parsons!”
The commander jumped to his feet at Stafford’s command and almost ran to the table to speak to him. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but it was obvious that the Admiral was wiping up the floor with my defense counsel.
Parsons turned and returned to me, crestfallen. “Stafford thinks you are about to go into the bit about the time machine,” he whispered. You’re not, are you?”
“Of course not, Commander. I gave you my word.”
He turned back to Stafford. “Sir,” he said, “Lieutenant Snodgrass is aware of the ne
ed for speed. He is not about to introduce any extraneous material into his testimony.”
The Admiral looked dubious. “He is aware of the consequences if he does so?”
“Perfectly, sir.”
“All right then, he may continue.”
Parsons in a strained voice said, “Lieutenant, how did you know Japan planned to attack Pearl Harbor on December 7th?”
“It’s obvious from my knowledge of history, sir. Japan launched the Russo-Japanese War in 1904 with a surprise attack on the naval base of Port Arthur, which destroyed the Russian Far Eastern fleet. With the negotiations in Washington between the State Department and the Japanese negotiators on the point of collapse, I was certain Japan would launch a surprise attack on the American fleet at Pearl Harbor.
When I located a large Japanese carrier task force about two hundred miles from Pearl Harbor, I knew that they were there for only one reason. That was to repeat their tactics from the Russo-Japanese War by attacking Pearl Harbor.”
As I finished I looked at Admiral Stafford. The expression on his face had changed. The look he gave me was almost benign. Parsons looked relieved that I had not incurred the admiral’s wrath.
“Thank you, Lieutenant,” he said. “Your witness, Commander.”
Fletcher declined the opportunity to cross-examine me. “It’s still early,” Stafford said. “Let’s get on with the summaries.
Both Fletcher and then Parsons proceeded to give relatively brief closing statements. Fletcher confined himself largely to reading excerpts from my confession, observing that I had in it admitted my guilt to the charges of which I was accused.
My defense counsel stressed that my actions, as inappropriate as they might have been, were motivated by a sense of deep patriotism and were based on an unfortunate delusion that Japan had already attacked the United States. Under these circumstances, he pleaded, I should be treated with compassion.
In truth, I thought that in their summations, neither Fletcher nor Parsons had displayed the brilliance reflected in their earlier presentations. Possibly they were fatigued. More likely, I concluded, they had been unconsciously intimidated by Stafford into employing less controversial arguments.
My Troubles With Time Page 16