My Troubles With Time (21 page)

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?”

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 7
^th
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 7
^th
.

“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 8
^th
.”

“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 7
^th
.”

“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 7
^th
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 need 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 7
^th
?”

“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.

Admiral Stafford adjourned the court martial a few minutes after the defense counsel completed his summation. The members went off to reach their verdict and Parsons accompanied me as the marines escorted me back to my cell.

When the marines left, I turned to Parsons. “Realistically,” I asked, “What sort of chance do I have?”

“Not too good a one,” he replied. “I thought your testimony was great. I was watching the faces of the members of the court martial as you spoke and they appeared favorably impressed. Your conviction that Japan was about to attack Pearl Harbor gives them an excuse if they want to show clemency. But Admiral Stafford is under extreme pressure to find you guilty on all counts and sentence you to death. I’m afraid the Japanese government will accept nothing less.”

“Thanks for being honest with me,” I said. “That’s about what I think, too.”

“Well, keep your spirits up. The longer they take to reach a verdict, the better chance you have of avoiding the death penalty. Anything more than thirty minutes is a favorable sign.”

As we waited, I paced the cell to relieve my tension while Parsons light up a cigarette. The commander kept looking at his watch. When half an hour had passed, he looked a little less sad. I was just starting to feel more optimistic when the cell door opened and two marines entered.

“They’ve reached a verdict,” one said.

Silently we went with them to the court room. I didn’t have to wait long. Stafford entered, followed by the other members of the panel. As we stood, I stared at their faces, trying to divine what their verdict was. Their expressions seemed grim.

Admiral Stafford took out a piece of paper and read from it. His voice was unemotional; his words precise.

“The panel finds Lieutenant Maynard Snodgrass guilty of all charges and specifications. He is sentenced to death by hanging not later than noon of Saturday, December 13
^th
.”

T
he verdict was what I expected. Nonetheless, I felt drained of all energy. I would have fallen, if Parsons had not put his arm around my shoulder to support me.

We remained standing as the panel filed out of the courtroom. “Don’t give up hope yet,” Parsons tried to encourage me. “I will file an appeal.”

I didn’t trust myself to speak. Silently, I went with Parsons and my marine escort back to my cell. As the cell door closed behind the departing marines, he asked me if there was anything he could get for me. I could think of nothing. “Well, then,” he said, “I had better get started on that appeal.” We shook hands and he left.

After he had gone, I paced the cell from a bit, but the exercise didn’t relax me at all. Next, I tried to sleep. Again, there was no escape from the melancholy I felt. In an effort to divert my thoughts, I reviewed in my mind all I had ever read about people who had been sentenced to execution. This worked. I smiled, recalling Samuel Johnson’s adage “When a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully.” Now I knew from first hand observation just how correct Johnson was.

I was in a little better frame of mind when my dinner tray was delivered. The fare was of the same poor quality, a single hot dog and baked beans with the customary mug of coffee. I was still full from the delicious cheeseburger Parsons had brought me for lunch, but managed to finish the coffee.

The day, Friday, found me pacing my cell, anxious to learn what Parsons was doing. My common sense told me there was not the slightest chance his appeal would succeed. However, my anxiety for news which inevitably would have to be bad made me realize that the human mind is unable to accept the inevitability of immediate death if there is even a remote possibility of an alternative.