My Troubles With Time (24 page)

Porter was the first to speak. “It’s time to go, Maynard,” he said softly. “Is there any passage from the Bible that you would like me to read. If you would like me to hear your confession, I’m sure the sergeant would be agreeable to waiting for a brief moment,” he said turning to the sergeant.

The latter looked uncomfortable as he stared at his watch. “That won’t be necessary, Chaplain,” I said, “Although it’s most kind of you to offer. At my words, the sergeant looked relieved. I gathered he was under a tight deadline to get me out and to the gallows.

I put on my tie and uniform jacket, thinking that one ought to dress for one’s execution as for any other formal event.

“All right,” I said, “I’m ready to go.”

“Just a minute, Lieutenant,” the sergeant stopped me. “Where’s your shoes.”

“They disappeared,” I answered. If I was ready to go out barefooted, I saw no reason for anyone else to object.

“Let’s not play games, Lieutenant,” he said curtly. “Put on your shoes! If you don’t, we’ll put them on you!”

“If you can find them, Sergeant, “I’ll put them on.”

By now, he had really lost his temper. “If you want to play that way, Lieutenant, I can too. Wilson!” he snapped to one of the marine privates,

“Get down on the floor and look under the bed. He must have hidden them there.”

The private jumped to obey. After peering under the bed, he looked up. “Sergeant, there’s nothing under here.”

“Search the bed, then, damn it! Do I have to tell you everything!”

A thorough search of the bedding failed to uncover the shoes, as did a search of the area behind the toilet.

“I don’t know what you did with them,” the sergeant said, “But if you think you’re going to delay the hanging you’ve another thing coming.”

“Commander,” he said turning to the chaplain, “Do you know if there’s anything in naval regulations saying that someone must be wearing shoes to an execution?”

“It’s a little outside my line,” Porter said, “ But I don’t think so.”

Pleased with the answer, the sergeant gave the orders for us to leave the cell. Our procession started off, the sergeant in the lead. I followed next, still barefoot, with Porter at my side. He had opened his Bible to the twenty-third psalm and was reading it softly. The two marine privates brought up the rear.

At the entrance of the building I stopped for a minute to allow my eyes to adjust to the bright sunlight. Looking down on the quadrangle I could see the gallows. It resembled the ones I had seen in the Western movies of my youth. In front of it stood four individuals. I recognized Commander Parsons, Commander White and Admiral Miyaguchi, the latter resplendent in a formal dress uniform and wearing a ceremonial sword. With them was a marine captain I had not seen before.

As we descended the steps of the building I looked around the quadrangle. Except for the foursome waiting for me, it was deserted, I gathered in deference to my execution. The balconies of the adjacent barracks, however, were crowded with marines waiting to witness the hanging. I recalled reading of similar large, festive audiences attending public hangings in Elizabethan England.

Parsons left the others to greet us, a smile on his face. “Some good news, Lieutenant,” he said with a smile on his face.

My heart jumped. “You mean I’ve been reprieved?”

“No, nothing like that. The good news is that Admiral Miyaguchi asked as a favor to the Japanese government that you be shot by a firing squad rather than hanged as a common criminal. He said that shooting was more appropriate given the nature of your actions.”

“Do you call that good news?” I asked. “Whether I’m shot or hanged, the end result for me is just the same.”

Parsons’ smile vanished, replaced by his habitual sorrowful look.

“Yes, I can see that,” he said. “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t get your hopes up.”

I didn’t trust myself to speak. Instead I mumbled something I thought would do the trick. He looked down and suddenly realized that I was standing barefoot.

“ Lieutenant,” he almost yelled, “Where are your shoes?”

“They’ve vanished,” I said, “In the same way the time machine did. It has something to do with the laws of time travel.”

He looked irate. “You’re not starting that time travel business again, are you? They’re not going to delay your execution no matter what you say.”

I saw there was no point in trying to tell him the truth. Letting my sense of humor surface, I said, “My family belonged to a small Protestant sect. They believed that when you enter Heaven, it should be without shoes. In honor of my parents’ beliefs, I decided to go barefoot.”

Parsons nodded knowingly. He was about to say something when Admiral Miyaguchi approached and asked if he could speak with me privately. My defense counsel stepped back to join the others.

The Japanese Admiral turned to me with a smile. “Lieutenant Snodgrass,” he said bowing. “You have done my country great damage. You have rendered your country a great service. More than they realize. I can only hope that the young officers of my navy in similar circumstances would perform as you have done. You are a most brilliant and courageous officer. He drew out his ceremonial sword, kissed it, and then saluted me with it.

I was uncertain of how to respond. I compromised by stepping back and saluting. “Thank you, sir,” I said.

When he saw that my conversation with Admiral Miyaguchi was over, Commander White approached. “I gather that Commander Parsons has already informed you that you are to be shot by a firing squad, not hanged,” he said. “Since there is no adequate spot for the purpose here, we are going to proceed around the corner of the barracks. We will use the handball backboard there in lieu of a wall.”

At the sergeant’s command, we left the gallows and moved off to the tennis court. Gradually, the marines gathered on the barracks balconies realized that the public hanging they expected to watch would not take place. Boos and catcalls accompanied us as we turned the corner and left the quadrangle.

Porter was still at my side and the two marine privates behind me. Suddenly, I stopped. The meaning of Kupinski’s first law became obvious to me. “Inanimate objects displaced in time,” I said out loud, “Tend to move toward their point of origin at a rate determined by the rate of speed of their original displacement, the distance of the displacement, and their molecular weight.”

“Did you say something?” the chaplain inquired, halting his reading from the Bible.

“No, sir,” I answered, and resumed walking. Now that I understood the reason for the disappearance of my sword in Paris and of my wristwatch and shoes here, what a shame it was that I would not have the opportunity communicating word of my discovery to someone who would appreciate its importance.

I was so deep in my thoughts that I stumbled into the sergeant in front of me before I realized that the others had stopped. I looked up and saw the handball backboard in front of me. About twenty yards in front of it was a squad of marines all carrying rifles. This I gathered, was my firing squad.

Parsons came up to me and shook my hand. “I don’t know quite what to say,” he said. “I suppose ‘God bless you’ would be the most appropriate. I really mean it.”

“Thanks for all your efforts,” I replied, as he stepped back.

The chaplain then approached. “I will be praying for you,” he said. “Is there anything else you would like me to do? Anyone I can notify? Any message you would like to send?”

“No thanks,” I answered.

It was now the turn of the marine captain. “It’s time,” he said. “Would you please follow me to the wall.”

When we reached the handball backboard, he asked me to turn around. He looked uncertain about what to do, then removed a package of cigarettes from his pocket and offered me one. I was tempted to accept, as I had never smoked before and wondered what it would be like.

“Thanks. No.” I said.

He then asked me if I would like a blindfold. Again, I declined his offer. “This is it, then, Lieutenant,” he said. “You have my sympathy.”

He turned and walked back to where the squad of marines was gathered. “Squad, attention!” he ordered. He gave the command to load and aim their weapons.

I tried to think of Kupinski’s laws of time travel and to decipher the meaning of his second, third and fourth laws. To no avail. All I could think of my imminent death.

The commands ‘ready’ and ‘aim’ rang out loud and clear. I could see the weapons of the firing squad aimed directly at my chest. Involuntarily I shut my eyes as the captain gave the order to fire. I heard the sound of the volley. My next sensation was a feeling of unnatural cold, although I experienced no pain. I wondered if this was what death felt like.

Then, I seemed to hear laughing. Laughing? In Heaven? In Hell? I opened my eyes. The members of the firing squad were standing where I had last seen them, but were convulsed with laughter. One was laughing so hard that he dropped his rifle.

I looked down and realized why they were laughing. All my clothing had vanished. I was standing there stark naked. Kupinski’s first law had struck again!

An angry cry rang out. It emanated from Admiral Miyaguchi, who had drawn out his sword and was running toward me, a furious expression on his face. From the way he was waving his sword, I had little doubt he meant to skewer me with it.

Being carved up like a chicken by a furious Japanese Admiral seemed to me even less desirable than being shot by a firing squad. I turned and began running, without any idea of where I was going. Looking back over my shoulder, I could see Miyaguchi was gaining on me, despite his short legs and ample girth.

The pebbles hurt my bare feet, which were soon aching from innumerable cuts. I paid them no heed; my only goal was to escape evisceration. Turning a corner, I found myself running down a road leading to the gate of the naval base. At the gate, a marine sentry was stopping to check the cars entering and leaving..

With Miyaguchi breathing hard on my neck, I approached the gate just as the sentry waved a car through. When he turned and saw me, an amazed look appeared on his face.

“Stop! You have to stop!” he cried as I raced toward him at full speed.

I had no intention of stopping. “Salute me, Private!” I ordered. “I’m an officer engaged in PE!”

The sentry’s indoctrination on the necessity of saluting officers overcame his shock at finding himself faced with a naked man running through the gate. He snapped to attention and saluted as I sped past him without slowing my pace. I was aware of the absurdity of the situation as I returned his salute.

Behind me, I heard him yelling “stop!” It was unclear whether this was directed at me or at my pursuer. I did not take the time to look back until I ran some distance past the gate and reached the road leading to Honolulu.

There I paused for an instant to catch my breath. I was relieved to see no sign of Miyaguchi. At the gate, the sentry was surrounded by a large group of individuals. All were looking in my direction. I was uncertain whether the Japanese Admiral was among them. In any event, it made no difference. Pursuers would be after me, intent on finishing me off before the Japanese ultimatum expired.

This realization led me to resume running down the road as rapidly as I could. Fortunately, there was virtually no traffic, although one car driving in the opposite direction almost went off the road when the driver turned around to stare at me.

Every few seconds I would turn around and look back toward the base to see if there was any pursuit. Even though none had yet appeared, I had no illusions that Commander White would delay long in organizing one. I was considering whether I ought to stop running and conceal myself in the woods bordering the road when I heard an automobile horn behind me.

I turned my head, fearing I would see a military vehicle filled with marines pursuing me. Instead, it was a roadster convertible. The driver was a woman, a blond.

I moved to the shoulder of the road, hoping that the car would pass me. To my surprise, it slowed to keep pace with my speed. “Care for a ride?” the driver asked.

She didn’t wait for me to answer, but stopped the car. “Hop in,” she said.

I could see no reason to refuse the unexpected offer of help. With luck, I thought, she might be driving into Honolulu. I had no idea of how, stark naked, I could hide find a hiding place in a strange city, but it least it was a chance.

“Thank you, Ma’am,” I said automatically, as I sat down on the seat next to her and shut the car door.

“I see the heat was not too much for you,” she said in an odd tone.

I turned to look at her. She was older than I had first thought, about thirty-five. Her hair was obviously bleached. She was wearing a tennis outfit which, if I had seen one of the coeds at the university wearing it, I would have thought provocative. It seemed odd that that it would be available, let alone worn in 1941.

I considered telling her the truth, but decided against it. There was too much chance she would report me to the authorities.

“I’m a naval officer, Ma’am,” I said. “I got into some trouble at the navy base and had to make a hurried departure.”

“Oh, someone’s husband came home unexpectedly and caught you. I can understand that. There’s no need to be so formal,” she went on. “You can call me Honey. What can I call you?”

Maynard, I realized, was an unusual name, one she might recognize from the news reports about me. “You can call me Dick,” I replied, using the name of a next-door neighbor.

“That’s certainly an appropriate name for you,” she said, staring at my midsection. She was licking her lips and there was a leer on her face.

I realized that her buxom figure, combined with her scanty tennis outfit, had caused me to have an erection. Feeling extremely self-conscious, I put my hands in my lap, hoping to conceal it.

Without warning, she turned off the road.

“Where are you going?” I asked. “I thought you were going to Honolulu?”

“No,” she said. “Keep your head down! We’re going on to an army base.”

“Please stop and let me out!” I implored. “I’m not wearing any clothes. They’ll arrest me!”