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 them?
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?”
“I was ordered not to give it.”
“Ordered not to? By whom?”
“Commander Bryce, sir.”
Bryce stood up. Ausura glanced up, studying him over his reading glasses. “Please sit down, Commander. Isaacs, is it? If you have material knowledge that ought to be brought to the attention of this Court, those orders have no legal effect.”
“I can’t get charged for it? Is that right, Admirals?”
The men in blue and gold nodded, murmured agreement. They pushed back their chairs and looked carefully at Isaacs.
“All right, then. The XO thought I was drunk during the underway replenishment. I take a drink, but I wasn’t drunk then. So he lock me up in the supply storeroom. That’s where I was when all this happening. And when it did, they all forgot about me down there. The XO and all them others, the master-at-arms and them. Except Mr. Lenson. He come down after me and bust me out.
“I didn’t stop to thank him then. Mr. Lenson, you back there, I see you. I do not like to hear the things the exec been saying about you. After thinking about it some, I decided I got to tell what really happened in the whaleboat.”
“Go on,” said Ausura. “Take your time. We’re very interested in what you have to say, Petty Officer.”
“Thank you, sir.” The boatswain cleared his throat, glanced up for a moment at Bryce, then dropped his eyes again. His voice gained a little volume.
“After the ensign let me out the brig, I went topside. I looked for my life raft. It wasn’t there. So I went on aft, thinking to find one I could join up on the muster for.
“When I got to the boat deck, I seen the crew putting the boat in the water. Only they couldn’t get the engine started. Weatherspoon, the engineman in charge, he wasn’t anywhere around.
“Well, I knew I could get it started. They said if I could, I could come with them. So we got her in the water.”
“Who was in the whaleboat at this time?” Johnstone asked him.
“Lassard, Greenwald, Gonzales, Mr. Norden, Commander Bryce, and me.”
“Go on.”
The boatswain drew a square with big, scarred hands. “There was a little shiny box under the thwart. It belong to Mr. Bryce. He keep shoving it back under there with his foot.”
“I object. This man is an alcoholic and a liar.”
“Please resume your seat, Commander. We will call you presently. Go on with your testimony, Isaacs.”
“I was keeping the engine going, it was not easy because it had got some kind of solids in the intake. But I did. So soon as we hit the water, Greenwald, he ask, ‘Where to, Commander? You want to pick up some of these guys?’
“Mr. Bryce, he say, ‘They got plenty of rafts and things. So, let’s head on over there, toward one of the other ships.’”
Dan hauled himself upright in the chair. Around him he heard the soft rush of people breathing in. “Then what happened?” asked Dennison gently.
“Greenwald, he kind of argued back over this, but Mr. Bryce, he shouted at him, ordered them to do what he say. The others didn’t seem to care much one way or n’other.”
Johnstone looked away, through the walls. “What was Mr. Norden’s contribution to this discussion?”
“He didn’t say nothing—didn’t say a mumbling word. He just sit there in the bow holding his head. He looked sick, but he never said nothing.”
Everyone waited.
“We head away from the ship. After about fifteen minutes, the engine craps out and won’t start again. We drift around some after that while I disassembles the intake. Finally, might be a hour or so, I get her started again. Then we heads for one of the ships.”
Isaacs glanced briefly up at Johnstone. “Guess that’s about all. Sir.”
“Have you anything now to lay to the charge of any officer or man with regard to the loss of USS Ryan, or their conduct after the collision?”
Isaacs inclined his head with great dignity. “Yes sir, I believe I do. I believe Mr. Bryce, he did not act proper in not picking up them men in the water.”
“To clarify the sequence of events: The boat’s engine was running at the time Commander Bryce gave the order to head away from the ship. It only stopped running some time later, when you were already distant from Ryan?”
Isaacs nodded soberly. Morehead opened his eyes and said, “What happened to the box?”
“XO had it under his arm when he went aboard TALBOT. I never seen it after that.”
“Do you have anything to add?”
“I think that is about it, Admiral, sir.”
As soon as Isaacs unfolded from the witness chair Bryce stood again. “I request the stand to answer this witness.”
“Please resume your seat, Petty Officer Isaacs. Mr. Bryce, come forward.”
* * *
“COMMANDER, you have heard the testimony just given by Boatswain’s Mate First Class Isaacs. It is evident that it casts doubt on your conduct after the collision and perhaps before it, as well. Do you have any—”
Bryce crossed his legs and said, coolly and a little sadly, “It is a lie and a fabrication; that’s all; and I will be happy to prove it.”
“Please elaborate.”
“This Isaacs, like Evlin, was in restriction—actually he was confined in the brig—because of incapacity and drunkenness on duty, infractions that had resulted in the death of the boatswain’s mate chief the night before.
“Now, it gives me no pleasure to say this, but occasionally you see a case in the service where someone is promoted beyond their competence, so to speak. That—what do you call it? Peter’s Law thing. This is as tragic for the man concerned as it is for anyone else. Isaacs here is one of these unfortunate cases. He was incompetent and, like I have said, an alcoholic. These are just malicious, wild accusations, or delusions; anyway, there’s nothing to them. To prove this, I suggest you call any of the men in Ryan’s whaleboat with me. They’ll all back me up, to the T.
“So, this nonsense about a box. There is a box, was a box, but it contained only personal papers, a will, photographs, personal letters, and so forth, which I didn’t wish to lose.”
“You gave no order to leave the scene of the sinking, without picking up other survivors?”
“No. Never. The motor died immediately after we lowered and we were carried away by the wind.
“Now, do us all a favor. Since accusations against me are on the record now. Call the other men in the gig. Any or all of them.”
“With the court’s permission,” said Johnstone distantly, “I will do that. Please step down, Commander.
“I recall Lieutenant Richard N. Norden to the stand.”
* * *
NORDEN looked like a wan, sick child propped in the chair. His hands lay limp on his lap. For an infinitely brief moment, Dan felt pity for him.
“Mr. Norden, please give us your opinion of Boatswain’s Mate First Class Isaacs.”
Dan didn’t catch the muttered reply. Apparently Johnstone didn’t either. The admirals leaned forward, Dennison cupping his ear.
“Please speak up.”
“I said, he was not a very effective petty officer.”
“Is he an alcoholic and liar, as Commander Bryce has stated?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll read back your testimony given on the first day of this inquiry: ‘Apparently I went aft, got into the whaleboat, and abandoned ship.’ Was the whaleboat your assigned ‘abandon ship’ station?”
“It was not. I repeat, as I said, my recollection of this is not of the best, because I had a head injury—”
He stopped speaking. “Please go on,” said Johnstone after a few seconds.
Dan rubbed his hand on his trousers. It left a damp smear. On the stand, Norden sat motionless, wilted, his chin in his left hand. He seemed to be looking at the flag. But when Dan followed his gaze, he saw a short, white-haired man in a dark gray suit. The old man, looking back, was ancient and grim as death itself. As Dan watched he nodded slightly, almost to himself.
Vice Admiral Ausura said, “Please respond to the question, Lieutenant Norden.”
“I did not have a head injury,” Norden muttered.
“Please elaborate.”
“I said, I didn’t have a head injury. I was struck in the head, but it didn’t affect my memory. As I—as I said it did.”
“You have been warned that any testimony you may give may be used against you in the event of a trial by court-martial.”
“I understand that. I still wish to retract my previous testimony. I have—I’ve thought better of it.”
Bryce lumbered to his feet, lifting his hand like a child wanting to be called on in class. “I wish to have a word with the witness in private. Or else he needs to be assigned counsel. He’s injured and not responsible; he’s not acting in his best interests.”
Johnstone was already speaking when Ausura broke in and overrode him. “Your request is not granted. Please resume your seat, and make no further interruptions of testimony before this Court. Please proceed, Lieutenant.”
Norden said, “Ikey’s, I mean, Isaacs’s testimony is correct. We manned the boat with the crew, Bryce, Isaacs, and myself. Seaman Vogelpohl was originally with us, too. He attempted to let others aboard and was clubbed down. We then lowered away without permitting any other people to board. I saw two other men struck with boat hooks and oars when they attempted to climb aboard during lowering. They fell into the water.
“We had a capacity of at least twenty-three in the whaleboat. We did not pick up any of the many … the many injured and dying men who surrounded us. Instead we proceeded through them away from the Ryan. They called to us. They screamed. Some of them cursed us. Shortly thereafter, the oil on that side of the ship ignited—”
“This witness is lying, too—”
Ausura said grimly, “Sit down, Commander. You will be given a chance to explain yourself thoroughly at a later date.” He glared at Bryce till he sat, then returned his gaze to the shrunken figure in the witness chair.
“Please go on.”
“I asked him once to go back. He replied that I’d left my post to save myself. If I didn’t want to be in the boat with them, I could get out of it.
“I did not make any further objections.”
Dennison said gently, “Lieutenant Norden, you stated that ‘two other men were struck.’ Were you struck?”
“I was struck in the head with an oar by Seaman Lassard before Commander Bryce ordered him to let me aboard.”
Morehead raised a pencil. “Why did he and the others change their minds, and permit you in the boat after all, when they did not permit others to board it?”
“I believe he felt it would look better if he was not the only officer in the boat.”
“Did you observe the box Isaacs referred to?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know what was in it?”
“I assume it was Bryce’s cash box.”
“His cash box?”
“The executive officer had a rake-off going of the poker games and such on board. He also made short-term loans to enlisted men. I assume that this was what was in the box that he took with him from Ryan as she sank.”
“Did you hear the statement Boatswain’s Mate First Class Isaacs alleges hearing, ordering the boat away from the men in the water?”
“His words as I remember them were: ‘Make for that ship over there, Slick, don’t hang around here; she could go down sudden and pull us down, too.’”
“Who was ‘Slick’?”
“Seaman Recruit Lassard.”
Johnstone was about to speak when Ausura cleared his throat. The vice admiral said, “Mr. Norden, please advise the court why you did not bring this matter forward in your earlier testimony.”
Dan watched Norden’s fingers twist, like mooring lines under terrific strain, then lie flat again. “I was—I had been advised by Commander Bryce that if I did, my career would be over. I’d already made my decision that night on deck. My only chance was to back up their stories. If I did, they would back up mine, and all would be well.”
Again Norden raised his head, and again his eyes locked with those of the old man in the back of the room. He said, “Because of—matters concerning my family’s service reputation—I at first thought it best to agree. However, I have—I have come to feel over the period of the trial—”
“Please speak up, Lieutenant.”
Rich Norden said in a firm, loud voice, “I have come to feel over the course of the trial that my career was not worth the price I would have to pay for it.”
The civilian counsel, Barrett, stood. At Ausura’s nod, he said, “Do you now desire to withdraw your previous remarks relative to Lieutenant Evlin?”
“Yes, I withdraw them. Al was perfectly competent. Bryce hated him because Evlin opposed his abuse of his position. I supported those remarks of his for the reason I already gave: that we were all in the—in the same boat.” His grim chuckle echoed in the listening silence.
“Lieutenant Hauck, do you desire to cross-examine?” Ausura asked heavily.
Packer’s counsel rose. “Do you now have any additional testimony to volunteer relative to the collision itself?”
“I don’t think so, sir, but I’ll answer any questions you may have pertaining—pertaining to anything.”
“Was Seaman Recruit Lassard, in your opinion, under the influence of drugs at the time he was with you in the whaleboat?”
“He had marijuana with him, and he and Greenwald and Gonzales smoked it during the time that we drifted. They offered it to others, but none of us partook.”
* * *
WHEN Hauck was done, the Court talked together in a low tone, then announced a break. Dan stood quickly, but not quickly enough to reach Norden. He and the man in gray were standing together. The old man was holding him, not close, just holding him and looking over his shaking shoulders with the expression of an ancient Roman condemning his own son to death.
He limped out into the corridor, guarding his arm, and stood in line for the bubbler. He was still too confused to feel much. He expected a buzz of speculation, but the witnesses and counsels stood about smoking silently. Bryce came out, lighting a Camel before he was out of the courtroom. The others glanced at him, glanced away. His eyes passed over Dan’s, over those of the others. He bent a bland, mysterious smile toward the flame of his Zippo.
COUNSEL FOR THE COURT: Sir, it was my assignment as counsel for the Court to elicit evidence on every circumstance having to do with the RYAN incident. I feel that I have fully and impartially performed that duty. The Court is now in possession of all the facts that can be ascertained surrounding the collision and subsequent events of interest.
COURT: The Court is now ready to proceed with the closing arguments.
Captain Roland Javits, a party, made the following closing oral argument.
* * *
“IN beginning my remarks, I want first to reemphasize the status of USS Kennedy during the maneuver in question.
“It is common knowledge in the fleet that the carrier, a much larger ship than the rest, is restricted in her maneuverability and is therefore to be regarded with caution and to some degree even suspicion. This is heightened by her frequent turns to seek the wind for launching and recovering aircraft.
“In addition, doctrine and maneuvering instructions explicitly direct that while engaged in flight operations, as Kennedy was, all ships are to stay clear and not embarrass her in any way. It is not too much to say that when so engaged, a carrier can do no wrong.
“None of my testimony on this point has been challenged by any of the counsels.
“I now refer to Exhibit E, the track of the two ships before collision. Subsequent testimony has not challenged its validity and it must be regarded as a true record of the courses followed.
“It is in evidence that shortly before my turn to flight course, Ryan’s OOD prepared a conservative solution to take her safely to station. However, her CO preferred a high-speed turn, a high-speed transit across my bow, and a second high-speed, split-second turn into station. Even if it was ‘good practice,’ any error in execution would result in his ending up out of position, if not in mortal danger.
“Perhaps what we are seeing here is an example of a man being seduced by his own seamanship into a gamble that failed.
“The signals leading up to the maneuver were standard, easily understood, straight from the book. Also, there is no question but that they were received and understood.
“It has been brought out in testimony that the night, though overcast, was clear. Visibility was good. Though my lights were dimmed, Ryan’s JOD has testified they could be clearly seen. The course and station change could have been executed without haste, misunderstanding, or risk.
“The fact that my OOD had to be reminded to assign Ryan her plane guard station is minor. The fact that they called back to ask about it shows that they had anticipated that order and were prepared for it.
“Regarding my adjustment of course to two-five-zero, there seems to be some question that Ryan even heard it. Whether or not they did, I have shown it would have made little difference, as it was a matter only of a few degrees.
“On remarking the dangerous proximity of the destroyer, I immediately backed emergency and ordered ‘light ship.’ I did not sound whistle signals because they would have been confusing. To reconcile the ensign’s testimony with that, it is possible that my boatswain gave a squeak on the horn in excitement, but if so it was not long enough to register with anyone on the bridge. It is also possible that one of the flight-deck crew, driving a plane-handling vehicle, saw Ryan ahead and sounded his horn as a warning to the bridge.
“In any event these are side issues. The single initiating and immediate cause of the accident was Commander Packer’s fatal left-rudder order. This is true regardless of any extenuating circumstances. The collision was not caused by any action or lack of action by Kennedy, and there was no action anyone on her bridge could have taken to avert it.
“It has been theorized by Captain Piasecki that some momentary confusion in Packer’s mind as to his relative position caused him to conclude that his only hope lay in a turn to the left. However, on cross-examination, he agreed that first, there were other actions Commander Packer could have taken to clear up the confusion, and second, that confused or not, he was still accountable. Confusion is not a forgivable attribute of men commanding U.S. Navy ships.
“However, in view of the sea experience of Commander Packer, and the uniformly excellent opinion of him brought out in this inquiry, it seems to me there is a more logical explanation then ‘confusion’ for such a horrendous mistake.
“It has been clearly brought out that prior to going to his sea cabin, Packer described his intention to pass me close aboard and then turn left sharply to reach station.
“I believe that the argument in regard to his maneuver firmly fixed in his mind that fact of a final left turn. It fixed it there subconsciously rather than consciously.
“Once he had begun the maneuver, and realized he was standing into danger, his conscious mind was so occupied with that danger that at the critical moment he subconsciously reverted to his original plan, and said ‘left rudder’ when at a cooler moment he would have said ‘right’—which was the proper order.
“After he came to zero-nine-zero, almost the reciprocal of my course, the closing speed of the ships was over sixty miles an hour. Warnings from his OOD and JOD led to a rapid realization that he was dead ahead of me at a short and rapidly closing range. If he had ordered right rudder then, he would have ended up roughly where he wanted to be—on my port quarter.
“Unfortunately, though he sensed the proper moment to turn, it must have been at that point that his intense concentration, blunted as it may have been, reverted to the original plan fixed in his mind by the argument. Instead of ‘right rudder,’ what came out of his mouth was ‘left rudder.’
“The subconscious plays that trick on all of us occasionally. In this very hearing, experienced witnesses have said Kennedy when they meant Ryan or two-three-zero when they meant three-two-zero. The slip is easily corrected here.
“It was not so on Ryan. Even if after a second or two he realized his error, the die was cast. If he tried to shift his rudder back, he would meet me head-on. He had to bend on every bit of speed he had to get across my bow before I hit him.
“It may be that it is difficult to tell which way a carrier is heading. If that’s so, it seems to me to be an additional reason to be cautious. However, it’s hard to believe that any commanding officer could start out crossing a carrier’s bow and not pay the most intense attention to it.
“No, Packer knew where he was. He might not have been able to tell the exact angle, but he knew he was in mortal danger and had to act instantly. I believe he simply said the wrong thing. He realized it only when he noticed his bow swinging toward me instead of away. He made the instant decision not to reverse his rudder and plow into me bow-on, but acted decisively in an attempt to tighten his turn and get by fast. The evidence? The moment he saw his bow swing in the wrong direction, he gave the proper orders in rapid succession—‘left full, hard left, all ahead emergency flank.’ He did all he could to retrieve the slip of the tongue. I profoundly wish he had made it, and for a second there that night, I thought he had. But it was not enough.”
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REAR Admiral Leonard A. Hoelscher, USN, then made the following oral argument.
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“ADMIRAL Ausura, Admiral Dennison, Admiral Morehead; counsels and parties; witnesses. The collision of Kennedy and Ryan while under my tactical command has been exhaustively examined. The points in contention are many, including some internal to Ryan, but as Captain Javits has just pointed out, the most important fact is not at issue: that her commander made an error that sank his ship and killed one hundred and seventy-eight of his crew and officers, including himself. The facts surrounding this are about as clear as they can be.
“I am a party to these investigations due to my position as CTG 21.1. Now, let us note that no allegations have been made by any person questioning my handling of the formation. The maneuvers ordered under my authority were clear, standard, and in accordance with regulations. Finally, there have been no criticisms of events subsequent to the collision: my action to extinguish the fire aboard Ryan, for reasons discussed in closed session, the hardest decision I have ever had to make; the entire process of search and rescue, which succeeded in saving over sixty men.
“Let us go on to the only issue of possible culpability that has been raised against me, first by Ensign Lenson, later by counsels for the deceased officers. That is the issue of my stationkeeping instruction.
“Prima facie, its import is rather innocuous. It’s the kind of combination pat on the back and kick in the pants I imagine has been used since the first man commanded another. From time to time, even with subordinates who know their stuff, it’s necessary to rake them over the coals a bit. In fact, that’s one of the prime things a skipper, a commodore, or even the Chief of Naval Operations is there for.
“In the last few days, though, we’ve heard the entire blame for the collision traced, as though by magic, to that message. That it caused Commander Packer to throw his good sense and training overboard and stake his ship in a reckless gamble to save a few seconds.
“Now, I’m not worried that the civilian counsel, Mr. Barrett, and the counsel for Commander Packer, Lieutenant Hauck, are going to succeed in convincing men with years at sea that because of a message like that one man should be relieved of responsibility for an accident while his senior bears the blame. If that was so, if error or excess in a subordinate was to condemn the senior, no officer could escape the wrath of the law.
“I, too, like Captain Javits, believe that there may be some single clear explanation for Packer’s mistake. But we may wander in the murk of supposition as long as we will, and never know for sure. Like him, I wish fervently that it hadn’t happened, or that Ryan’s captain had been able to ramrod her past Kennedy’s bow.
“The question remains, how do we prevent this from happening again? At this moment in the Atlantic, the Pacific, the Indian Ocean, destroyers are maneuvering as the Navy guards the distant stations of the world. There have been suggestions made here as to how to prevent a duplication of this disaster. I will dedicate from now on in my career a portion of my time and influence toward getting them adopted. If we can learn from what I’ve already heard called ‘the Ryan Incident,’ her men will not have died in vain.”
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THE Court then, at 1215, took a recess until 1400, at which time it reconvened.
Counsel representing Commander Packer, a party, then made the following oral argument.
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“THE narrative of the collision that follows, and its attribution of the responsibility of that collision, hinges on three facts. One: The signal that the Kennedy was on course two-five-zero true was erroneous and misleading. Two: That it was received aboard Ryan in time for action by her commanding officer. Three: That it, and other errors and omissions by the captain of the Kennedy, exacerbated by mistakes in judgment by Rear Admiral Hoelscher, in charge of the task force, constitute the true causes of the collision, and not errors or omissions by the commanding officer of USS Reynolds Ryan.
“First, let’s look at the fatal ‘mike corpen’ signal, transmitted, as Kennedy’s signal book shows, approximately one minute and forty seconds before her bow split Ryan in two.
“The fact that it was entered in the signal book shows that aside from Captain Javits, who directed it, and Lieutenant Commander Garner, who transmitted it, others in Kennedy’s CIC heard it go out. I have made message inquiries of the other ships in formation and have received replies from Talbot and Dewey corroborating this.
“It has also been established in cross-examination by Mr. Barrett that confusion existed in Captain Javits’s mind as to the proper meaning of the signal ‘mike corpen,’ and that this confusion persisted right up till he was confronted with the signal book on the stand.
“Conclusion: that an erroneous and misleading signal was sent less than two minutes before the collision.
“Second, we ask, was the signal received by Ryan? For if it was not, we face a different set of deductions, though also tending to show that the responsibility for the collision was not Commander Packer’s.
“Captain Javits has told us he tested his comms at midnight, and that all ships answered the check, though Ryan came back weak. Apparently no one bothered to tell her this, so no action could be taken to correct it. However, it is proof that two hours before collision, the circuit was functioning.
“In addition, only minutes before the fatal signal, Ryan and Kennedy communicated about whether Ryan was to resume her plane guard station. Again, the circuit was functioning.
“Now, the JOD of Ryan, Lenson, has stated that the pritac speaker was either malfunctioning or turned down to reduce the noise on the bridge. The receiver was located on the starboard side of the pilothouse. The pilothouse on Gearing-class destroyers is only twenty feet wide. Let’s look at the positions of the officers approximately two minutes before the collision, as given by Mr. Lenson.
“At this time, Captain Packer had given his first rudder order, left standard, with no indication of alarm or urgency. During this period, Lenson was on and off the port wing. The receiver was at least twenty feet from him, with a doorway intervening. Thus it is not surprising that he did not hear the transmission. Lieutenant Evlin, the OOD, apparently was on the port side, by the chart table, checking the solution that he had been ordered to work out by the captain.
“Where was Packer?
“The evidence shows that he was either on the centerline of the bridge, using the alidade, or more likely standing by his chair on the starboard side. In the first instance, he would be fifteen feet from the receiver; in the second, he would have been beside it. In either case, he was the closest man to it.
“Conclusion: The commanding officer was the most likely person to have heard Kennedy’s signal changing her course, and probably, considering the low volume and the locations of the other officers, he was the only one who did.
“Let’s go on to something that I only learned this morning, with the receipt of a message from USS Garcia. Her captain informs me that from 0100 to 0330 on the 25th, his primary receiver was inoperative. He was operating with his secondary, which had lower sensitivity. Garcia states that although he received the formation turn signal, which went out with the carrier’s antennas basically pointing at him, he did not receive or hear the ‘mike corpen’ signal. Yet Captain Javits stated that he received an acknowledgment from Garcia.
“At the time, it seemed unimportant. Garcia wasn’t involved in the collision. But now we see that the testimony on this point was inaccurate. The signal went out to five ships; it was acknowledged by four. We thought the missing ship was Ryan. It now appears that it was Garcia.
“Conclusion: It is probable that the ‘mike corpen’ two-five-zero signal was not only received but acknowledged by Ryan’s captain.
“Now, at one minute and forty-five seconds before the collision, we see from Exhibit E that the bearing and range of Kennedy from Ryan was zero-six-zero true, two thousand yards. Yardner and Pettus testified that it was then Captain Packer abruptly ordered his helm left full and shortly thereafter left hard. What were his other choices? A centered rudder would have resulted in a head-on collision. He could have slowed; could have brightened his lights; he could have sounded his whistle. But all of these would have taken time, the one thing he did not have.
“In the absence of any evidence to the contrary, Commander Packer must be presumed to have acted as a reasonable and prudent officer would have in that circumstance.
“And, in fact, it is likely that if Kennedy had really been on a course of two-five-zero—as she had just told Ryan she was—rather than five or ten degrees away, and swinging toward it, Packer’s actions would have resulted in Ryan passing clear, this court would not be sitting, and one hundred and seventy-eight men would still be alive.
“Conclusion: It was the misleading signal that led to his last-minute increase in left rudder and the subsequent collision.
“With these facts in mind, it is easy to reconstruct the chain of events that led to the accident.
“My narrative begins with the conversation between Evlin and Commander Packer. The captain had formulated a maneuver he would make if Kennedy came to recovery course and he was instructed to take plane guard again. He indicated the intention to come right to one-three-zero true until Kennedy bore about zero-one-zero true, then turn left and slide into position behind her.
“Mr. Evlin objected, but Packer overruled him in view of the hortatory but ill-advised message from Rear Admiral Hoelscher. This ended the discussion, and he left the bridge.
“No one will ever know what effect Evlin’s recommendation had on him. It seems logical to conclude that it had some effect. In the time between this discussion and the commencement of the maneuver, while he was getting his pipe, it is reasonable to think that Commander Packer reexamined this decision in the privacy of his cabin. As he did, he probably realized that Evlin’s suggestion had some merit, though not in the way the lieutenant meant it.
“That is, Packer must have belatedly realized that one-three-zero would take him wide of the carrier and that he would conclude the maneuver aft of her and somewhat wide of station. During the turn that would then be necessary to reach it, he would be falling astern every moment. If he did so, he would never regain position. Why? Because Ryan had boiler power available for only about 29 or 30 knots, and the recovery speed was twenty-seven. Losing speed in the turn, and accelerating only gradually, he would lag behind the carrier, and would take long minutes—perhaps as long as half an hour—to regain station, if indeed he ever did.
“This, if anything, would constitute ‘sluggish maneuvering’ in Admiral Hoelscher’s book.
“I believe he then formulated a different maneuver in his mind. When he felt Ryan heel, he went to the bridge and found Evlin on a course of one-three-zero, as directed. He took the conn from him and ordered a course change to zero-nine-zero. Then, waiting as Kennedy closed, watching her intently, he ordered a left rudder. What was in his mind?
“I believe that he intended to fulfill his orders to maneuver smartly by steaming down Kennedy’s port side at close range, then executing a Williamson turn. As the Court knows, this is a high-speed course reversal used to pick up men overboard. Its effect is to bring the ship rapidly around in a loop so that she has swapped ends and is steaming back along her original wake.
“At the moment of maximum danger, however, Packer hears the carrier announce she is not on two-six-zero but on two-five-zero. Taken aback, he acknowledges the signal, simultaneously considering how to react. Looking at Kennedy, he may very well have concluded that he was actually on her starboard bow, as he would have been if she had swung a little past two-five-zero in coming to it—certainly not unlikely. Remember, as Captain Javits has said, destroyermen are taught to regard a carrier with ‘caution and to some degree even suspicion.’”
“Now Packer had to act. The range was closing rapidly. His rudder was already left. He did not have time to reverse it, and if he believed he was on her starboard bow, such an order would have been fatal, anyway. His decision was to increase his rudder to left full.
“A few seconds later, with horror, he must have noted that Kennedy’s bearing was nearly constant. He immediately increased rudder and ordered emergency flank speed. Unfortunately, as Lieutenant Talliaferro has testified, he was disappointed in this because of the slow response of the engines due to water remaining in the fuel tanks from ballasting in the Arctic—a decision he made reluctantly, and events bore him out.
“So, at hard left rudder and high speed, Ryan tried to shoot across the bow of an oncoming ship thirty-five times heavier than she was. If she had traveled another two hundred feet, she would have made it. If she had made another hundred feet, Kennedy would have hit her fantail, damaging her, but without much loss of life, since most of the crew were midships and forward.
“But the emergency speed was not forthcoming. There was a collision, and Ryan went down.
“Every fact in this narrative is in the record. The proximate cause of the collision was Admiral Hoelscher’s ill-advised threat. The immediate cause was Captain Javits’s mistaken course signal.
“It is true that Commander Packer did not inform Kennedy of his intentions, nor did he use his whistle. It can be said that his only thought at that point was to save his ship. No knowledge given to Kennedy could have done that. Signals could not have changed the momentum of thousands of tons of steel.
“We have now covered the major causes of the collision and found Commander Packer guiltless. Let us now go on to contributing causes.
“There is no reason why the plane guard could not have been stationed prior to turning the carrier to recovery course. Doubtless because it takes a few seconds more, it was not Hoelscher’s policy.
“Next, Commander Packer was called on to perform like an expert on the first night he had been with the formation, after four months in the yard and two and a half weeks of independent steaming.
“Finally, there is the question of the adequacy of an old ship like Ryan to keep up with modern carriers. Kennedy can make upward of thirty or thirty-five knots. If we’re honest, we must conclude that Ryan could actually manage no more than about twenty-eight or twenty-nine on the night in question. The task group commander and the commanding officer of Kennedy had no compunction about maneuvering at very high speeds, and there is no evidence they gave any thought to the demands this placed on their screening units.
“But we should not place the mantle of guilt solely on the shoulders of Captain Javits and Rear Admiral Hoelscher. The maneuver that ended this time in disaster has been performed many times before, and as Captain Javits has pointed out, is probably being performed at this moment somewhere on the oceans of the world. At least two ships to my knowledge have been lost to collisions with carriers since World War Two. One wonders how many near-misses there have been. Unfortunately, last Christmas Eve, all the links in the chain of circumstances were there for disaster.
“I submit that if Ryan had not been run down, it might have been Bordelon, Belknap, Laffey, or Claude Ricketts. If the carrier had not been Kennedy, it might have been Coral Sea or Enterprise. By assigning blame to one man, we set the stage for recurrence of such disasters. I respectfully ask the Court to bear that in mind when they find where the responsibility for it lies.
“I know that in so doing, they will decide that the captain of USS Reynolds Ryan, Commander James J. Packer, USN, performed his final duties coolly, competently, and in the best traditions of the naval service.”
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COUNSEL for Lieutenant Evlin then made the following oral argument.
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“PRESIDENT and members of the Court: The able counsel for the Court, together with the other counsels, parties, and witnesses, have set forth in the course of this inquiry every detail concerning a maritime disaster that resulted in the loss of a fine ship and nearly two hundred men.
“It is unnecessary for me to recount again a narrative that has been reiterated until the final moments of Ryan have been engraved on our memories forever. It would be presumptuous for me, as a civilian, to attempt to tell you what your findings should be. You have far more experience than I at sea and can judge both with wisdom and compassion.
“That said, I would like to make a few remarks about Lieutenant Alan Evlin.
“During this hearing, Lieutenant Evlin has been the subject of the lowest sort of gossip and character assassination, such sly and loathsome chatter as I never heard during my time in service, though I have since—in divorce cases. Now we hear dismaying hints of the motives that may have lain behind those insinuations. No, sir, you need not object; I will say no more about Commander Bryce’s testimony. Far too much has been heard about it already.
“We are concerned rather in this hearing with Lieutenant Evlin’s performance in the half hour or so prior to his heroic death—for his last act, fighting the flames as Ryan was going down, can only be described as that of a hero. He gave his life for his shipmates. Is this the act of an incompetent coward? I think you will agree it is not.
“Instead, we see from all the testimony here given that in the last moments of his career, Lieutenant Evlin acted wisely and correctly. He recommended a safe maneuver to the captain and persisted to the point of argument when he was overruled. Once given his orders, however, he carried them out punctiliously, meanwhile setting his junior partner to a continuous surveillance of the prime source of danger.
“In the last moments before collision, yielding the conn to the captain as naval law requires, he nevertheless did not turn aside. He plotted the new course and advised Packer he was standing into danger. Our account of subsequent events is spotty, but it is clear he continued to assist the captain until all hope was gone. When Ryan drifted broken like a child’s toy, to whom did James Packer turn for an opinion? To Evlin. It is evident that the commander of Ryan, whether or not he was ultimately responsible for the disaster, had the highest confidence in his senior watch officer.
“Finally, when ‘abandon ship’ was passed, did Evlin follow the dictates of fear? No. He went in harm’s way to save his shipmates, and paid for their lives with his own.
“Members of the Court, I believe that considering these facts, you will conclude that if you had been in charge on Ryan’s bridge in those terrible last moments, you could have wished for no better officer beside you than Alan Evlin. Quiet, deliberate, selfless, courageous, he was a man the Navy could ill afford to lose. I have been proud to represent him, and I thank you for that opportunity.”
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THERE being no further arguments, the counsel for the Court closed as follows:
Although the widest latitude has been given to parties and counsel for argument, this Court will base its findings solely on evidence produced in Court and not on theory, conjecture, hearsay, or hypothesis.
I additionally wish to call the Court’s attention to, and ask the Court to take judicial notice of in their deliberation, certain sections and articles in current U.S. Navy and NATO tactical publications. I mention specifically Articles 476, 477, 478, and 1273A of the General Tactical Instructions; Articles 513, 532, 533, 576, 577, 581, 1506, 1508, and 1522, Allied Naval Maneuvering Instructions; Articles 923, 924, 951, 952, and 1191 of Carrier Task Force Maneuvering Instructions. I also mention the International Rules for Prevention of Collision at Sea and U.S. Navy Regulations. These materials have been placed in the room set aside for your deliberation.
I have no further remarks.
At 1638, the members retired to their deliberations.