“You are to concentrate all fire on the first carrier we come to,” I said slowly and distinctly, “And to continue firing at it until we are no longer in range or I give you orders to shift targets. Do you understand?” I then ordered him to repeat my orders. I was taking no chance of having them misunderstood.
At any moment I expected someone on a Japanese ship to see us and give the alarm. I turned the helmsman. “Hard to starboard!” I barked. In response to my order, the Nevada veered sharply until we were sailing parallel to the Japanese vessels. They seemed so close that you could almost reach out and touch them.
With our more rapid speed, we had passed the two vessels at the rear of the line of ships and were coming alongside of the third, a large aircraft carrier. There was no reason to delay.
“All turrets are to commence firing immediately at the Japanese carrier,” I passed the order to fire control.
Almost immediately, there was a deafening explosion. The Nevada rolled from the recoil and the air hung heavy with the smell of cordite. A second and third salvo from our guns followed.
I scrutinized the carrier with my binoculars, searching for signs that we were damaging the carrier. There was none. I considered reducing the Nevada’s speed to match that of the carrier in order to continue pummeling her.
Suddenly, flames enveloped the carrier’s entire flight deck. The night sky was illuminated as though by the sun. Spontaneous cheers came from the men on the bridge.
The carrier shuddered and its forward movement fell off sharply. As we left her behind, I ordered fire control to shift all fire to the next carrier in line.
Our new prey veered to port in a futile effort to evade the Nevada’s onslaught. It was already too late. Our first salvo had found its mark. There was a massive explosion on the carrier’s stern and its course became irregular. Two more salvos and we were racing past her, bearing down on the third carrier in line.
My order to fire control to shift all fire to the next target had just left my lips when a petty officer standing next to be shouted with alarm, “Sir, there’s a large Japanese vessel on our starboard bow!”
“Is it a heavy cruiser?” I asked.
“Hell, no!” came the reply. “It’s a battleship!”
I peered ahead with my binoculars. I had no experience in distinguishing between the silhouette of a battleship from that of a cruiser, but there was no doubt that the enemy craft racing toward us was large. As I watched, it launched a salvo in our direction.
Instinctively, I ducked down below the bridge window, although I knew rationally that the thin metal shield would be inadequate to protect me from one of the battleship’s shells. “Hard to port!” I yelled to the helmsman. Then to Stevens, I said, ”Can you steer us between the carriers?”
“I don’t know if there’s enough space. Sir,” he answered doubtfully.
“Let’s try it!” I decided. “I don’t see any purpose to slugging it out with another battleship.”
The Ensign thought for a moment. Then he rapidly gave a new course heading to the helmsman. The Nevada veered sharply to the left and raced toward its rapidly changing target, the small space between the two carriers.
Stevens altered our bearing several times to adjust to the speed and bearing of the carriers. I breathed a sigh of relief as we narrowly squeezed between the carriers. Suddenly, there was a loud explosion and the Nevada rolled sharply, throwing me to the deck.
Dazed, I managed to stand. I did not feel any pain. Looking around nobody on the bridge appeared hurt.
“What’s happened?” I demanded.
“We were hit by the last salvo from the battleship,” Stevens yelled at me. “It knocked number three turret out of action.”
I followed his gaze toward the Nevada’s stern. Smoke was pouring from number three turret and its guns were awry. Damage control personnel appeared to be successfully extinguishing a fire on our stern.
Stevens said something to me, which I could not hear. I signaled him to repeat it. Instead he pointed. The Nevada was bearing down on a second line of Japanese ships! The fleet was double the size I had anticipated!
“Hard to starboard,” I ordered. “I think we’re best off sailing between the two lines of Japanese ships.”
The Nevada’s new course was bringing us alongside the third carrier. I was about to order gun control to resume firing at the carrier when a roll of our ship registered the fact that we were doing just that.
I was congratulating myself at having for the moment evaded the Japanese battleship when a lookout shouted, “Battleship on our port bow!”
“How could that battleship have managed to pass through the line of ships and get ahead of us?” I asked Stevens.
“That’s a second Japanese battleship, sir!”
“Hard to port! I ordered the helmsman. “Stevens,” I said, fearful of what his response would be, “Can you get us through the second line of Japanese ships?”
“I’ll try, sir.” His voice was emotionless. I realized what a responsibility I was placing on the young Ensign.
Once again, he gave directions to the helmsman. Horrified, I watched the Japanese battleship racing toward us. I heard its salvo. This time I managed to retain my feet as its shells hit home. Number one turret disappeared in smoke and flame.
“Sir,” I was told, “Number one turret is out of action.”
Fortunately, the blows we had suffered had not seriously damaged the Nevada’s hull or diminished her speed. Somehow, Stevens succeeded in steering us through the narrow interval in the middle of the second line of Japanese ships between a fourth Japanese carrier and a tanker.
“Hard to starboard,” I ordered the helmsman. “Stevens,” I said, “That was the most brilliant seamanship I have ever witnessed! Congratulations! Now chart us a course back home to Pearl Harbor!”
As darkness swallowed the lights of the Japanese fleet behind us, I prayed that my good luck would continue and that we would be successful in evading any Japanese pursuers. In retrospect, it was obvious to me that if I had not followed my hunch and had launched the attack at dawn, as I had originally intended, the Nevada would have been sunk by the Japanese battleships.
After about half an hour with no further sighting of the Japanese, I felt safe enough to dismiss the crew from battle stations. As I did so, I used the loud speaker to congratulate them on their exemplary performance.
“Every American is proud of you today,” I told them. “We have avenged the treacherous Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor.”
With Stevens handling the bridge, I felt relaxed for the first time since I had taken command of the Nevada. The navy cot seemed almost comfortable. My appetite returned; I felt famished.
Turning to one of the men on the bridge, I asked him if he could order something hot brought up for me to eat. In a few minutes, I was digging into a plate of hot ham and eggs and fried potatoes served by a mess steward.
When I finished my meal, I took over the bridge from Stevens, sending the young Ensign to his cabin for a well-deserved rest. Before leaving the bridge, he filled me in on the damage the Nevada had suffered during the engagement. Structural damage to the vessel had been largely confined to the number one and number three turrets and to the fire-blackened area of the stern.
Our personnel losses troubled me more, thirty-eight crewmen dead and seventy-nine wounded. Some dozen of the wounded were so seriously hurt that the medics doubted they would live. As with the structural damage, most of the dead and wounded had been the stationed in the destroyed gun turrets.
Seeing my obvious concern, Stevens tried to cheer me up, commenting that the number of casualties was remarkably low, given the damage we had inflicted on the Japanese fleet. I found little comfort in this, nor in the realization that our losses were insignificant compared to the thousands of Americans killed the day earlier at Pearl Harbor.
It occurred to me that as the acting commander of the Nevada, the next thing I should do was to prepare a report to
the fleet commander on what ensued since the vessel set sail. I was mentally drafting my report when the lookouts spotted an aircraft approaching us. The latest bearings indicated we were within sixty miles of Pearl Harbor. I doubted that any Japanese plane was in the vicinity, but it was foolish to take any chances.
I was about to call the crew to battle stations when the lookout confirmed that the aircraft was a navy PBY observation plane. It circled the Nevada, then headed back in the direction of Pearl Harbor. The pilot would obviously report his spotting of us instantly to fleet command. I found this reassuring, as it would ensure that the necessary preparations for our reception would be completed prior to our arrival.
Some two hours later, the lookouts reported another sighting: smoke off the starboard bow. My initial thought was that it was most probably a merchant ship or conceivably a naval vessel patrolling the approaches to Pearl Harbor in the wake of the Japanese attack. My composure was shattered, by the next report, “It looks like a large warship… I think a battleship!”
I knew that all of the battleships in Pearl Harbor had been sunk or badly damaged in December 7th attack. If the sighting was indeed that of a battleship, it had to be Japanese. It was conceivable, I knew, that one of the battleships accompanying the carriers had correctly anticipated our intentions and managed to overtake us.
With only one turret still in operation, the Nevada was in no condition to fight a battleship. I considered altering our course in an attempt to flee when the lookouts reported a sighting off our port bow – another battleship! From their bearings, it was clear that both of the battleships were racing toward us!
Instinctively, I pressed the alarm, calling the crew to battle stations. Even as they responded to the call, I realized any effort to resist would be futile. Caught between the two Japanese battleships, the damaged Nevada could not hope to escape. Nor could we fight. Enemy salvos would turn the badly crippled Nevada into a twisted mass of wreckage within minutes.
As Stevens joined me on the bridge, I came to my conclusion. There was no point in sacrificing the lives of my brave crew in hopeless resistance. The only honorable course of action for me was to give the order to take to the lifeboats. Then, as captain, it was my duty to scuttle the Nevada and go down with my ship.
So much for carrying out my fantasy and becoming a national hero! My life was in ruins!
I dismissed the crew from battle stations and prepared to issue the order to abandon ship. How ironic I thought, for me to come so close to realizing my fantasy, only to see it end in disaster.
Turning to Stevens, I started to issue the order. I was amused at the bewildered expression on his face. He clearly had not expected me to dismiss the crew from battle stations.
“We can’t fight two Japanese battleships,” I explained. “It would just be a senseless slaughter.”
He nodded glumly in agreement. For the second time, I summoned up my resolve to issue the order for the crew to take to the lifeboats. Unexpectedly, Stevens interrupted me.
“Sir,” he said in an excited voice. “That ship off our starboard bow. I think it’s the Arizona!”
I turned and stared in the direction of the rapidly approaching battleship. Could it be, I wondered? “I suppose,” I said more to myself than to Stevens, “The Arizona might have followed our example and cut its moorings to escape the Japanese attack.”
The Ensign nodded, but said nothing. He was peering through his binoculars at the bearing on our port bow, where the lookouts had reported a second battleship.
Then he put down the binoculars and turned to me, a big grin on his face. “Sir,” He said, “That second battleship. It’s the Tennessee!”
“Thank God!” I answered, not meaning it. The fact that two other American battleships had survived the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor meant that I had altered the course of history far more than I had ever expected. The effects on the course of history could well be monumental.
As I spoke, the battleships continued to speed towards us, the interval between us rapidly narrowing.
“Sir,” came the report from the lookout who had first spotted the Arizona, “They are signaling us.” Slowly he read the signal flags. “They…are …ordering…us…to…heave…to, sir.”
I shook my head, hoping to clear my head sufficiently to deal with the new situation. It was to no avail. My fatigue was so great my mind refused to function. All I wanted to do was to sleep.
I turned to Stevens. “Please issue the necessary orders to comply with the ‘Arizona’s command.”
As he did so, I tried again to collect my thoughts. I walked to the side of the bridge where the strong wind helped revive me. Reviewing the Arizona’s message, it occurred to me that it might have been more politely phrased. Probably, I thought, economy off words is required in flag signals.
With my binoculars I studied the approach of the Arizona and the Tennessee. They were not alone. Numerous escort vessels, apparently destroyers and cruisers, accompanied them. Surprisingly, none seemed to bear any evidence of damage suffered in the Japanese attack.
As we crept along at minimum speed, I saw a launch appear from behind the Arizona and approach us. At the same time, the lookout reported another signal from the battleship.
“Prepare to receive boarders.” I ordered Stevens to have the gangway lowered and left the bridge to welcome the boarding party.
Reaching the deck, I saw the first boarder climb aboard. I was astonished by his appearance. I had expected a naval officer. Instead, I found myself facing a marine officer in fatigues, wearing combat boots and a metal helmet. He was waving a revolver in his right hand and encouraging those behind him with his left, looking like nothing so much as John Wayne in one of the World War II movies I had seen as a child.
The rest of his detachment quickly followed him on to the deck, about twenty marines, all garbed like the officer and carrying rifles. They formed a defensive perimeter, their backs to the railing guarding the gangway. Next to the marine officer stood a navy Captain, also wearing fatigues.
I approached to within a few yards of the Captain. The perimeter of marines prevented me from getting any closer, pointing their rifles at my chest. Saluting I said, “Welcome aboard the Nevada, sir. I am Lieutenant Maynard Snodgrass, senior officer and acting captain.”
The captain stared at me coldly. “You are under arrest, Lieutenant!”
I found it hard to believe my ears. This was not the warm welcome and congratulations I had expected.
“Arrested for what, sir?” I stuttered. “What are the charges?”
“As a starter, mutiny, piracy, murder and attempted murder!”
PART V
It took me a minute to comprehend what the captain had just told me. I struggled to formulate a reply, but had no time to before the Captain spoke again.
“All right, Snodgrass,” he barked, “Who are the other ringleaders?”
“What ringleaders, sir?”
“Have it your own way. Who are your accomplices?”
“Sir,” I said, standing as erect as I could. “I assumed command of the Nevada in my capacity as senior officer. I had no assistants or accomplices. I did so with the sole purpose of evading the Japanese attack by taking the Nevada to sea. Everything that followed was solely at my order and on my responsibility. The officers and men on board did no more than follow my orders.”
The navy Captain shrugged and turned to the marine officer next to him.
“Put this man under arrest! If he resists, shoot him!”
Two burley marines grabbed my arms and twisted them behind my back. I felt my wrists put into handcuffs, which were snapped shut.
“All right,” the navy Captain said to the marine officer. “Detail a detachment to take him into the launch. If he tries to speak to anyone, he is to be gagged.”
I was pushed roughly to the gangway. Descending it with my arms secured behind me was extremely difficult. Several times I nearly fell, just catching myself in the nick of t
ime.
I was shoved into the waiting launch, followed by four marines. Their leader, a master sergeant, pushed me down onto the deck and sat down next to me, never letting his eyes off me. The launch raced rapidly from the Nevada’s side. The last glimpse I had of the battleship that had rendered such service to her country was the shredded battle flag, and the wreckage of number three turret, with its guns awry.
My expectation that the launch would take us to the Arizona was incorrect. Instead, we sped past the battleship to a waiting destroyer. As the lunch was secured to the gangway, I was raised to a standing position by two marines and pushed up the gangway to the destroyer’s deck.
I reached it and saw the crew members staring at me with great curiosity.
We paused momentarily as the sergeant received instructions from one of the destroyer’s officers about where I should be taken. A sailor then led us to a small cabin. I was pushed inside and onto a berth on one side of the cabin. The sergeant and two of the marines took chairs facing. The remaining marine remained outside the cabin, presumably to guard it, as the door was locked from the outside.
The roar of the ship’s engines increased and I felt the destroyer pitch and roll as we picked up speed. The motion was far more violent than anything I had experienced on the Nevada. My head ached and I felt myself getting seasick.
“Could I have some water and an aspirin?” I asked the sergeant.
“If you say anything more, Lieutenant,” was the answer, “I’ll be forced to gag you.”
The tone of his voice left little doubt that he would enjoy carrying out his threat. I shut my eyes. With great effort, I managed to avoid vomiting. The four of us sat there in silence as the destroyer raced on.
After what seemed like an eternity, the motion of the ship eased. Probably, I thought, we had reached Pearl Harbor. My judgment was confirmed by the noises from beyond the cabin indicating the destroyer was tying up.
The door of the cabin was unlocked and I was jerked to my feet. Surrounded by my four guards, I was pushed along the corridor to the exit and out on deck. Night had fallen. When my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could see we had tied up along the dock of the navy base.
My Troubles With Time Page 12
