"The Right Thing to Do"

Commander Scott Waddle was in his private hell. His submarine, the U.S.S. Greeneville, had sunk a Japanese fishing vessel off Hawaii, killing nine people. His career in the Navy was over. He was potentially facing a court-martial. His lawyer had told him to remain silent. And still Waddle decided to stand up last week and testify at the Navy's court of inquiry into the accident. "This court needs to hear from me. It is the right thing to do," said Waddle.

The courtroom was stunned. It was the 12th and final day of testimony in the inquiry into why the 6,900-ton nuclear sub shot to the surface in a procedure known as a ballast blow, slicing into the hull of the 190-ft. Ehime Maru and causing it to sink within minutes. The court, which is to decide what action, if any, is to be taken against Waddle, 41, and two other officers, had heard conflicting accounts of how well Waddle ran his ship. A petty officer in charge of analyzing sonar data had conceded he had been "a little bit" lazy in not telling Waddle that a ship appeared to be just 4,000 yds. away. Questions had been raised about the extent to which 16 civilians onboard may have interfered with safety procedures.

But now the man at the center of the tragedy was coming out to testify--even though the Navy had refused to give him immunity for his testimony against any future proceedings. While Waddle spoke, his lawyer, Charles Gittins, sat despondently with his head in his hands, pulling at his hair. Waddle was on his own, and he knew it. Conceding that "mistakes were made," Waddle said, "as commanding officer, I am solely responsible for this truly tragic accident, and for the rest of my life I will have to live with the horrible consequences."

As Waddle endured blistering questions from the three admirals presiding over the inquiry, the complex character of the 20-year veteran of the Navy was put on full view. Here was a charismatic fast-track officer who was worshipped by the enlisted men but whose headstrong manner rubbed against the more cautious instincts of his senior officers. Waddle exulted in his command and couldn't stop himself from telling civilians the speed and depth his submarine could attain, even though the Navy regards such information as classified.