"No delays," he said.
"That has been discussed. Sit down, Mr. Hart."
"Very good, sir," Tommy said, taking his seat.
MacNamara coughed and let silence fill the room before continuing.
"We will now get under way with opening arguments…"
Once again. Tommy pushed to his feet, scraping the chair backward and then clicking his heels together. MacNamara eyed him coldly.
"Objection?" he asked.
"Indeed, yes. Your Honor," Tommy replied.
"I would renew my objections to these proceedings taking place at this time because under United States military law. Lieutenant Scott is entitled to representation by a fully accredited them her of the bar.
As Your Honor is acutely aware, I have not yet reached that position, whereas my worthy opponent"-he gestured toward Walker Townsend-"has indeed. This creates an unfortunately prejudiced environment, where the prosecution has an unfair advantage in expertise. I would request that these proceedings be delayed until such time as Lieutenant Scott has made available to him a fully qualified counselor, who can more fully advise him of his rights and potential tactics in confronting these baseless charges."
Again, MacNamara continued to stare at Tommy, as the young navigator sat back down.
Lincoln Scott whispered to him, then, in a voice that contained a grin that was hidden from his lips and the men who were eyeing them.
"I like that one. Hart. I definitely like it.
Won't work, of course, but I truly like it. And anyways, what would I want with another lawyer?"
To their right. Walker Townsend arose. MacNamara nodded toward him and the easygoing, slightly accented words of the prosecutor filled the air.
"What my colleague suggests is not unreasonable. Your Honor, although I would argue that Lieutenant Hart has already amply demonstrated his abilities in the courtroom. But I do believe that throughout much of the defense's preparation they were assisted quite ably by a senior British officer, who is also a well-known barrister in that nation, sir, fully versed in all the diverse elements of criminal proceedings-" Tommy immediately leapt up, slicing off the southerner's words.
"And who was summarily removed from the camp by the German authorities!"
He angled forward, staring at Visser.
"And probably murdered!"
This word pitched the gathering of kriegies into hubbub and turmoil. A tangle of voices cascaded through the room.
Visser didn't budge. He did, however, slowly reach for one of his long, brown cigarettes, which he took his time to remove and ignite, carefully manipulating the package and then the lighter with his only arm and hand.
"There is no evidence of that." Townsend replied, his voice raised slightly.
"Indeed," Colonel MacNamara added.
"And the Germans have given their assurances-" "Assurances, sir?
"Tommy interrupted.
"What assurances?"
"The German authorities have assured us that Wing Commander Pryce was to be safely repatriated," MacNamara said sternly.
Tommy felt an ice-cold anger within his stomach. For a moment, he was almost blinded by outrage. There was, he realized, absolutely no reason whatsoever for the Senior American Officer at Stalag Luft Thirteen to have any knowledge at all about Phillip Pryce's removal from the camp.
Pryce was under British jurisdiction and their own chain of command.
That MacNamara had received an assurance, no matter what sort, meant only that they were somehow involved in his removal. This recognition battered him, and for a moment he staggered inwardly, trying to assess what it truly meant. But he had no time for reflection, so instead, he blurted out:
"They are our sworn enemy, sir. Whatever assurances they might have given to you must be interpreted in that light."
He paused, then demanded: "Why would you think they would not lie?
Especially to cover up a crime?"
Again MacNamara glared at Tommy. He banged a few times on his homemade gavel, although the kriegies in the courtroom had already quieted. The hammering sound echoed slightly.
"I do remember that fact, lieutenant, and there is no need for you to remind me. No delays!" he burst out.
"Opening statements!"
The SAO turned to Walker Townsend.
"You are ready, captain?"
Townsend nodded.
"Then proceed! Without further interruption. Lieutenant Tommy started to open his mouth, as if to reply, though in reality he had nothing he wanted to say, having already accomplished what he wished, which was to put everyone in the camp on notice that whatever they thought, convicting Scott wasn't going to be a milk run. And so, he sat down, still troubled by what he'd heard so far. He stole a quick glance over at Townsend, who seemed to be slightly flustered by the defense's first salvos. But Townsend was a veteran, Tommy could see, of both the courtroom and combat, and within a few seconds had composed himself. He took several strides to the center of the room, half-turning so that he was addressing the tribunal, the assembled airmen, and, in part, the German observers. He was about to begin when there was a small disturbance from the rear of the theater building. Out of the corner of his eye. Tommy saw Visser slam his chair upright and rise to his feet. So did the stenographer, instantly coming to attention.
MacNamara and the other members of the tribunal all rose, and this prompted Tommy to reach out and grasp Lincoln Scott by the sleeve, and the two of them also stood. As they did, they heard the rat-a-tat sound of well-heeled boots coming down the center aisle, and they half-turned and saw Commandant Von Reiter, as usual accompanied by a pair of adjutants, approaching the makeshift courtroom.
It was MacNamara who spoke first.
"Commandant," he said.
"I was not aware you planned to attend this session."
Von Reiter threw a single glance over at Visser's instantly scowling face, then replied with an offhand wave, "But Colonel MacNamara, the opportunity to witness the famed American style of justice is rare indeed! Alas, my duties will not permit me to attend the entirety of the trial. But I will be pleased to come when I can manage. Surely, this would not be a problem?"
MacNamara allowed a small smile of his own to slide across his face.
"Of course not, commandant. You are welcome at any time. I only wish that I had made arrangements for a seat."
"I will be pleased to stand," Von Reiter said.
"And please, keep in mind that Hauptmann Visser is the official observer for the Reich as provided by Luftwaffe High Command.
My presence is merely, well, how shall I say it? Merely to satisfy my own curiosity about these matters. Be so kind as to continue."
Von Reiter smiled and moved to the side of the theater building.
Several kriegies quickly moved to make a space for him, jamming themselves amid their own countrymen to avoid coming into contact with the austere German commandant, almost as if the sense of ancient aristocracy that he wore was somehow a disease best avoided by the democratic citizen-soldiers of the air corps. Von Reiter seemed aware of the shuffling, and he leaned up against the wall with a bemused look on his face.