"I Was Begging God"

Scott Waddle was the commander of the U.S. submarine Greeneville when it sank the Japanese fishing vessel Ehime Maru off Hawaii on Feb. 9, killing nine people. Waddle was relieved of his command, and this week he faces a Navy court of inquiry into the episode. Though he has been advised by his lawyer not to discuss the events leading up to the collision, he spoke to TIME's Los Angeles bureau chief Terry McCarthy about the aftermath, his feelings and the controversy over making apologies to the families of the deceased.

I was born on Misawa Air Force Base in northern Japan--my father was career Air Force. We had a Japanese family who lived close by, and the mother, Toma Sugo, looked after me when I was young. My first language was Japanese. So I know how they do funerals. I know the honor in a Japanese family.

On the first Sunday after the accident, I wanted to accompany Admiral [Thomas] Fargo to meet the families [of the dead Japanese], but I was told by someone higher up that feelings were running high and that I should not go. So on Tuesday night last week [Feb. 27], I went to meet the Japanese Consul General, Minoru Shibuya, and Parliamentary Secretary for Foreign Affairs, Yoshio Mochizuki [who was visiting Hawaii], and I presented them with letters of apology to Prime Minister [Yoshiro] Mori and to the nine families of the deceased. I wanted them to see my face and know my apology and my emotions are sincere. In those letters I told the family members I will make apologies in person when the opportunity presents itself.

If I have to get in a rowboat and row to Japan, that is what I will do. During the interview, I lost my composure. I told them I apologized for losing my composure as a naval officer, but I did not regret losing my composure as a man who feels deep regret for the tragedy.

Shortly after the collision I raised the periscope and looked back to see what we had collided with. I was dumb struck. I had no idea any other vessel was in the area. I saw it listing to starboard and back to the stern. I remember crying out, "God, please get them off that ship." Within a minute or two it was upright and going down. I was begging God to get them off--and it was as if something died inside me.

It has been said that we were reluctant to render assistance [by opening the hatches to take on survivors]. But with the swell and the surge at the edge of the submarine, we would have overturned the lifeboats. The sub was like a seawall. That is why we waited for the Coast Guard to arrive. Twenty-six were saved by the Coast Guard, but when the captain said nine more were still missing, it was as if my heart had been ripped out of my chest.

But the captain has to maintain composure, and I did, at that tragic moment. On Saturday, having been reassigned, I was able to address the crew over the announcing system, and I reminded them to maintain integrity, to remember what they saw, not to add or embellish anything, because the truth will get us through this event. I loved my crew and feel proud to be a naval officer. That day I kind of felt like Job in the Old Testament--I lost my crew, lost my command and felt my faith was being tested.

Since the accident, the crew members have been sending me e-mails and letters of support. When I speak to them they still call me Captain, and I have to keep reminding them I am not their captain anymore. That is hard.

My career is terminated--an accident of this sort, whether or not I am exonerated, will end my career. As a man of honor, integrity and truth are important to me. Whatever mistakes were made, we need to find out what they were and make sure they don't happen again, make sure those lives were not lost in vain. My last acts as a naval officer will be to ensure there is closure for the families and that the truth is determined.