McNamara Robert S. - The living and the dead : Robert McNamara and five lives of a lost war

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S EPTEMBER 29, 1972. The easily recognized and semifatalistic man standing in the lunchroom of the M. V. Islander as it crossed Vineyard Sound that rainy Friday evening could not possibly have knowncould he?that a murderous rage was climbing up inside the throat of someone just feet away from him. Certainly, had Robert S. McNamara been aware, he would not have set down his drink on the metal counter, wouldnt have said to his companion, Excuse me a minute, Ill get this and be right back, would never have turned and followed a short, bearded stranger in tennis shoes out into the darkness. But wouldnt almost anybody have done the same thing? you ask. Probably, although the assailant himself is still puzzled, even in his ambivalence and periodic shame about that night, over how trusting his victim seemed, how willing to comply. It was almost as if McNamara had long been waiting for such a moment and understood implicitly it was now here. Listen:

He just stopped in the middle of his conversation and nodded and followed me right out. Ive never really understood that part of it. I must have been pretty convincing, thats all I can think. I remember he was leaning up against the counter of the snack bar, laughing and talking. He had on these sporty weekend clothes. I dont know, the two of them just seemed above everything around them, maybe thats part of what got to me. Anyway, I walked right up to him and said, Mr. McNamara, theres a phone call for you. Please follow me. I didnt even know what I was going to say. I swear the words just came out. Its not like I told myself, okay, this is it, youre gonna take the guy outside and throw him off the goddamn boat.

The M. V. Islander, a serviceable old tub built in 1950 by the Maryland Drydock Company, is a double-ender in her design, which means that either end can serve as stern or bow, depending on the direction the boat is headedto Marthas Vineyard or back to the mainland at Woods Hole, Massachusetts. The lunchroom, which is about the size of a living room, sits up on the ferrys top deck, just behind the pilothouse. During night crossings, and especially when the weather is bad, this small, brightly lit area of the vessel is nearly always packed and noisy, a kind of lantern against the seas roughness. Nobody pays much attention to famous faces in the lunchroom; famous faces are a lot of what Marthas Vineyard is about in the first place. The trip across Vineyard Sound takes forty-five minutes and covers seven miles of open water. Mostly it is a boring transit, something you have to put up with to get from here to there.