{"product_id":"the-bravest-man-isbn-9780891418894","title":"The Bravest Man","description":"“There’s no margin for mistakes in submarines. You’re either alive or dead.”\u003cbr\u003e–Richard O’Kane\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHailed as the ace of aces, captain Richard O’Kane, winner of the Congressional Medal of Honor for his consummate skill and heroism as a submarine skipper, sank more enemy ships and saved more downed fliers than anyone else.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNow Pulitzer Prize—winning author William Tuohy captures all the danger, the terror, and the pulse-pounding action of undersea combat as he chronicles O’Kane’s wartime career–from his valiant service as executive officer under Wahoo skipper Dudley “Mush” Morton to his electrifying patrols as commander of the USS Tang\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003eand his incredible escape, with eight other survivors, after Tang was sunk by its own defective torpedo.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAbove all, The Bravest Man\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003eis the dramatic story of mavericks who broke the rules and set the pace to become a new breed of hunter\/killer submariners who waged a unique brand of warfare. These undersea warriors would blaze their own path to victory–and transform the “Silent Service” into the deadliest fighting force in the Pacific.William Tuohy served with the U.S. Navy in the Pacific in 1945—46. He won the Pulitzer Prize in 1968 for his Vietnam War reporting in the Los Angeles Times. As a journalist, Tuohy covered the conflicts in the Middle East, Central America, Northern Ireland, and the Gulf, as well as covering the fall of Saigon in 1975 and the Berlin Wall in 1989. He is the author of Dangerous Company: Inside the World’s Hottest Trouble Spots with a Pulitzer Prize—winning War Correspondent\u003ci\u003e.\u003c\/i\u003e Tuohy divides his time between the United States and the United Kingdom.Chapter One\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Wahoo is Expendable”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    At the first, pale light on a January morning in 1943, Wahoo carved  through the calm waters of the South Pacific with   her crew at full alert. In the breaking, shimmering dawn, the sleek,  matte-black American submarine strained on the surface at full speed, 18  knots, her powerful diesel engines leaving a boiling wake astern. Wahoo  was approaching the Vitiaz Strait, a narrow waterway separating the  Solomon Sea from the Bismarck Sea off the northeast coast of the big  island of New Guinea. The strait was a maritime chokepoint, patrolled by  Japanese aircraft and anti-submarine vessels from nearby New Britain  Island—dangerous water for U.S. submarines.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Wahoo’s seventy-one crewmembers shared an edgy expectancy. They were  embarked on a war patrol to seek out armed, enemy ships. They would be  risking all. Thousands of miles from a friendly port, they would face the  enemy alone. Defeat would mean death in their own iron coffin, in a  nameless deep. They were heading into a no man’s sea, and Wahoo was fair  game for foe, or even friend—patrol planes from Australia had a nasty  habit of dropping bombs on American submarines. Normal doctrine called for  Wahoo to dive beneath the surface at first light and proceed submerged.  But the situation was not normal. Wahoo was holding to a breakneck pace to  reach a Japanese-occupied harbor, and running on the surface would save  precious hours.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Now, seven days out of the U.S. Submarine Base at Brisbane, Australia,  Wahoo was several hours ahead of schedule heading for her patrol area  around the Japanese-held Palau Islands east of the Philippines. En route  to her assigned area, Wahoo had orders to make a slight detour, if  possible, to reconnoiter the anchorage of Wewak on the north coast of New  Guinea, captured by the Japanese in the conquest of the East Indies the  year before. It was used by the Japanese as a   staging area to support amphibious operations in the Solomon Islands  chain. Thanks to her four powerful diesel engines Wahoo was able to  maintain an 18-knot speed, almost 21 statute miles per hour. (A knot, a  nautical mile per hour, is 1.15 statute miles an hour.) To fit in the  requested reconnaissance, Wahoo was running at full speed on the surface  despite the proximity of Japanese airfields. Submerged on batteries, her  speed would have been reduced to 5 or 6 knots at best.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Though crewmembers were apprehensive, they were curiously confident. For  Wahoo on her third war patrol was   commanded by two officers whom they trusted, and whose leadership was soon  to become famous throughout the U.S. Submarine Force. The sense of  confidence was pointedly shared by the executive officer, Lieutenant  Richard O’Kane, a handsome 31-year-old sailor with light-brown almost  rusty hair, a strong jaw, firm set to his mouth, and an open face. Dick  O’Kane was of medium height and in fine physical condition. A New England  Yankee, O’Kane was energetic and outgoing, but sometimes sharp-tongued.  His temperament was changeable, the crew thought. He could be voluble, or  he could be quiet. The XO seemed by turns charming or curt, warm or  irascible. But whatever his mood, he had a reputation as a hard-charger.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    O’Kane put Wahoo into commission on June 15, 1942, as executive officer  under then skipper, Commander Marvin Kennedy. O’Kane was delighted with  the vessel’s name. U.S. fleet boats were named after marine life and a  wahoo is a large, swift, game fish. But “Wahoo” sounded to O’Kane and the  crew like the name of an Indian tribe. So her battle flag pictured an  American Indian headdress.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Despite Wahoo’s early promise and well-trained crew, O’Kane, the number  two, was frustrated at Captain Kennedy’s performance as skipper on the  first two Pacific war patrols. He believed Kennedy was not aggressive  enough, and failed to press attacks against choice enemy targets,  including an aircraft carrier. Dick O’Kane decided he would not make a  third war patrol under Marvin Kennedy. He would ask for a transfer off  Wahoo.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    O’Kane’s unstated feelings were shared by the enlisted men and other  officers, and that mood translated into ragged morale among the crewmen,  who were all volunteers prepared to risk their lives on patrol. Wahoo,  with only one confirmed enemy ship sunk, had not made much of a record.  Captain Kennedy may have had his excuses, but the crew did not want  excuses. They wanted a good record. They wanted to sink enemy ships.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    What buoyed the morale of Dick O’Kane and Wahoo’s men was the presence of  a dynamic new skipper, Lieutenant Commander Dudley W. Morton, thirty-five,  a tall, dark-haired, broad-shouldered athlete, with ham-hands, a friendly  smile, and an approachable manner. Morton exuded confidence and ability.  He was familiar with the crew, having made the second war patrol aboard  Wahoo as the Prospective Commanding Officer—the PCO, or “makee-learn” in  sub slang.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Kentucky-born and Florida-raised, Morton acquired his nickname, Mush,  short for “Mushmouth,” at the Naval Academy because of his heavy Southern  drawl. Mush Morton liked roaming the boat chatting with the sailors.  Wahoo’s engineer, Lieutenant George Grider, thought Mush was built like a  bear and playful as a cub.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Dick O’Kane was familiar with Mush Morton’s record. Morton was a varsity  football player and wrestler who had been in command of the ancient  submarine R-5 in the Atlantic. Mush had vainly fired two torpedoes at what  he thought was a German U-boat. Transferred to the Pacific as a  Prospective Commanding Officer (PCO), Morton was assigned to the venerable  Dolphin as relief crew skipper. He looked the boat over, took her out on a  training exercise off Pearl Harbor, and decided the sub was too creaky and  should be retired—or assigned solely to training duties. “Dolphin is a  death trap,” Morton told the executive officer. “I’m going to try to get  off her. I advise you to do the same.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    This high-handed attitude, which branded Morton a maverick in the eyes of  some squadron commanders, resulted in his removal from command of Dolphin.  He was on the verge of being “surfaced” out of submarines to regular duty  when he was rescued by a senior staffer, Captain John H. “Babe” Brown,  also an Academy football player. Brown kept Morton in the PCO pool at  Pearl Harbor. He was assigned as a PCO passenger aboard Wahoo for the  second war patrol, which left Pearl Harbor traveling through the South  Pacific to Brisbane. Mush Morton was determined to vindicate himself and  Babe Brown’s confidence in him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    During Wahoo’s second patrol, Morton shared O’Kane’s view that Captain  Kennedy was far too cautious. The higher authorities in Brisbane  concurred, and on the last day of 1942, Mush Morton was given command of  Wahoo.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Dick O’Kane was impressed by Mush Morton’s first action on taking control.  Calling the crew together, Mush said quietly, “I am glad to have everyone  of you aboard Wahoo personally. What I have to say can be stated simply.  Wahoo is expendable. We will take every reasonable precaution, but our  mission is to sink enemy shipping. We are going out there on this war  patrol to search for Japs. Every smoke trace on the horizon, every contact  on watch will be investigated. If it turns out to be the enemy, we are  going to hunt him down and kill him.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Morton paused. “Now if anyone doesn’t want to go along under these  conditions, just see the yeoman. I am giving him verbal authority to  transfer anyone who is not a volunteer. Nothing will ever be said about  your remaining in Brisbane.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    A half-hour later, just before sailing time, Morton checked with Yeoman  Second Class Forest J. Sterling, the ship’s clerk.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Any customers, Yeo?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Not a one, Captain.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Morton grinned. “That’s the kind of stuff I like in a crew.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Now, sailing into combat, Wahoo had a captain and an executive officer who  seemed to form a command team infused with fighting spirit, which radiated  a mood of cockiness and assurance. Mush Morton clearly placed full trust  in Dick O’Kane, and the exec repaid his skipper’s faith with loyalty and  expertise.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Dick O’Kane was eager to fight. At the U.S. Sub Base in Brisbane a few  days earlier, he learned that his first submarine, the elderly USS  Argonaut, had been reported overdue and presumed lost—after a depth  charging by a Japanese destroyer in waters near New Britain, not far from  the Wahoo’s present transit area. What better way to avenge this personal  loss, O’Kane thought, than by using the training he gained from Argonaut  to help Wahoo score against the enemy? After three war patrols, O’Kane  knew that submariners liked being on a boat with a good combat record.  They wanted skippers and execs who could conduct a war patrol that would  make them proud.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    As for the crew’s view, Yeoman Sterling sensed Wahoo was different this  time out, with a strong spirit growing in her. There was more of a feeling  of freedom, of camaraderie, Sterling thought, of men being trusted to get  their jobs done. The ship was no longer uptight but relaxed, though still  taut and alert. The yeoman thought that Wahoo would make her own luck.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e      Heading for Wewak, Mush Morton posted additional lookouts at the  bridge—rather than submerging at a much-reduced speed. Daylight surface  running was a new innovation, since U.S. subs usually spent the day  submerged when they were anywhere near enemy air searches. Morton’s bold  tactic did not sit well with everyone. Some Wahoo junior officers, going  into battle under the aggressive new skipper, had qualms—and wondered  whether their skipper wasn’t taking too many chances. George Grider, a  tall, thoughtful pipe-smoker from Memphis, Tennessee, believed some of  Mush Morton’s bolder comments during Wahoo’s second patrol reflected the  absence of a reasonable degree of caution. Running on the surface in  daylight near Japanese airfields seemed to Grider to be rash, if  invigorating. With Captain Morton on the bridge, Grider was Officer of the  Deck (OOD) when the lookouts spotted a plane in the far distance. Grider  prepared to scramble down the bridge hatch for the expected crash dive.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Let’s wait till he gets in to six miles,” Mush Morton said quietly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Great Lord,” Grider thought, “we’re under the command of a madman.” The  enemy plane closed to 61\/2 miles and then veered away. By not diving,  Morton saved hours. The tactic had worked, Grider grudgingly admitted, but  he wasn’t sure he was in favor of it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Entering Vitiaz Strait, from Wahoo’s flying bridge Captain Morton watched  the skies for Japanese planes. A lookout reported a Mitsubishi bomber that  had sneaked in four miles away.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Clear the bridge,” Morton ordered. “Dive! Dive!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “ahoogah, ahoogah.” Two raucous blasts sounded from the diving klaxon.  Lookouts tumbled below through the bridge hatch to the conning tower,  followed by Grider and Morton, who ordered, “Take her down.” The bridge  hatch clanged shut. The Quartermaster dogged it down.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    “Green board,” reported Chief of the Boat, Russell “Pappy” Rau at the  “Christmas tree” control board. “Pressure in the boat.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Wahoo slipped quickly beneath the surface. The main air induction valve  had slammed shut with a wheeze. Water   gurgled into the ballast tanks as air hissed and sputtered out. Throbbing  diesels abruptly stopped as the ship shifted to   battery-powered, electric drive to run smoothly under water. Wahoo was  closing Wewak and Morton decided to run submerged the rest of the day.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    In the control room, the officers discussed tactics. George Grider  suggested that the instruction “reconnoiter” meant to take a periscope  look outside Wewak harbor, and simply note the shipping activity.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    Captain Morton countered, “No, boy, the only way you can reconnoiter a  harbor is to go right into it and see what’s there.” With that, George  Grider glanced in consternation   at fellow officers—Roger Paine Jr., lean, dark-haired with a ready smile  who ran the torpedo data computer; and Richie Henderson, tall, thin, and  serious. It was clear, Grider decided, that the captain had advanced from  rashness to outright foolhardiness. It would be crazy for Wahoo to  submerge and enter an enemy harbor whose very location on the map they  couldn’t pinpoint.Pulitzer Prize winner","brand":"Presidio Press","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":44866269774053,"sku":"NP9780891418894","price":8.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780891418894.jpg?v=1767738525","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/the-bravest-man-isbn-9780891418894","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}