Written by a Pulitzer Prize-winning author, this tells the true story of an all-American war hero, Dick O'Kane and gives insights into the secret troubles of the U.S. Navy.
The Bravest Man
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Book Description
Editorial Reviews
About the Author
Bill Tuohy served with the US Navy in the Pacific in 1944-46. Then, as a journalist with the Los Angeles Times, he won the Pulitzer Prize for his reporting of the Vietnam War in 1968. Tuohy reported on the conflicts in the Middle East, Central America, Northern Ireland and the Gulf War, as well as the fall of Saigon in 1975 and the Berlin Wall in 1989. He is the author of Dangerous Company, a war correspondent's memoir (NY, William Morrow, 1987). Bill Tuohy is now retired and lives in London.
Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
Chapter One
“Wahoo is Expendable”
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.”
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.
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.
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.”
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.”
A half-hour later, just before sailing time, Morton checked with Yeoman Second Class Forest J. Sterling, the ship’s clerk.
“Any customers, Yeo?”
“Not a one, Captain.”
Morton grinned. “That’s the kind of stuff I like in a crew.”
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.
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.
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.
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 aggressiv... --This text refers to the Mass Market Paperback edition.
“Wahoo is Expendable”
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.”
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.
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.
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.”
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.”
A half-hour later, just before sailing time, Morton checked with Yeoman Second Class Forest J. Sterling, the ship’s clerk.
“Any customers, Yeo?”
“Not a one, Captain.”
Morton grinned. “That’s the kind of stuff I like in a crew.”
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.
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.
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.
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 aggressiv... --This text refers to the Mass Market Paperback edition.
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62 of 63 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
The Human Side of the Undersea War,
By
This review is from: The Bravest Man (Hardcover)
The title of The Bravest Man refers to Richard O'Kane, the most successful American submarine commander in the Second World War. While this book focuses on O'Kane's wartime career on the submarines USS Wahoo and USS Tang, it also examines the careers and exploits of other successful American submarine commanders in the Pacific War. A reader might wonder why another book on O'Kane's career is necessary, given the availability of O'Kane's own book, Clear the Bridge in 1977, as well as Clay Blair's Silent Victory and Theodore Roscoe's US Submarine Operations in World War II. The justification for a new book on O'Kane is provided both by the style and the manner in which the author chooses to deliver this story. Unlike other accounts, which tend to be rather meticulous but dry, the author succeeds in painting a wartime sea saga on a vivid canvas, with the protagonist contending not only against the enemy, but the sea itself, an interfering shore-based naval bureaucracy and even defective torpedoes. In these pages, O'Kane and his peers appear as human beings, not just ciphers in a tonnage-sunk chart. O'Kane started his rise to prominence in the submarine community while serving as executive officer under the legendary "Mush" Morton in the USS Wahoo in 1943. Morton was one of the first sub skippers to break with the over-cautious, unimaginative pre-war US submarine doctrine and embrace a more freewheeling and aggressive combat style. Tenacity was Morton's trademark, and O'Kane later adopted this mindset when he was given his own command on USS Tang. The author effectively demonstrates the deadly efficiency of the Morton - O'Kane combat team on Wahoo; the real weapon system was the well-trained and aggressive crew, not the submarine itself. After O'Kane left Wahoo for his own command on Tang, Morton's efficiency declined and he began to take more chances. In October 1943, Wahoo was lost off Japan and O'Kane's mentor was gone. However, in five patrols on USS Tang in 1944, O'Kane more than avenged the loss of Morton by sinking 27 Japanese vessels. The author details how O'Kane was innovative as well as brave, introducing efficient tactics for recovering downed US pilots at sea and daring shallow-water attack tactics. At the conclusion of his fifth patrol in October 1944, Tang was sunk off Formosa by one of its own torpedoes. O'Kane and eight of his crewmen were the only survivors and spent ten months in Japanese captivity. The final patrol of Tang is probably the best part of this book and the author details the sinking and incredible underwater escape of several crewmen in riveting detail. The brutal details of O'Kane's interrogation and captivity, which are usually not provided in other accounts, are revealed here. Interestingly, the Marine fighter pilot "Pappy" Boyington was in the same POW camp as O'Kane. This account also addresses the torpedo malfunctions, command problems and doctrinal deficiencies that plagued the US submarine force in the first eighteen months of the Pacific War. It still seems incredible that the US Ordnance Bureau ignored repeated evidence of torpedo malfunctions for so long, and the bureaucratic obtuseness that blocked technical improvements now appears almost criminal. A divided command structure, based partly in Australia and partly in Hawaii, also degraded US combat performance. US pre-war submarine doctrine, which focused on reconnaissance for the fleet rather than independent anti-commerce warfare, was another impediment to a successful submarine campaign. However, all the technical and bureaucratic hurdles had been overcome by 1944, which is when the US submarine force achieved its greatest results. While focusing on O'Kane, the author also examines the exploits of other top US submarine commanders in this period. These men, mostly US Naval Academy graduates, are followed at sea and ashore to give a complete picture of the special type of independent leaders that were required for this most demanding form of warfare. Unlike their surface counterparts, the US submarine skippers usually fought alone and deep inside the Japanese Empire. The author notes that fully 30% of submarine commanders were relieved in 1942 and 15% in 1943. Even good skippers suffered "burn-out" from continuous combat patrols. Furthermore, more than 20% of US submariners were lost in action, which was the highest loss rate for any combat arm. However the leaders and crews that emerged from this crucible of war, like O'Kane, Morton and Ned Beach, were top-notch. While this book offers little new in terms of operational details about submarine operations in the Pacific, it adds a vital human dimension that is often ignored in more standard accounts.
24 of 24 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Very entertaining and insightful,
A Kid's Review
This review is from: The Bravest Man: Richard O'Kane and the Amazing Submarine Adventures of the USS Tang (Mass Market Paperback)
I read this book as part of a History Day project I am doing on Dick O'Kane and the USS Tang. This book was extremely helpful. It tells the story of the Tang in a very thorough and easy to understand way. It's almost like you're there in the control room with the officers. Another great thing about this book is that it also gives you a good feel for the entire submarine force of WW2 by breifly telling many other stories about the best, worst, and most bizzare things that were happening, and explaining problems submariners had to face. All in all, if you want to get a great basic knowledge of WW2 Submarines, and read a gripping story about real heros and real drama, this book is for you.
23 of 24 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
the bravest skipper remembered,
By
This review is from: The Bravest Man (Hardcover)
"It's a big ocean," Dick O'Kane once told me. "You don't have to find the enemy if you don't want to."O'Kane was 60 when we met. He was a compact man, straight as a ramrod, with a small smile and bushy eyebrows. He loved to talk, especially on technical matters, but he seldom spoke about what it was like to be a submariner in the Pacific, in a war that claimed the lives of 22% of the Americans who went to sea in the pig boats, as submarines were called. It was a pleasure to meet him again in "The Bravest Man" and to learn more about his remarkable accomplishments in World War II. That a submariner need not find the enemy was brought home to O'Kane in 1942 on his first patrol in Wahoo, under an older captain who had learned caution in the peacetime Navy. The cautious skipper was replaced by Dudley "Mush" Morton, who with O'Kane's support made Wahoo the deadliest American boat in the Pacific, sinking nine ships on one ferocious patrol through the Yellow Sea, between China and Korea. "You can't afford to flinch," Morton said; "you can't afford to give up. You must constantly keep 'rassling, and keep shooting till you destroy him." Wahoo was later lost with all hands, not including O'Kane, who by then -- the fall of 1943 -- had command of Tang. He soon proved that he too had a great desire to keep 'rassling and to sink Japanese ships, despite the second-rate torpedoes supplied to American submarines. On its first patrol, Tang sank five ships; on its second, it rescued 22 American airmen, shot down in the battle for Truk at the center of the Pacific's Caroline Islands. On its fourth patrol, it set a U.S. record by sending 10 enemy ships to the bottom, despite new torpedoes that were sometimes as balky as the old. As a skipper, Richard O'Kane was audacious, persistent and inventive. He was willing to go up against the shore, if that's where the enemy was to be found. Yet he always had an escape route in mind -- and he took care of his people. Sailors clamored to join Tang, despite its record of going in harm's way. Alas, having a good captain is never enough. On Tang's fifth patrol, the odds caught up with O'Kane, and he had the unhappy experience of watching his 24th and last torpedo circle back to explode on the boat's stern. The men on the bridge were thrown into the water, but their troubles were scarcely over. It was the middle of the night, and they had no flotation gear. When morning came, 9 of the 87 crewmen were still alive, including some who had made the first-ever escape from a submarine sunk in combat. They were picked up by a Japanese destroyer, whose captain treated them decently but delivered them to starvation, torture and slave labor at Yokohama. Like aviators, submariners were classified as "special prisoners of Japan," imprisoned in the foulest camps with their existence unreported to the International Red Cross. Again O'Kane survived the impossible, to be reunited with his family and to receive the Medal of Honor from the hand of President Harry Truman. The author of "The Bravest Man" is himself a U.S. Navy veteran, who in 1968 won the Pulitzer as a reporter in Vietnam. Mr. Tuohy takes a curious approach to his story, first writing about Wahoo, then O'Kane's earlier life, and finally Tang and later events, interrupted by chapters on what the rest of the American sub pack was doing. This can sometimes be confusing. And the line-editing in the book is sometimes careless. But "The Bravest Man" is well worth reading, especially in a year when the USS O'Kane is on watch in the Arabian Sea, carrying the bravest man's name and legacy into the 21st century.
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