The date is October 24th, 1943. The American submarine USS Tang slices through the dark waters of the Tru Lagoon, one of Japan’s most heavily fortified naval bases in the Pacific. Commander Richard Okaine peers through the periscope at a site that makes his blood run cold. A massive Japanese convoy stretches across the horizon.

Seven cargo ships, three tankers, and four destroyers carrying ammunition, fuel, and reinforcements desperately needed by Japanese forces across the Pacific theater. Okane gives the order. The torpedo men loads six Mark1 14 torpedoes into the forward tubes. The firing solution is perfect. Range 1,200 yd.

 The convoy is practically sitting still. Okaane calls out the command. Fire one, fire two, fire three. Six torpedoes streak toward their targets. The crew holds their breath. We’re counting seconds until impact, but instead of the thunderous explosions they expect, they hear nothing. Through the periscope, Okaane watches in disbelief as all six torpedoes either run too deep beneath their targets, detonate prematurely hundreds of yards short, or simply fail to explode on contact.

 The destroyer’s screws suddenly accelerate. They’ve detected the tang. Depth charges begin to rain down as the submarine crash dives, escaping by mere seconds. Another mission, another failure, another fortune in munitions wasted while Japanese forces continue to receive supplies. This isn’t an isolated incident.

 By October 1943, the United States Navy submarine forces hemorrhaging credibility and effectiveness. Analysis shows that between December 1941 and October 1943, American submarines have fired approximately 1,500 torpedoes at enemy vessels, the hit rate is barely 18%. Even worse, of those that do hit, nearly 60% fail to detonate.

 Submarine commanders are returning from patrols having expended their entire torpedo load with nothing to show for it except frustration and rage. The cost is staggering. Each Mark1 14 torpedo costs $10,000 in 1943, equivalent to roughly $180,000 today. But the true cost is measured in something far more valuable. American lives.

Japanese cargo ships continue delivering supplies. Japanese warships continue hunting American vessels. The war in the Pacific is reaching a critical phase, and America’s primary weapon for strangling Japan’s maritime supply lines is fundamentally broken. What the Navy’s top brass didn’t know was that salvation would come not from the Naval Torpedo Station, not from MIT engineers, not from the Bureau of Ordinances expert weapons designers, but from a 23-year-old enlisted man who joined the Navy with only a high school education

and whose official job title was torpedo man’s mate third class. A man whom officers initially dismissed as just another mechanic. A man who would become known across the Pacific Fleet as the torpedo magician. The Mark1 14 torpedo represents years of theoretical engineering and millions of dollars in development costs.

 Designed in the 1930s by the Navy’s Bureau of Ordinance, it’s supposed to be America’s technological edge in submarine warfare. On paper, it’s revolutionary. A 3,000lb 20ft weapon capable of traveling 4,500 yd at 46 knots. must equipped with a 643 lb Torpex warhead and a sophisticated magnetic influence exploder that detonates beneath a ship’s keel, breaking its back.

 In practice, it’s a nightmare. The problems are multiple and catastrophic. First, the torpedoes run approximately 10 ft deeper than their set depth, passing harmlessly beneath enemy holes. Second, the magnetic exploder, designated the Mark 6, triggers prematurely or not at all, influenced by Earth’s magnetic field variations that weren’t accounted for during development.

 Third, even when commanders disable the magnetic feature and use contact detonation, the Mark 6 contact exploder frequently fails when torpedoes strike at perpendicular angles, the firing pins jamming on impact rather than detonating the warhead. Submarine commanders are desperate. Commander Dudley Mush Morton of USS Wahoo has experimented with reducing the depth settings by 10 ft to compensate for the running depth error.

Commander Lawrence Daspit of USS Tanosa fired 15 torpedoes at the Japanese tanker Tonan Maru. Three on July 24th, 1943 at point blank range. 11 struck the hull perfectly. Not one exploded. Daspit brought the last torpedo back to Pearl Harbor as evidence demanding answers. The Bureau of Ordinance’s response is consistent and infuriating.

 The torpedoes are performing exactly as designed. Any failures must be due to improper handling by submarine crews or faulty firing solutions by commanders. Rear Admiral William Blandy, who heads the bureau’s torpedo section, insists that the problem is with the submarine force, not the weapons when commanders present evidence of malfunctions.

 Bureau engineers produce test data showing flawless performance under controlled conditions, but those controlled tests are themselves compromised. To save money, the bureau conducts tests firing torpedoes into nets rather than actual ship holes. They test magnetic exploders in the calm waters of Chesapeake Bay, not the magnetic anomalies found near volcanic Pacific islands.

 They test contact exploders at oblique angles, not the perpendicular hits that submarines actually achieve in combat. The disconnect between theory and reality is absolute. By late 1943, the situation has become a crisis that threatens America’s Pacific strategy. Admiral Chester Nimttz, commander and chief of the Pacific Fleet, knows that submarines are supposed to be strangling Japan’s war machine.

 But Japanese industry depends entirely on imported raw materials. Oil from the Dutch East Indies, rubber from Malaya, iron ore from the Philippines, boxite from Borneo. Every cargo ship that reaches Japan extends the war and costs American lives in battles across the Pacific. The statistics are damning. In October 1943, American submarines patrol aggressively but achieve minimal results.

Japanese merchant tonnage sunk per submarine patrol averages just 3,400 tons, far below the 10,000 tons needed to seriously impact Japan’s war economy. American submarine losses are mounting while effectiveness stagnates. Something has to change, and it has to change immediately.

 The answer, when it finally comes, won’t emerge from laboratories or engineering offices or highle strategy sessions. It will come from the torpedo rooms themselves and from the men who handle these weapons everyday. From someone whom the brass would never think to consult. John Allan Casper grows up in rural Pennsylvania, the son of a factory worker and a school teacher.

 He graduates from Altuna High School in 1938 with decent grades, but no particular distinction and certainly no plans for engineering or military service. He works for two years at his father’s machine shop, learning to work with metal and mechanisms, developing an intuitive understanding of how things fit together and move.

 When war breaks out, Casper enlists in the Navy in January 1942, listing his occupation as machinists apprentice. The Navy, desperate for manpower and not particularly concerned with credentials, assigns him to torpedo school in Newport, Rhode Island. There he learns the official procedures for loading on maintaining and handling Mark 14 torpedoes. He memorizes the manual.

 He learns which bolts to tighten, which valves to check, which procedures to follow precisely. But Casper does something that sets him apart from his classmates. He asks questions that annoy his instructors. Why does the depth mechanism use this particular gear ratio? Why does the exploder firing pin have this specific spring tension? Why are certain adjustments forbidden even though the mechanism allows them? The instructor’s response is always the same. That’s how it’s designed.

 Follow the manual. After graduating torpedo school in June 1942, Casper receives assignment to USS Trigger, a Gatau class submarine operating out of Pearl Harbor. His official rating is torpedo man’s mate third class. He’s basically an enlisted mechanic responsible for maintaining the submarine’s 24 torpedoes and ensuring they’re ready for combat.

It’s unglamorous work, cleaning, lubricating, testing circuits, loading weapons into tubes, then unloading them, and starting over when missions are canled. But Casper pays attention to something nobody else does. He listens to the commanders after failed attacks. After a patrol in August 1942, where Trigger fires eight torpedoes with only one confirmed hit, Casper overhears Commander Roy Benson cursing in the wardroom. They ran too deep again.

 I had perfect firing solutions. I watched them pass right underneath. Casper files this away. After another patrol in November 1942, he hears similar complaints. Torpedoes running deep. torpedoes failing to explode, torpedoes detonating prematurely. Thus, during the downtime between patrols, while other torpedo men relax or sleep, Casper spends hours in the torpedo room.

 He disassembles depth mechanism after depth mechanism, measuring tolerances with precision tools he’s borrowed from the machine shop. He tests firing pins, measuring their travel and spring compression. He reads technical manuals not just for the Mark1 14, but for older torpedo models, comparing designs. And then in February 1943, Casper has his moment of insight.

He’s examining a depth mechanism that’s just been overhauled by the torpedo station in Pearl Harbor. According to the calibration certificate, it’s set perfectly for 10 ft. But something doesn’t look right to Casper. He takes measurements. The cam angle is off by approximately 2°. It’s within the Bureau of Ordinances specified tolerance.

burst. But Casper realizes something. If every mechanism is within tolerance in the same direction, the cumulative error could be enormous. He does the mathematics. If the cam angle produces a 2° error, and that error propagates through the hydrostatic valve and control surfaces, the torpedo won’t run at 10 ft.

 It will run at approximately 20 ft. Suddenly, all the commander complaints make perfect sense. The torpedoes aren’t malfunctioning. They’re running exactly where the flawed mechanism tells them to run. Casper knows he’s on to something, but he’s a 23-year-old thirdclass petty officer with a high school education. The Mark1 14 torpedo was designed by engineers at the Naval Torpedo Station with advanced degrees and decades of experience.

 Who’s going to listen to him? Casper makes a decision that could end his career. He’s going to modify a torpedo depth mechanism without authorization and without informing his superiors. And he’s going to prove that he’s right. Working late at night in Triggger’s torpedo room during a refit period in March 1943, Casper carefully disassembles a depth mechanism using precision files and measuring instruments, he adjusts the cam angle by hand, bringing it to what his calculation suggests is the true zero point. It takes him 4 hours of

painstaking work. When he’s finished, he reassembles the mechanism and installs it in a practice torpedo. The next problem is testing it without getting caught. Casper volunteers for an extra duty shift during a routine torpedo test firing at the Pearl Harbor torpedo range on March 17th, 1943. He ensures that his modified torpedo is loaded into tube one.

 The test proceeds normally. The torpedo is fired, runs its course, and is recovered. Casper’s heart pounds as he examines the telemetry. Official depth setting, 10 ft. Actual running depth recorded by the measurement equipment, 11 feet. It’s not perfect, but it’s dramatically better than the standard 20- foot error. He’s proven the problem exists and that it can be fixed.

 But when Casper tries to report his findings through proper channels, he hits a bureaucratic wall. His division officer, Lieutenant Junior Grade William Foster, listens to his report with growing alarm. Torpedo man, are you telling me you modified a torpedo mechanism without authorization? Casper explains his reasoning, showing his calculations and test results.

Foster’s face goes white. That is absolutely forbidden. Do you understand what you’ve done? Those tolerances are set by the Bureau of Ordinance. You don’t have the authority or the expertise to change them. Casper tries to argue. But sir, the test results the test results are irrelevant. Foster interrupts.

 You performed unauthorized modifications to a weapon system. That’s a court marshal offense. You’re damn lucky I don’t report this up the chain right now. Foster orders Casper to restore the mechanism to standard configuration and to never attempt such modifications again. Casper complies, but he doesn’t give up. He knows he’s right, and he knows that men are dying because of these flawed torpedoes.

 He needs to find someone willing to listen, someone with enough authority to act on his findings. His opportunity comes in May 1943 when Trigger gets a new commanding officer, Commander Edward Beachch Senior. A seasoned submariner with a reputation for innovative thinking and crucially for listening to his crew regardless of rank.

 Beachch is frustrated by the torpedo problems as much as any commander and is willing to consider unconventional solutions. Casper requests permission to speak with the captain privately. Beachch, intrigued by the young torpedo men’s intensity, agrees. In the captain’s cabin, Casper lays out everything: his measurements, his calculations, his unauthorized test, and his results.

 He expects dismissal, possibly punishment. Instead, Beachch leans back in his chair and says, “Show me the numbers again.” Commander Beachch studies Casper’s data for 3 days. He consults with Trigger’s executive officer and engineering officer, sworn to secrecy. They review Casper’s calculations independently and arrive at the same conclusion.

 The young torpedo is right. The depth mechanism tolerances are producing a systematic error that causes torpedoes to run deep. But Beachch faces a dilemma. If he reports this through official channels to the Bureau of Ordinance Durot their bury it just as they’ve buried similar complaints from other commanders.

 The bureau has too much institutional pride invested in the Mark1 14 to admit fundamental design flaws based on the observations of an enlisted man. Beach needs to force their hand with evidence so overwhelming that they can’t dismiss it. On May 21st, 1943, Beach requests an urgent meeting with Captain Charles Lockwood. The commander of submarines Pacific Fleet Compac Lockwood, frustrated to the breaking point by torpedo failures, agrees immediately.

 Beachch brings Casper with him despite protests from his executive officer that bringing an enlisted man to meet with a captain is highly irregular. In Lockwood’s office at Pearl Harbor, Beach presents Casper’s findings. Lowood listens, his famous temper held in check by sheer force of will. When Beach finishes, Lockwood turns to Casper.

Torpedo man, you’re telling me that every torpedo we fired for the past year and a half has been running 10 ft deeper than set because of cumulative tolerance errors? Casper, nervous but firm, replies, “Yes, sir, and I can prove it with a proper test.” Lockwood immediately grasps the implications.

 He calls in his staff and orders an immediate Acher comprehensive test. On May 31st, 1943, at the torpedo test range, they conduct a series of firings using standard torpedoes and torpedoes with depth mechanisms adjusted according to Casper’s specifications. They fire at a submerged net positioned at precise depths with measurement equipment recording exact torpedo trajectories.

 The results are devastating for the Bureau of Ordinance. Standard torpedoes set for 10 ft run at an average depth of 21 ft. Casper’s modified torpedoes run at an average depth of 11 ft. The evidence is irrefutable. Lockwood immediately sends a message to the Bureau of Ordinance in Washington detailing the test results and demanding immediate action.

 The Bureau’s response, dated June 4th, 1943, is dismissive. They insist their torpedoes perform as designed and suggest that the Pacific Fleet testing methodology is flawed. They refuse to authorize any modifications to depth mechanism specifications. That’s when the room erupts. Lowood calls an emergency conference on June 7th, 1943 at Comsupac headquarters.

 Present are commanders from across the Pacific Submarine Force. Dudley Morton, Richard Ocaine, Lawrence Daspit, and a dozen others. Also present, despite regulations, is torpedo men’s mate, third class John Casper. Lockwood presents the test results. Then he invites each commander to share their experiences.

 One by one, they describe firing torpedoes at perfect targets and watching them fail. Morton describes USS Wahoo’s patrol to the Yellow Sea, where they fired 24 torpedoes and achieved only four confirmed sinks. Desperate recounts his 15 torpedo attack on a stationary tanker. Okaane describes watching torpedoes pass beneath targets through his periscope.

 Then Lockwood invites Casper to explain his findings. The young torpedo man standing before some of the most experienced submarine commanders in the Navy walks them through his analysis. He uses a chalkboard to illustrate how tolerance stacking creates the depth error. He shows his calculations. He explains how simple modifications can correct the problem. There’s a moment of silence.

Then Commander Morton stands up and says what everyone is thinking. This kid has solved in 3 months what the bureau couldn’t solve in 2 years. Why aren’t we implementing this immediately? The debate that follows is heated. Some officers argue for following proper channels. Others insist that proper channels have failed and will continue to fail.

 Finally, Lockwood makes his decision. He announces that effective immediately, all submarines under his command will adjust their depth mechanism settings to compensate for the running depth error. He doesn’t have authority to modify the torpedoes themselves. That requires bureau approval, but he can order changes to how they’re set.

 It’s a brilliant bureaucratic endun. Low essentially tells his submarine force, “Set your torpedoes for 0 ft if you want them to run at 10 ft.” The Bureau of Ordinance can’t object because technically the torpedoes remain unmodified. And he promotes Casper to torpedo men’s mate first class on the spot. Before we continue with how Casper’s solution transformed the Pacific War, I want to take a moment to thank our sponsor, but more importantly to thank you.

 If you’re finding value in these deep dives into forgotten heroes of military history, please consider subscribing and hitting that notification bell. These stories deserve to be remembered and your support ensures we can keep bringing them to light. Now, let’s see what happened when American submarines finally had torpedoes that worked.

 The impact of Casper’s fix is immediate and dramatic. In June 1943, before widespread implementation of the depth setting adjustments, American submarines in the Pacific sink 22 Japanese merchant vessels totaling 96,000 tons. In July 1943, with most submarines using the new settings, that number jumps to 38 vessels totaling 157,000 tons.

 By August 1943, it’s 51 vessels totaling 224,000 tons. But there’s still a problem. Correcting the depth error helps torpedoes reach their targets, but many still fail to explode. The contact exploder remains unreliable. Casper isn’t finished. During August 1943, while Trigger is on patrol, Casper examines dude torpedoes that have been recovered during training.

 He focuses on the Mark 6 exploers contact mechanism. What he discovers is almost laughably simple. Chamber. When a torpedo strikes a target at a perpendicular angle, the deceleration is so sudden that the firing pin, instead of moving forward to strike the primer, actually gets jammed backward by inertia.

 It’s a basic physics problem that should have been caught during testing. But the bureau tested their exploders by dropping them from heights or firing them at oblique angles, never reproducing the conditions of a perpendicular hit. Casper calculates that adding a heavier spring and reducing the firing pin mass will solve the problem.

 This time, word spreads through unofficial channels. Submarine torpedo men across the Pacific Fleet begin making Casper’s modifications during refit periods. They don’t ask for permission. They don’t report it up the chain. They just do it, then watch as their hit rates and detonation rates soar. The stories that come back are remarkable.

 On October 10th, 1943, USS Wahoo under Commander Morton attacks a Japanese convoy in the Sea of Japan. Using Casper’s depth settings and exploder modifications, they fire nine torpedoes and achieve seven confirmed detonations, sinking three cargo ships and a tanker. Morton’s radio message to Pearl Harbor is succinct. The torpedoes work finally.

 On November 19th, 1943, USS Sculpin attacks a Japanese convoy. Six torpedoes fired, five hits, four confirmed sinks. The War Patrol report specifically notes, “Trpedoes performed flawlessly. depth settings and exploder modifications by TM1 Casper’s specifications. By December 1943, submarine commanders are requesting Casper by name.

 Admiral Lockwood establishes an unofficial torpedo workshop at Pearl Harbor, where Casper and a small team train other torpedo men in proper adjustment techniques. It’s all technically unauthorized. The Bureau of Ordinance still hasn’t approved any modifications, but Lockwood and his commanders have decided that winning the war matters more than bureaucratic approval.

 The Japanese notice. Intelligence reports intercepted and decoded through magic reveal growing concern among Japanese naval staff. A report from December 1943 notes, “American torpedo performance has improved dramatically. Previously unreliable weapons are now achieving high hit rates. Convoy losses are becoming unsustainable.

” A Japanese merchant marine captain captured after his ship was sunk by USS Tong on February 15th, 1944 provides testimony during interrogation. We were told American submarines were not a serious threat because their torpedoes didn’t work. That changed in the summer of 1943. Now when American submarines attack, we expect to die.

 The human cost savings are impossible to calculate precisely, but estimates suggest that improved torpedo performance shortened the Pacific war by at least 3 months and saved thousands of American lives. Japanese merchant tonnage sunk in 1944 totals 2.7 million tons, compared to just 1.5 million in 1943. By 1945, Japan’s merchant fleet is devastated and the home islands face starvation.

 USS Tang, now commanded by Richard Ocaine, and with Casper serving as chief torpedo man, becomes the most successful American submarine of World War II. On January 11th, 1944, Tang departs Pearl Harbor for its second war patrol. Over the next 8 months, across five patrols, Tang will sink 24 Japanese vessels totaling 93,824 tons, all using Casper’s torpedo modifications.

 Okain later writes in his patrol reports, “Every torpedo fired performed exactly as intended. Our success rate increased from approximately 20% in 1943 to over 85% in 1944. The difference was TM1, Casper’s modifications. The combat data is overwhelming. Submarines using Standard Bureau of Ordinance torpedoes in early 1943 achieved an average of 0.

3 confirmed sinks per torpedo fired. Submarines using Casper’s modifications in late 1943 and 1944 achieved 0.8 confirmed sinks per torpedo, nearly triple the effectiveness. One veteran’s testimony captures what this meant to the men who depended on these weapons. After the war, a submariner named Robert Palmer wrote to Casper, “I served on USS Sunfish from 1942 to 1945.

 In our first three patrols, we fired 47 torpedoes and sank two ships. We all thought we’d die without ever hurting the enemy.” Then in late 1943, something changed. Suddenly, our torpedoes worked. We fired. They hit. They exploded. We sank 11 ships in our last three patrols. We came home alive. Years later, I learned why.

Because of you, we came home. By wars end. By wars. Mother submarines using Casper’s modifications have sunk approximately 1,300 Japanese merchant vessels, totaling 5.3 million tons, effectively destroying Japan’s ability to sustain its war machine. The Pacific submarine campaign becomes one of the most successful naval strategies in military history.

 The Bureau of Ordinance finally officially acknowledges the torpedo problems in March 1944 and authorizes modifications. By then, submarine torpedo men have been using Casper’s fixes for 9 months. The bureau takes credit for solving the issues. Casper’s name appears nowhere in official reports. Before we conclude with what happened to the torpedo magician after the war, please take a moment to like this video and share it with anyone interested in military history.

 These stories of unrecognized heroes deserve wider recognition, and your engagement helps make that possible. Now, let’s find out what happened to John Casper. John Allan Casper survives the war. On October 25th, 1944, USS Tang is sunk by its own malfunctioning torpedo during a surface attack. But Casper isn’t aboard. He’d been reassigned to Pearl Harbor in August 1944 to run the torpedo workshop full-time, training incoming torpedo men.

 It’s a decision that saves his life. Only nine of Tang’s 87 crew members survive the sinking. After Japan’s surrender, Casper remains in the Navy for two more years, continuing to work on torpedo development. In 1947, he receives the Navy and Marine Corps medal for his contributions to submarine warfare. Nurse Dri Borf to reach though the citation is frustratingly vague mentioning exceptional technical service without detailing his actual achievements.

 Admiral Lockwood personally presents the medal and privately thanks Casper for saving thousands of American lives. Casper leaves the Navy in 1948 as a chief torpedo men’s mate and returns to Pennsylvania. He works as a machinist for the next 35 years, rarely discussing his wartime service. When researchers and historians eventually track him down in the 1970s and 1980s, seeking to document the Mark14 torpedo scandal, Casper is reluctant to claim credit.

 I just did what needed doing, he tells one interviewer in 1983. Plenty of other people would have figured it out if I hadn’t. The real heroes were the submarers who went out on patrol knowing their weapons might fail. They went anyway. The historical record slowly catches up to reality. Military historians researching the Pacific submarine campaign discover Casper’s name in war patrol reports and personal accounts from submarine commanders.

 His story appears in several books about submarine warfare, though usually as a footnote. Clay Blair’s comprehensive submarine history silent victory published in 1975 devotes several pages to Casper’s contributions noting the improvements to Mark1 14 torpedo performance in late 1943 are often attributed to Bureau of Ordinance modifications but contemporary documents reveal that an enlisted torpedo man solved the depth and exploder problems months before official acknowledgement bur Richard in his memoir Clear the bridge published in 1977 writes TM1 Casper was

the finest torpedo man I ever served with. His modifications turned the Mark1 14 from a liability into a weapon that could win the war. Every submarine commander in the Pacific owed him a debt. The technical legacy is substantial. Casper’s insight about tolerance stacking affects torpedo design procedures that remain in effect today.

Modern torpedo development includes comprehensive testing protocols that specifically check for the types of systematic errors Casper identified. The US Navy’s current Mark 48 torpedo, the submarine launched weapon used by American submarines since 1972, incorporates design principles that trace directly back to lessons learned from the Mark14 failure.

 Militarymies now teach the Mark14 torpedo scandal as a case study in the dangers of institutional arrogance and the value of listening to personnel at all levels of an organization. The case appears in curricula at the Naval Academy, the Naval War College, and military leadership programs worldwide. Casper passes away in 1994 at age 74, still living in his hometown of Altuna, Pennsylvania.

 His obituary in the local newspaper is brief, mentioning his Navy service, but not his specific contributions. Few attend his funeral beyond family and a handful of fellow veterans who know the truth. But among submariners, his legend endures. At the submarine memorial in Pearl Harbor, a plaque installed in 2003 commemorates the torpedo magician, acknowledging Casper by name and crediting him with saving countless American lives through innovative solutions to critical weapon system failures.

During submarine qualification ceremonies, instructors still tell his story as an example of how technical expertise and moral courage can change the course of history. The lesson of John Casper’s story extends far beyond World War II or even military history. It’s about the danger of dismissing insight based on credentials rather than merit.

 It’s about the courage required to challenge institutional authority when you know you’re right. It’s about the quiet heroes who solve critical problems and then return to obscurity, never seeking recognition, content with having done what needed doing. The Pacific War was won by thousands of unsung heroes, sailors, soldiers, marines, and airmen who did their jobs without expectation of glory.

 But among them, a 23-year-old torpedo man with a high school education stands out. Not because he sought fame or reward, but because he saw a problem, worked out the solution, and persisted until someone listened. In an era when we celebrate celebrity and chase recognition, Casper’s humility offers a counterpoint. Real heroism doesn’t always come with medals and monuments.

 Sometimes it’s a young enlisted man working alone in a torpedo room late at night, making careful measurements and doing mathematics by hand, driven only by the knowledge that getting it right will save lives. Every American submarine that patrols today’s oceans carries within it the legacy of that humble torpedo who refused to accept that failure was inevitable.

 Tourists Mas who had the courage to challenge experts who were wrong and who changed the course of history from the bottom rung of the military hierarchy. That’s true genius. That’s real heroism. And that’s why we remembered the torpedo magician.