The Last Stand of the Tin Can Sailors: The Extraordinary World War II Story of the U.S. Navy's Finest Hour

by James D. Hornfischer

He reminded his son of his own beginnings. Born in Italy, the senior Comet was raised under the worst of political systems. He had come to this country and managed to make a living and provide for his family. What this meant, he said, was that America was worth dying for. Death would be acceptable, so long as it was honorable. “An honorable man dies once,” he told Bud. “A coward dies a thousand times.”

I still can’t help but feel sorry for the poor boy. I know what he missed. He really missed the feeling of something you can’t put into words, a feeling of belonging.” * * *

radioed the Taffy 3 flagship with the bad news: “I can see the pagoda masts, and I see the biggest red meatball flag I ever saw flying on the biggest battleship I ever saw.”

Without electricity to move the rudder, the only way to turn the ship was via “Norwegian steam”: the strong backs and shoulders of the enlisted crew.

Ziggy Sprague had no trouble giving credit where it was due. In his official action report he wrote, “In summation, the failure of the enemy main body and encircling light forces to completely wipe out all vessels of this Task Unit can

be attributed to our successful smoke screen, our torpedo counterattack, continuous harassment of enemy by bomb, torpedo, and strafing air attacks, timely maneuvers, and the definite partiality of Almighty God.” Taking