Every year on October 13, the U.S. Navy marks its official birthday, remembering the founding of the Continental Navy in 1775 and the generations of sailors who have carried its mission forward. Few exemplify that mission better than Rear Admiral Eugene Bennett “Lucky” Fluckey, a submariner whose fearless tactics, restless inventiveness, and lifelong devotion to service embody the best of the Navy’s past and its future.
A Young Eagle with Big Horizons
Fluckey was born in Washington, D.C., in 1913 and grew up with a natural curiosity and a taste for challenge. He became an Eagle Scout at a time when scouting still demanded serious outdoor grit. He graduated from high school at fifteen, spent a year at prep school, and entered the U.S. Naval Academy at seventeen. Early postings on surface ships and destroyers gave him conventional experience, but his move to the submarine service in 1938 changed everything. Submarines were still evolving from coastal defense curiosities into stealthy instruments of oceanic warfare, and Fluckey saw a field where quick thinking and engineering skill could have a decisive impact.
Commanding the USS Barb—and Rewriting the Submarine Playbook
By 1944, the Pacific War had entered a decisive phase. Fluckey took command of the submarine USS Barb, and within weeks began demonstrating a mix of audacity and cool judgment that startled even seasoned officers. He trained his crew to treat every patrol as a problem in creative tactics. They struck enemy shipping with torpedoes, but also fitted the Barb with deck-mounted rocket launchers to bombard shore installations—something virtually no other U.S. submarine attempted at the time.
His Medal of Honor patrol in early 1945 displayed that boldness. Fluckey took the Barb deep into Namkwan Harbor on China’s coast, threading mined shallows at night, and unleashed torpedoes that sank a huge Japanese ammunition ship and damaged several escorts. He then escaped through enemy nets and minefields at high speed, eluding pursuit in water so shallow that many thought a submarine couldn’t operate there. The feat blended daring with minute planning, and it crippled Japanese logistics in the region.
And then came the most improbable exploit: a shore raid on the Japanese home islands. Fluckey selected a small party of sailors—insisting on unmarried volunteers and, interestingly, favoring men with scouting backgrounds—to go ashore and plant explosives on a coastal railway. They destroyed a 16-car train without a single casualty. It was the only U.S. ground action on Japan’s home soil during the war. It was also the product of an officer who believed that no tactic was too unconventional if it could hasten victory and spare Allied lives.
The Measure of a Leader
Fluckey’s leadership was defined as much by care for his crew as by bold maneuvers. Despite dozens of aggressive actions, Barb never lost a man in combat. He attributed this to relentless drills, meticulous planning, and the principle that risk must be calculated, never reckless. He encouraged ingenuity at every level—if a machinist’s mate had an idea to improve a pump or a radar operator saw a better pattern for evading depth charges, Fluckey listened. His faith in his sailors’ abilities created a culture where everyone felt responsible for success.
This approach earned him not only the Medal of Honor but four Navy Crosses, one of the highest totals for any submariner. Yet he wore those decorations lightly, once saying that his true reward was seeing his crew come home alive and victorious.
Serving Beyond the War
Fluckey’s service to the Navy did not end with Japan’s surrender. He commanded submarine squadrons and held key staff posts, helping to integrate new technologies and shape Cold War undersea strategy. Even in retirement, he kept giving back. With his wife, Marjorie, he established and personally operated an orphanage in Portugal for several years in the 1970s, a quiet commitment to children who had nothing to do with war but often paid its price.
He also left a literary legacy. His book Thunder Below! Remains one of the most vivid first-person accounts of submarine warfare, rich with technical detail and human insight. It is required reading in many naval training programs, not because it glorifies combat but because it shows how preparation, innovation, and moral courage intersect in war.
Why He Belongs at the Center of the Navy’s Birthday
The Navy’s birthday is not simply a date on the calendar. It’s a reminder of the service’s unique ability to project power globally, deter aggression, and adapt to changing technology and doctrine. Fluckey’s career captures all of that.
He represented the Navy’s transition from traditional surface warfare to the stealth and strike flexibility of the submarine force. He showed how a single well-led submarine could disrupt enemy supply chains, gather intelligence, and even carry out precision raids ashore. His willingness to experiment with rocket attacks and small-unit landings foreshadowed modern naval special operations and the multi-domain mindset of today’s fleet.
Perhaps most importantly, he demonstrated that courage and compassion can coexist. Fluckey’s greatest victories were inseparable from his insistence on crew safety and his refusal to take pointless risks. That ethic still guides the Navy as it faces modern challenges—from cyber warfare to undersea deterrence—where safeguarding sailors while deterring adversaries is as critical as it was in 1945.
Remembering Fluckey Today
biEugene B. “Lucky” Fluckey died in 2007 at the age of ninety-three, but his influence lives on every time a U.S. submarine slips quietly beneath the waves. The Navy’s newest submarines carry weapons and sensors beyond anything imagined in World War II, yet their doctrine of stealth, surprise, and decisive action remains rooted in the kind of innovation Fluckey championed. When sailors recite the submarine force’s unofficial motto, “Run silent, run deep,” they are echoing principles he lived every patrol.Marking the Navy’s birthday with his story underscores what that anniversary really means. It’s not just a commemoration of founding documents or famous battles; it’s a salute to individuals who transformed the service through ingenuity and moral courage. Fluckey turned a steel tube into a precision instrument of strategy, proved that daring could be disciplined, and carried Navy values of honor, courage, and commitment far beyond the sea.