Dear Pete Hegseth: I'm Glad the Japanese Navy Spared My Grandfather

My grandfather Frank Gustaferro got the word at his uncle Carlo’s Bakery in Hoboken, New Jersey. His orders said that he was to report to the SS John Barry departing in a few days. The ship, secretly carrying millions of silver coins to support wartime operations in Saudi Arabia, was torpedoed by the German submarine U-859 on August 28, 1944. Two crewmen died in the blast. The rest, including my grandfather, ended up in the water — temporarily blinded from oil, injured, terrified, clinging to whatever wreckage they could find. They heard Japanese aircraft overhead as they floated in the Indian Ocean. My grandfather braced for the strafing run he assumed was coming. It never came.

Even in the brutal logic of total war, there were limits. A line existed — a line older than the Geneva Conven