The US Destroyer Japan Couldn’t Sink No Matter What
In November 1942, thirteen American ships, none larger than a heavy cruiser, knifed through the dark, restless Pacific. They steamed headlong into the jaws of a massive Japanese task force boasting at least two battleships. Their orders were clear and brutal: “Get the big ones.” At the forefront was USS Fletcher, a gleaming new destroyer, the first of what would become the war’s most iconic class. The moment they made contact, all hell broke loose. In the pitch-black night, chaos reigned. Friends and foes became a tangled blur. Trying to pierce the confusion, a Japanese light cruiser lit up its searchlights—only to be torn apart by a blistering burst of American fire, shredded within seconds. Madness exploded across the waters. Japanese destroyers snaked down the starboard side, unleashing a lethal fan of torpedoes. Beside Fletcher, USS Barton took a hit midship, erupted into flames, and vanished beneath the waves in moments. But the nightmare wasn’t over. With Fletcher in their sights, the Japanese launched another salvo of torpedoes. In the ghostly glow of gunfire and burning wrecks, Fletcher’s lookouts spotted the chilling streaks racing towards their starboard side. No time to shout—too late. They braced for impact. Then—nothing. No explosion, no fiery end. Just thin trails of bubbles. One torpedo passed forward, one aft, and three slid directly underneath the ship. The torpedoes had run mere inches too deep, skimming just below Fletcher’s keel. When the smoke cleared, USS Fletcher stood alone, untouched. American sailors, dazed and disbelieving, sought a reason. They eyed her hull number: 445. Adding the digits, they got 13. From that night, Fletcher was “Lucky 13,” a name she would continue to earn in World War 2’s grimmest battles… Credit to : Dark Seas