Okay, so it’s 1942, at the height of World War II, and German U-boats are turning the Atlantic into a shooting gallery. Ships are exploding off the U.S. coast, sometimes so close to shore that people can smell the burning fuel from Long Island beaches. The Navy is losing vessels faster than it can replace them, and sabotage on the docks is a very real fear. So what does the U.S. Office of Naval Intelligence do? They turn to the one group that knows the waterfront better than anyone… the Mafia.
When the U.S. Navy Hired the Mafia to Save WWII: Project Underworld Exposed
Welcome to the wild, true story of Project Underworld — the top-secret alliance between the U.S. Navy and organized crime that helped turn the tide of the war. It’s equal parts patriotic necessity, moral compromise, and straight-up gangster movie plot. Today we’re diving into the declassified details (thanks to the long-buried 1954 Herlands Report) to show how star-spangled sailors and Sicilian strongmen became unlikely partners in saving the war effort. Buckle up, this one’s a doozy.
The Crisis on the Waterfront
By early 1942, the “Happy Time” for German Admiral Karl Dönitz was in full swing. U-boats had sunk over 100 Allied ships between February and May alone. In January, a tanker went down just 60 miles from Long Island. The Navy suspected the subs were being refueled and tipped off by saboteurs right here on American soil — maybe rogue fishermen, maybe Nazi spies hiding among dockworkers.
New York’s Third Naval District was the beating heart of the war machine. Everything from troops to tanks funneled through these ports. Shut them down, and Hitler wins. Captain Roscoe MacFall, the district’s chief intelligence officer, had a problem: his clean-cut agents stuck out like sore thumbs on the gritty waterfront. The docks were run by unions, muscle, and omertà — the Sicilian code of silence. Outsiders asking questions got “gaff beatings” and zero answers.
Then came the nightmare fuel on February 9: the French luxury liner Normandie (seized and renamed Lafayette), sitting at Pier 88 ready to carry 10,000 troops to Europe, mysteriously caught fire and capsized. Official story? A welder’s spark. MacFall and many others smelled Nazi sabotage. The Navy’s patience snapped. Ideals were one thing, winning the war was another.
Desperation Meets the Mob
Enter the unlikely heroes (or anti-heroes): the Italian-American Mafia. Mussolini had cracked down hard on the Sicilian mob back home — arrests, executions, bombings — which drove many mobsters to America and left them with a burning hatred for fascism. (One notable exception was Vito Genovese, who actually tried to cozy up to Il Duce, but he was the outlier.)
Navy intelligence knew the mob controlled the docks. On March 7, 1942, Captain MacFall met with New York DA Frank Hogan and Rackets Bureau chief Murray Gurfein. They greenlit Project Underworld. Day-to-day operations fell to Commander Charles Haffenden, who set up shop in a Times Square hotel suite and started recruiting a rogue’s gallery of Italian-American officers and, yes, actual mobsters.
First up: Joseph “Socks” Lanza, the 200-pound enforcer who ruled the Fulton Fish Market like a feudal lord. Lanza’s United Seafood Workers Union controlled ports from Maine to Florida. His rap sheet was longer than a submarine: homicide, extortion, you name it. The Feds called him “the most accomplished terrorist in labor racketeering.” Perfect.
Lanza’s lawyer got the call. A secret meeting followed. The pitch was simple: “Ships are sinking. U-boats are being resupplied. Help us find out how.” Lanza, facing his own legal troubles, saw an opportunity. Suddenly, Navy-sanctioned wiretaps, break-ins, and “persuasion” tactics were in play. Lanza and his crew grilled suppliers, planted informants on fishing boats, and even had undercover sailors radioing U-boat sightings under the guise of fishing reports.
But Lanza couldn’t crack Brooklyn’s docks, that turf belonged to Albert Anastasia, the notorious “High Lord Executioner” of the Luciano family. West Side piers were controlled by Irish union boss Joseph Ryan. There was only one man with the juice to unite the entire underworld: Lucky Luciano himself.
Lucky Luciano: The Man Who Ran the Rackets from Prison
Salvatore “Lucky” Luciano was serving 30–50 years in Dannemora prison for running a prostitution ring. From behind bars, he still pulled strings across New York’s rackets. Lanza made the introduction. Luciano agreed to help, for a price.
Navy officers visited him in prison. Luciano promised 2,000 pairs of eyes on the waterfront. In exchange? Charges quietly dropped, a cushy transfer to a nicer prison, and vague postwar favors. The Navy played ball. Luciano moved to Great Meadow prison (nicknamed the “country club”). His network went to work: prostitutes pumped sailors for intel, union guys watched for saboteurs, and Sicilian contacts in Italy fed the Navy critical intelligence ahead of the 1943 invasion of Sicily (Operation Husky).
The results were dramatic. Sabotage reports dropped. U-boat sightings increased. The waterfront stayed secure while the Allies pushed back.
The Dark Side: Thuggery, Precedent, and a Moral Mortgage
But it wasn’t all clean patriotism. Wiretaps captured Navy officers casually asking about “the Brooklyn Bridge thing” — code for roughing up union leader Harry Bridges. Goons hospitalized him. The Navy had essentially outsourced violence to organized crime.
The 1954 Herlands Report (declassified in 1977) laid it all out in over 3,000 pages of testimony. The Navy got what it needed, but the partnership planted seeds for future corruption. Ports remained riddled with rackets for decades. Project Underworld became the poster child for wartime realpolitik: sometimes you dance with the devil to beat a bigger one.
Why This Story Still Matters
Project Underworld wasn’t just a footnote in WWII history, it was a raw example of how power (and desperation) can rewrite rules. The Navy didn’t “win” the waterfront by playing nice; it won by playing smart (and dirty). The alliance helped protect shipping, gather intelligence, and support major invasions. Yet it also blurred the line between law enforcement and law-breaking in ways that echoed for generations.
Think about it: a government agency that once hunted the Mafia now hired them. It’s a reminder that war doesn’t just test soldiers, it tests principles. Noble necessity or the first step down a slippery slope? Maybe both.
Project Underworld proves that sometimes the most effective weapon in war isn’t a battleship or a bomber, but a well-placed phone call to the right (or wrong) guy.
If this tale of torpedoes, gangsters, and moral gray areas anchored your view of “pristine” wartime heroism, you’re not alone. What do you think, was it strategic genius or a dangerous precedent? Drop your thoughts in the comments below, share this with your history-loving friends and always stay curious about the shadows behind the official stories.
