Operation Underworld: The Secret WW2 Alliance between The Navy and the Mafia

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On the morning of May 15th, 1942, Charles Lucky Luciano was led into an interrogation room at Great Meadow Prison in upstate New York.

As guards removed his shackles and walked out, he wondered what was going on.

The 45-year-old mafioso had been in jail for six years for running a prostitution ring.

The crime made it seem like Luciano was a common criminal, when in fact, he was an extraordinary one.

He'd moved to America from Sicily as a child.

As a teen, he went to work for New York City's Italian mafia and made his way up the ranks.

But Luciano soon felt the capos in charge were past their prime.

They were bogged down by infighting and foolishly refused to work with the city's other crime syndicates.

Luciano had a new vision, so after building alliances with other young men in the Jewish and Irish mobs, he had the mafia's old guard murdered.

By the 1930s, Luciano was running the famed Five Families and presided over a gambling, extortion, and drug trafficking empire.

But when he was arrested in 1936, he was sent to the maximum security Danamora prison for a sentence of at least 30 years.

Luciano still technically ran the mob from the inside, but visitors were rare.

He spent his time in a cold, lonely prison, reading, writing, and contemplating his new life.

He began to accept his fate and gave up on the hope of parole.

Until something strange happened.

A few days ago, he was transferred to Great Meadow Prison with no explanation.

He was given a nicer cell with running water.

Now he sat, unshackled, in an interrogation room, listening as footsteps approached the door.

Luciano felt a strange sense of hope.

Maybe his luck was finally turning around.

The door opened, and his face cracked into a smile.

Standing there was his lawyer, lawyer, Moses Polakov, and his best friend, Meyer Lansky.

Luciano hadn't seen Polakov in six years.

He rushed over to hug him, but Lansky stopped him.

This wasn't a social call, and they didn't have much time.

He explained that Luciano's transfer wasn't ordered by prison officials or even the district attorney.

It came from the U.S.

Navy.

Luciano was confused.

The world was at war.

It seemed the Navy had enough to worry about.

Lansky shook his head.

They were here because of the war.

The Navy wanted Luciano's help to save the United States.

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What if I told you that the crime of the century is happening right now?

From coast to coast, people are fleeing flames, wind, and water.

Nature is telling us, I can't take this anymore.

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From Balin Studios and Wondery, I'm Luke Lamana, and this is Redacted Declassified Mysteries, where each week we shine a light on the shadowy corners of espionage, covert operations, and misinformation to reveal the dark secrets our government's trying to hide.

This week's episode is called Operation Underworld, the secret World War II alliance between the Navy and the Mafia.

Apart from the devastating attack on Pearl Harbor in 1941, it may be easy to think of World War II as a conflict that happened overseas.

But in 1942, civilians and soldiers were terrified that Nazi Germany was going to bring the fight to American soil.

And New York City seemed like a prime target.

Specifically, the port of New York, a 240-mile stretch of waterways spanning from Long Island to New Jersey.

It was a key stronghold because troops and supply ships were launched from these docks to head to Europe and fight the Axis powers.

President Roosevelt had put the Navy in charge of protecting the port, but there were cracks in the lines of defense.

In early 1942, a ring of Nazi spies was discovered in the city.

They had been closely watching the activity around the port and relayed this intelligence back to Germany.

At the same time, Allied ships were being torpedoed close to American shores by German boats that seemed to be getting their supplies from the U.S.

it was clear the Navy didn't have a handle on exactly who was operating out of the hundreds of docks across the state.

The only force who might know was the group that unofficially ran the port, the Mafia.

So, a handful of naval intelligence officers made a risky play and asked the mob for help.

It was an alliance that would come to be known as Operation Underworld.

On the afternoon of February 9th, 1942, Lieutenant Commander Charles Haffenden raced out of the Naval Intelligence Office in Lower Manhattan and into a cab.

He told the driver to floor it.

He'd just gotten a terrifying phone call, and he had to get uptown to Pier 88 on the Hudson River.

The driver gunned the engine, but as they got closer, the traffic slowed to gridlock.

The wail of sirens pierced through the city's din.

Haffinden looked out the window to see thousands of pedestrians filling the streets, all headed for the pier.

He understood why.

Thick black smoke was rising from the Hudson River.

Halfenden got out of the cab and sprinted towards the fire.

It was not the easiest thing for a 47-year-old who, up until recently, had settled into a comfortable corporate job and lived a quiet life with his family in a six-bedroom house in Queens.

He'd served in the Navy when he was younger, and when World War II broke out, Haffenden was called back into duty.

He was now head of the investigative branch of the local Office of Naval Intelligence.

It was Haffenden's job to keep the city ports safe, but this afternoon, something had gone terribly wrong.

Haffenden pushed through the crowd, hoping things weren't as bad as they seemed.

But when he got to the pier, he realized the situation was even worse.

He saw a ship, the SS Normandy, burning before his eyes.

The Normandy was the second largest vessel in the world, over a thousand feet long, and it began its life as a French luxury cruiser in 1935.

This was a devastating blow to Haffenden and the Navy, because the Normandy was docked in the city for a reason.

Engineers were gutting its ballrooms and suites to transform it into a warship.

The Normandy would be fast enough to outrun German U-boat submarines, and with its capacity to carry 15,000 troops, it could turn the tide of the war and help America and its allies win.

But now, this crucial weapon was being consumed by an inferno.

The fire department finally arrived, while soldiers and sailors scrambled for buckets and hoses.

Haffenden was witnessing the start of an hours-long battle.

By nightfall, 1,500 firefighters had joined the effort.

A crowd of thousands, including civilians, the mayor, and Navy officials, watched in horror as America's hope for victory went up in flames.

The fire was finally put out near midnight, but the firemen had blasted so much water onto the ship that the Normandy keeled over and sank.

The aftermath was grim.

300 people were injured, and one man died.

The air, as far as Times Square, was dark and choked with soot.

Commander Haffenden walked away from the scene, numb and shell-shocked.

The Navy had just been crippled, and he couldn't help but wonder about the timing of the fire.

It was suspicious.

He had a creeping sense of dread that this might have been an act of enemy sabotage.

A few weeks later, Commander Haffenden stood at a sink in a bathroom across from his office at 90 Church Street in Manhattan.

He splashed water on his face.

It was late, but he willed himself to stay alert.

He had work to do.

The Office of Naval Intelligence had tasked him with assembling a team to investigate what caused the Normandy fire.

Early evidence indicated that it may have been an accident caused by sparks from an engineer's welding torch.

But even if the fire was accidental, there were other suspicious events that made Haffenden believe the Germans were responsible, and even worse, that they had a foothold in New York's ports.

He was determined to stop them.

Haffenden wanted justice, but he also wanted to prove himself.

Many officers doubted him.

They saw him as unfit for the large job of protecting the ports, a middle-aged man with little intelligence experience who hadn't served in years.

But Haffinden was confident, and he couldn't wait to show them they were wrong.

He strode back into his office where his boss, Captain Roscoe McFall, was hunched over piles of records, documents, and other evidence.

McFall was a 40-year veteran who had planned on retiring until the war started, and both he and Haffinden had been combing through stacks of paperwork related to other suspicious activity near the ports.

The Normandy fire was just the latest in a series of chilling incidents.

Over the last month, 31 American ships had been torpedoed by German U-boat submarines.

Many of these weren't off in the middle of the Atlantic or even military ships.

They were oil tankers or civilian merchant ships close enough to the east coast that regular Americans could watch them explode.

Some torpedo blasts were powerful enough to shatter windows on land, and the wreckage that floated up on the shore terrified beachgoers.

It seemed the war had arrived on their doorstep.

Even more chilling was the fact that some American soldiers had been taken hostage by U-boats near the east coast.

The ones who escaped reported that they'd seen American-made supplies on the subs, like sliced bread, which at the time you could only get in the U.S.

Haffenden and McFaul were pretty sure the Germans were getting supplies and intel from shadowy allies in American ports.

Supplies and intel that allowed them to stay there for longer and do more damage to American ships and maybe soon, American cities.

The Navy had authority over the port of New York, but there were thousands of dock workers, merchants, and sailors working there too.

People who might have insight into what was going on on the docks.

Hafadid realized these people were the key.

He could use them as a network of informants, but only if he could get get them to talk.

Two weeks later, on March 7th, 1942, Commander Haffinden and Captain McFall sat in an office across from Frank Hogan, the newly appointed New York County District Attorney.

Also present was Murray Gerfein, a young hotshot assistant DA who was an expert on crime at the waterfront.

Haffenden and McFall were there to present the results of their investigation into the ports, but they hadn't come up with much.

It was clear that the docks were a cesspool of corruption, bribery, and smuggling.

The same criminal element could be capable of helping the Germans, but the Navy had no leads or suspects because nobody would talk to them.

The dock workers were all tight-lipped union men, and the unions were controlled by the Italian and Irish mobs.

If the workers spoke to the police or the military, their mobster bosses might fire them or silence them permanently.

Haffenden said that he knew working against the mob was dangerous.

So it might be smarter to work with them.

The room went quiet.

Everyone knew this was risky territory, the kind of thing they'd have to keep quiet from their superior officers.

But they had to figure out if their ports were crawling with Nazi spies.

Haffenden asked Gerfine if he knew of anyone in the mob who might help them.

Almost immediately, Gerfine had a name for him, Sox Lanza.

Haffenden sat back.

Joseph Sox Lanza was a high-ranking member of the Luciano crime family who controlled the massive Fulton fish market, a market which may have been the source for the American supplies seen on the German ships.

Sox also ran the racket on fishing boats coming in and out of the port.

which could be the boats taking the supplies to the German U-boats.

Haffenden nodded to himself, very excited about the idea.

But Gerfine told him it might not be so easy to get Sox on board.

Sox was part of an extortion case that Gerfine's team was working on, and they were trying to put him in jail.

They couldn't drop it, even if they needed his help.

Gerfine felt like he'd have to broach the subject, carefully, with Sox's lawyer.

Haffenden told him to do whatever it took.

But then Captain McFall spoke up.

He was skeptical they could trust Sox, or any mobster.

They were criminals, after all.

Gerfine told him, these men were also Americans, and they loved their country.

It was where they built their empires, and the mob couldn't thrive if the U.S.

crumbled.

McFaul frowned.

It was still a hell of a gamble.

He mumbled the old saying: when you go to sleep with dogs, you get up with fleas.

But Haffenden would gladly take a few flea bites if it meant sniffing out traitors in his own city.

Later that month, at 11.30 p.m.

on March 26th, Murray Gerfine waited in the back of a parked cab at 103rd Street and Broadway.

He kept checking outside the window.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to get tonight's task over with, or skip it altogether.

Finally, he saw two men walk up to the corner, huddling in the blistering cold.

He told the cab driver to honk, then opened the door to wave them in.

One man was a lawyer.

The other was his client, Joseph Sox Lanza.

As they squeezed into the back, Gerfine felt his pulse quicken.

Sox weighed over 250 pounds, and he had massive hands, hands that had earned him his nickname.

He used them to sock anyone who gave him trouble.

Now Gerfine's mission was to convince this hardened criminal to work for him.

Gerfine had the driver take them to Riverside Park, where they sat on a bench.

He'd chosen the spot for two reasons.

The first was because it was far enough uptown that nobody they knew would spot them together.

Meeting a criminal he was currently prosecuting would look suspicious, and if the Luciano crime family saw Sox with a district attorney, they'd probably have him killed.

And second, Gerfine wanted to meet by President Ulysses S.

Grant's tomb.

He figured proximity to an American hero might inspire Sox to think patriotically.

Gerfine turned to Sox and repeated his request.

The Navy wanted an inn at the waterfront.

someone to help them seek out anyone who was helping the Germans.

Sox looked to his lawyer, who then asked what it would mean for his extortion case.

Gerfine shook his head.

They couldn't drop the case or strike a deal.

If Sox helped, it would go on his record, and the court might view him more favorably.

But Gerfine couldn't promise anything.

Still, he'd heard that Sox was a patriot.

He'd told the Navy that too.

He was hoping Sox would prove him right.

Sox turned to Gerfine.

Did the Navy think his men, Italians, were helping the Germans?

That they were traitors?

Gerfine hesitated.

The truth was, a lot of Italians on the waterfront were suspected.

Many of them were recent immigrants, and Italian dictator Mussolini had recently allied with Germany.

It wasn't hard to imagine that some might show loyalty to the old country.

And it didn't help that President Roosevelt had recently fanned the flames by stating that America's population of 600,000 non-naturalized Italians were, quote, enemy aliens.

Gerfine was honest.

He didn't know who was to to blame.

But if there was anyone who could find out and help America, it was Sox.

Sox stared out into the night.

Gerfine held his breath, waiting for his response.

If this didn't work out, he'd have to find someone else, and every second wasted was a chance for Germany to gain ground in the ports.

But then, Sox clenched his fists and turned back to Gerfine.

He said, I go along, 100%.

Gerfine said he'd put him in touch with Commander Haffenden as soon as possible.

As Sox and his lawyer walked off, Gerfine sat back, exhilarated.

He just made a deal with a mafia leader.

Operation Underworld was a go.

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A few months later, on April 16th, 1942, Charles Hoyt leaned over the side of a fishing boat and pulled a net full of live lobsters out of the water.

He wiped sweat from his brow.

Hoyt was a short, stocky man in his mid-50s, and he'd been lobster fishing off the shores of Long Island since 4 a.m.

So he was exhausted, physically and mentally.

A friend of his had gotten him a day of work on a trawler called the Margie Loo, but the boat's captain had taken an instant dislike to him.

At first, Captain William Duvall refused to take Hoyt on.

He said the U.S.

was at war with Germany, and with U-boats lurking in the Atlantic, he wasn't inclined to trust a stranger.

Even after Hoyt's fisherman friend told Duvall that Hoyt was harmless, Duvall still watched Hoyt like a hawk.

At one point, he even asked if he was German based on the way Hoyt talked.

The captain thought there was something off about Hoyt, and he was right.

Charles Hoyt wasn't a fisherman in need of a gig.

But he wasn't a Nazi spy either.

He was one of Commander Hoffenden's Operation Underworld agents, and he was here thanks to Sox Lanza.

Sox had used his sway with the dock workers' unions to get labor union cards for Hoffenden's agents.

Now they could get jobs at the ports and piers along the waterfront and hunt for traitors and saboteurs.

Hoyt was assigned to Long Island.

Though he was far from the big city hustle, the job was no less dangerous.

Earlier that month, Sax contacts had alerted Hoffenden that a German U-boat had been spotted off the shores of Long Island.

Maybe they were planning to attack the mainland.

Maybe they'd already infiltrated the community.

At the very least, Hoffenden suspected that the U-boat was getting resupplied by fishermen.

After Sachs made a few calls, Hoyt met with fishermen and business owners.

He made friends with some and investigated others.

And today, his task was to figure out if Captain Duvall was a German sympathizer or an ally Hoyt could bring into the fold.

But Hoyt couldn't find any evidence either way.

All he knew was Duval hated him.

Hoyt's muscles ached, he smelled like lobster water, and he felt like a failure.

Things got worse when the boat docked at the end of the day.

Hoyt trudged off and spotted a Coast Guard officer on the pier, one who knew him, and greeted Hoyt loudly by name.

Hoyt turned back to see Captain Duvall eyeing him suspiciously.

and he made moves to get out quickly.

That is, until he saw Duvall approach the Coast Guard officer.

Hoyt hung back, long enough to hear the two talking about him.

The man told Duvall that Hoyt worked in naval intelligence.

Hearing this, Duvall's face softened.

He said that he understood now.

Hoyt wasn't a fisherman.

He was part of an investigation.

Duval gave the officer a small smile and waved him off.

At that point, Hoyt knew he was in.

He had gained Duval's trust.

He was still bone-tired, but Hoyt now walked off with a spring in his step.

Although the day had started off rocky, he had made a valuable ally and was eager to report that to Haffenden.

He knew his commander could use the good news.

A few weeks later, in late April, Commander Haffenden and Sox Lanza met at the Hotel Astor in Manhattan.

Haffenden was using a suite there for Operation Underworld business instead of his regular office.

He didn't want his coworkers seeing him meet with Sox.

This project was top secret, and so he couldn't explain why he he was cozying up to mobsters.

These meetings were a necessary evil at first, but as they met more often, Haffenden and Sox developed a rapport.

Though they were on opposite sides of the law, they shared common goals, preventing enemies from infiltrating the docks and helping the Allies win the war.

Soon, Haffenden was taking him out for drinks and dinners, and since Sox ran the Fulton Fish Market, He eventually sent Haffenden deliveries of the finest seafood, including lobster that the commander would eat for breakfast.

Though the men worked well together, Operation Underworld itself wasn't going how Haffenden had hoped.

So today, he had to have a tough talk with Sox.

Haffinden began by thanking him for his work.

His agents now had eyes and ears in ports all along the east coast, from Maine to North Carolina.

It was a network that would have been impossible without Sox's help.

But Haffenden's agents still hadn't managed to capture any enemies or uncover German plots.

And this month alone, 49 Allied ships had been downed in the Atlantic, many of them just miles from the coast.

If the German U-boats were that close, they had to be getting help and supplies from the mainland.

Haffenden insisted they were missing something, and it likely had to do with two crucial hotspots they hadn't been able to infiltrate yet, the Brooklyn docks and the waterfront on Manhattan's west side.

Sox shook his head.

There was nothing he could do.

The Brooklyn docks were run by the Mangano crime family.

Since they knew Sox was under indictment by the DA, they wanted nothing to do with him.

They likely suspected he was in league with the police, which wasn't far from the truth.

As for the West Side, those docks were controlled by the Irish.

The Irish and Italian mobs were enemies, and the Irish had a personal vendetta against Sox,

both because he'd married an Irish woman and because he'd once murdered an Irish gang member.

Sox said he just didn't have the power to break down those walls for Haffinden.

So the commander asked, who did?

Sox's eyes narrowed, and Haffenden felt like he was being sized up.

Then, Sox said there was one man who could help, his boss, the head of the New York Mafia, one of the few mobsters who'd been able to work with rival groups, Charles Lucky Luciano.

Halfenden turned away to think.

Working with Sox was one thing.

He was a lower-level mafia lieutenant.

But Haffinden knew higher-ups at the Navy would be horrified at bringing in someone like Luciano.

He was one of the most notorious mafia leaders, a violent wildcard with a grudge against authority.

Even if Luciano agreed to work with the Navy, there was no telling if he'd still try to cut a deal with the Germans or betray the U.S.

If that happened and word got out, Haffinden could tank his own career and embarrass the entire U.S.

government.

Haffinden looked out the window at the city and the people he was desperate to protect.

He decided his reputation was important, but not as much as they were.

So he turned back and told Sax to contact Luciano.

Haffinden was willing to make a deal with the devil himself if it meant winning this war.

He just wondered if the devil would make a deal with him.

On May 15, 1942, Charles Lucky Luciano sat in a prison interrogation room.

His eyes were shut, and he was dead silent.

His friend Meyer Lansky and his lawyer, George Polakov, stood there anxiously.

They had just told him that the Navy wanted his help to find saboteurs and traitors along the docks, to use his influence to access parts of the underworld that Sox Lanza couldn't.

Luciano was stunned at the news, but after thinking it over, he opened his eyes and said, no.

Lansky and Polakov looked at each other, surprised.

They tried to change his mind.

Polokov told his client that if he helped the government, he'd be a hero.

It might improve his chances at an early release.

Luciano gritted his teeth and said, that was the problem.

There was a warrant out for his deportation.

Though he'd lived in the U.S.

since he was a kid, he'd never applied for citizenship.

So if he went free, he'd be sent back to Sicily.

which he couldn't let happen.

Italy was under the grip of the fascist dictator Benito Mussolini, who'd allied with Germany in the war.

If word got out that Luciano had helped the U.S., his return to Italy would also be his funeral.

Lansky said Luciano had a point, but he had a counterpoint.

If Luciano said yes, the Navy would tell the prison to be more lenient about visitors.

Luciano had mostly been isolated, except for occasional family visits.

and though he was still in charge of the mob, he was out of the loop on day-to-day operations.

If Luciano helped the Navy by taking meetings with his underlings, maybe he could use those sessions to take care of other business too, so he'd help the feds and reassert his leadership in the mob.

Luciano considered this, but he still had a demand.

If he helped, it had to be done in secret.

He didn't want his name listed anywhere.

A return to Italy felt inevitable.

and he didn't want to die for the government that had locked him up in the first place.

His lawyer Polikov assured him, nobody would ever know.

Luciano closed his eyes again, then told them to bring him Sox Lanza.

On the night of June 12, 1942, Coast Guard officer John Cullen walked across a beach on Long Island.

He was assigned to sandpounder duty, also known as patrolling the shore.

The young man was on edge.

He could hardly see the moon, and a thick fog surrounded him.

All he had for protection was a flashlight and a flare gun.

And soon Cullen realized he wasn't alone on the beach.

Down the shore he caught sight of a group of people.

He moved toward them and raised his flashlight, the beam cutting through the fog, revealing four men walking up from the water.

When Cullen asked who they were and what they were doing, one of them spoke up.

He had blonde hair and sounded American.

He said they were fishermen and their boat had washed ashore.

Cullen eyed the men.

Their story seemed to make sense, and he was about to let them go when he heard one of the men say something in German.

The blonde saw Cullen's alarm and quietly asked, Did he have parents?

When Cullen frowned, the man said, I wouldn't want to have to kill you.

Cullen started to panic.

Then the man reached into his pocket and pulled out a watt of cash, $300.

He asked Cullen if he could just forget about this incident.

Cullen took the money and nodded.

Sure.

And with that, the men snuck off into the night.

As soon as they were gone, Cullen broke into a run.

He wasn't going to keep this bribe, no matter how tempting it was.

Instead, he dashed back to show it to his commander.

He had to alert the Navy, because the enemy had just landed on America's shore.

The next day, Agent Charles Hoyt marched across the beach with Commander Haffinden.

Haffenden had been there since dawn after getting a call about Officer Cullen's eerie run-in with four so-called fishermen.

Hoyt looked at his commander.

He seemed tense.

Haffenden had been riding high ever since securing Lucky Luciano's aid, but this had brought him crashing down.

Now, Hoyt, Haffenden, and other investigators followed Cullen as he retraced his steps from the night before.

Cullen was behaving sheepishly, and Hoyt knew why.

Some officers were angry at Cullen for letting the Germans get away, but they soon realized that he was at least telling the truth.

The team found an empty rowboat.

Beside it, there was a pile of four German army uniforms, and there was something sticking out of the sand.

The team began to dig and uncovered four cases of explosives, enough to pull off multiple devastating attacks.

Cullen had been right about the men, but that didn't make the situation easier.

The Germans could be anywhere by now.

Operation Underworld had no guarantee that they didn't have another weapon stash, or that a local would help them resupply.

Hafenden pulled Hoyt aside.

He told him that the FBI would be coming in to launch a manhunt, but he trusted Hoyt more because he'd spent the last few months here building a network of allies.

Now, he had to use them to find those Germans.

Hoyt leapt into action.

He spent the next day working out of a Coast Guard tower and observing the area.

But when nothing came of it, he pursued a new line of investigation.

He later showed up at a train station where he finally got a lead.

The stationmaster told him that a day ago, a few men bought tickets for an early morning train.

The men said they were fishermen, but something about them didn't feel right.

Hoyt was sure these were the same German spies that Cullen had seen.

When he asked where the train was headed, the stationmaster replied, Penn Station.

Hoyt went pale.

The Germans weren't on Long Island anymore.

By now, they were already in the heart of New York City, and nobody knew what they were planning

in late June of 1942.

Commander Haffenden stood by the phone in his suite at the Hotel Astor, waiting.

His agents had pursued leads about the four German spies for weeks, but found nothing.

They had their explosives in custody, but Hafenden had no idea if the spies had access to other weapons.

He felt a pit of dread in his stomach.

He was pretty sure he was getting an ulcer.

The only thing that stopped his pacing was the phone ringing.

He picked it up.

It was the FBI.

As he listened, Haffinden almost fell into his chair.

He could hardly believe what he was hearing.

The agent said one of the Germans had turned himself in, the same man with blonde hair who had tried to bribe the Coast Guard officer.

The man's name was George Dosh, and he'd spent time in America during World War I.

He'd even served in the U.S.

military before going back to Germany.

Because of his familiarity with the States, he'd been sent back to lead this mission.

He and his partners were given forged American birth certificates, $200,000 in cash, and several cases of explosives.

The pit in Haffenden's stomach got deeper as he learned what else Dosh told the FBI.

The man also had plans to meet with another set of spies who had landed in Florida undetected.

They were all supposed to rendezvous in New York to carry out a series of terror attacks across the city, attacks that would cripple the ports and the Navy and likely kill many American citizens.

Halvenden's heart was racing.

He felt there was no way he could stop a series of attacks on this scale.

Some that could probably make the Normandy Blaze look like a campfire.

He told the FBI agent that he would quickly gather his team.

But the agent told Haffinden to stop worrying and listen to him.

The threat was already neutralized.

They'd arrested all of Dosh's conspirators, and they had Haffinden to thank.

As it turned out, Dosh had turned himself in because he knew his explosives had been found, and it would only be a matter of time before they tracked him down.

Haffenden may not have nabbed Dosh himself, but it seemed his operation scared the man enough to make him confess, which then led to the arrest of the others.

The FBI agent laughed.

He said Director J.

Edgar Hoover was going to say this was his agency's doing.

But everyone knew.

Haffinden and his scrappy team were the real reason New York wasn't already ablaze from a massive German terror attack.

Haffinden hung up.

His heart was still racing, but now from excitement, the FBI could have the glory and the press attention.

Haffinden and his agents would keep working in silence, using their underworld connections to make a difference.

Now that they had foiled this threat, there was no telling what they could do next, especially with the help of lucky Luciano.

In the fall of 1942, Haffinden waited in his suite at the Hotel Astor for a visitor, one he was apprehensive of meeting.

There was a quiet knock at the door, and Meyer Lansky walked in, followed by a short, intense-looking man named Johnny Cockkeye Dunn.

He was part of a ruthless Irish gang, the Dunn-McGraths.

His nickname came from his left eye, which always looked wide and angry.

And over the years, he'd been arrested on charges ranging from robbery to homicide.

Dunn's gang ruled the docks on Manhattan's west side.

Thanks to Lucky Luciano, he'd agreed to meet with naval intelligence.

Haffenden thought he would be doing most of the talking, but instead, he received an earful.

Dunn began ranting that the Navy was doing a terrible job with the peers.

Cargo was constantly mishandled, and security was a joke.

He glared and asked if Haffinden knew how easy it would be to slip a bomb on an Allied ship.

Haffenden stayed quiet.

He didn't like being called out by this lowlife, but he couldn't show his anger.

because he needed to build this relationship.

Hopefully, it would lead to results, just like Luciano's other introductions.

Over the last few months, the mobster's friends had helped the Navy take down a domestic terrorism ring that wanted to help the Axis to invade the U.S.

They even got him access to foreign consulates in New York, where his agents secured lists of Nazi sympathizers and found evidence of espionage against the U.S.

Dunn may have been a monster, but he was key to locking down the port.

So Haffinden told him he'd order his men to do better.

In fact, he'd love it if Dunn could give them tips on how to make the ports more secure.

Dunn smiled.

He'd be happy to.

He'd also recruit every bartender by the pier to listen in on drunk dock workers' conversations and report back.

Halfenden thanked him.

Then, a little quieter, he asked if Dunn could also help handle strikes.

He'd heard rumors about the Union striking, and they couldn't afford to have the work stop.

Not when there were supplies and troops they needed to get to Europe.

Dunn winked and said Haffenden wouldn't have to worry about that.

Halfenden felt a twinge of guilt.

He knew that Dunn's way of getting people to cooperate would not pass muster with the Navy, but he was also effective.

After his visitors left, Haffinden sat back in his chair to process everything that had happened over the last several months.

The docks felt secure for the first time in a long time.

Haffinden's team had recruited thousands of people to be their eyes and ears on the waterfront.

Under their watch, sabotage of the port of New York had been prevented, and no enemy plot had succeeded on U.S.

land.

Given that success, Haffinden thought it was time to take Operation Underworld overseas.

In the spring of 1943, the United States went to Lucky Luciano for help with one final request.

The military was planning an invasion of Sicily to establish a stronghold in Europe and fight the Axis on their turf.

Since Luciano had mafia contacts in his native country, they figured he would be the best man to help them build a network of informants there.

He'd again have to coordinate all of this from his prison cell, still with no guarantee that he would be set free when the war ended.

But even without that promise, Luciano was all too eager to assist once again.

He suggested a landing site for the Allies and connected the Navy with some of his Mafia contacts who had intimate knowledge of the island, as well as members of the Sicilian resistance.

In the end, the Navy's invasion was successful.

It was a thrilling mission for the Operation Underworld team, but for all of his ambition, Haffenden wasn't allowed to go.

Doctors told him he was too old and not fit enough.

So, he lost control of his own elite team when its focus moved overseas.

After the war, Haffinden had no choice but to leave the Navy and take a low-paying job as a salesman.

He died of a heart attack on Christmas in 1952.

Haffinden never received the acknowledgement he deserved during his lifetime, mostly because higher-ups insisted on keeping Operation Underworld a secret.

They had most of the documents destroyed to prevent the public from ever learning about the Navy's partnership with the Mafia.

No one would find out about Haffenden's bravery and his colorful allies until decades later.

Lucky Luciano fared a bit better.

To thank him for his patriotism, Haffinden wrote a letter in support of commuting his sentence.

When the war ended, Luciano was freed from prison after only serving 10 years, but he was also deported to Italy, where he would spend the rest of his days.

He remained deeply tied to the mafia in both New York and Italy.

Like Haffenden, Luciano died from a heart attack at the age of 65 while at an airport in Italy.

He just finished meeting with a movie producer who was interested in telling his story.

There's been a debate about how effective Operation Underworld was and whether or not Luciano's involvement was really that extensive.

But of course, maybe that's the result of forces trying to downplay the Navy's deals with criminals and killers.

The undeniable truth is there were no major attacks on the port of New York once the mafia got involved.

Without their help, it is entirely possible that the war could have ended differently.

Operation Underworld shows us how war can push us to build bridges where we never thought we could, and that being a criminal doesn't mean that someone can't also be a patriot.

Follow Redacted Declassified Mysteries, hosted by me, Luke Lamana, on the Wondery app or wherever you get your podcasts.

If you're looking to dive into more gripping stories from Balin Studios and Wondery, you can also listen to my other podcast, Wartime Stories, early and ad-free with Wondery Plus.

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From Balin Studios and Wondery, this is Redacted, Declassified Mysteries, hosted by me, Luke Lamana.

A quick note about our stories.

We do a lot of research, but some details and scenes are dramatized.

We used many different sources for our show, but we especially recommend the book Operation Underworld, How the Mafia and U.S.

Government Teamed Up to Win World War II by Matthew Black, the article Strange Bedfellows by Michael Whitehouse for the U.S.

Naval Institute, and the article Project Underworld, the U.S.

Navy Secret Pact with the Mafia by Gregory Paduto for the Warfare History Network.

This episode was written by Amin Osman.

Sound design by Andre Plus.

Our producers are Christopher B.

Dunn and John Reed.

Our associate producers are Inesse Rennie Kay and Molly Quinlan Artwick.

Fact-checking by Sheila Patterson.

For Balin Studios, our head of production is Zach Levitt.

Script editing by Scott Allen and Luke Baratz.

Our coordinating producer is Samantha Collins.

Production support by Avery Siegel.

Produced by me, Luke Lamana.

Executive producers are Mr.

Balin and Nick Witters.

For Wondery, our senior producers are Laura Donna Palavota, Dave Schilling, and Rachel Engelman.

Senior managing producer is Nick Bryan.

Managing producer is Olivia Fonte.

Executive producers are Aaron O'Flaherty and Marshall Louie.

For Wondery.