'A story to be told'

At 87-years-old, Navy veteran Bob Olson still remembers fighting the Japanese from the U.S.S. Reno as though he was still aboard today.

"For every ship in the American Navy, there's a story to be told," the Morris resident said.

Even his wife of 65 years, Laurice, knows the stories well enough to help her husband with the details.

"It's 70 years this month," Laurice said about the anniversary of when her husband's ship was hit by a torpedo.

Olson enlisted for the service at 18 years old  in October 1942 and served for about four years during World War II.

"At the time, I was a Watertender," he said. "I left the Navy as a 2nd Class Watertender, now that would be called a boiler tech."

The U.S.S. Reno was a light anti-aircraft cruiser. It was the sister ship of U.S.S. Juneau, the ship known for the loss of the Sullivan Brothers - five brothers who all died when their ship was hit by a torpedo and exploded.

"After that, they never put brothers together," said Laurice.

Olson's ship, the U.S.S. Reno, was commissioned Dec. 28, 1943. He served on the ship from when it was commissioned to when it was decommissioned.

"Our main mission was to go alongside carriers and try to shoot down aircraft after us and our carriers," he said.

It was 11 o'clock at night on Nov. 3, 1944 when his ship was hit by Japanese torpedo while cruising in the Pacific Ocean. Olson was in his bunk.

"I never heard a bang like that before," he said. "I was in my bunk, and it threw me halfway up to the bunk above me."

Olson immediately began putting his clothes on, including his socks and shoes he was letting dry after they were soaked from sweat during his shift in the boiler room.

"I figured it was going to be my last day on Earth, but I'm going to be dressed," he said.

Olson's bunk was practically at the end of the ship, he said. There was a large hatch that lead to other areas of the ship and, with the hit, the hatch closed. Men were screaming they were trapped and were running bare foot in broken glass in a panic while Olson dressed.

Olson knew they were not trapped, he said, and someone came to open the hatch. He went topside and the boat was tilting due to the hole blown in the ship.

"We were taking in water at a terrible rate," he said. "We were flooded where all the explosives were. We were gradually losing power and the boiler room was filled with water."

As the men worked to keep their ship afloat, there was no mention of anyone leaving the ship until daybreak. By 7:30 a.m. the morning the torpedo hit, they were having funerals for those lost on the ship and giving them a burial by sea, Olson said.

About 50 people died shortly after the hit and more following at a later time.

For at least 24 hours, the men had nothing to eat or drink, and they worked for two days to keep the ship afloat, Olson said.

The captain of the U.S.S. Reno's entire fleet suggested it would be best to get the survivors off and sink the ship. But the U.S.S. Reno's captain called for assistance and sought to have the ship tugged out.

About 500 members of the crew were evacuated to destroyers, according to a Charleston Evening Post article written at the time. Olson was not one of these men.

"I never left my ship except for leave and liberty," he said.

Olson stayed with his ship for the 1,500 miles it was towed to Ulithi in the Caroline Islands. It took nine and a half days to get the ship to the harbor. While there, the ship received temporary repairs so it could then take itself to Charleston, S.C.

After being fully repaired in Charleston, the U.S.S. Reno was then used to bring servicemen home from France. While on a stop in England, Olson was supposed to get some leave time, but was needed on the ship, so his boss made him stay aboard.

He did not get any leave until they reached New York. Waiting for leave until New York changed his life forever.

"I met the love of my life during that second tour," said Olson.