Name: Richard Howard BOLLINGER
Rank / Rating: S1-Seaman First Class
Service #: 653 94 42
DOB: Oct 25, 1925
From: Greenville, PA
Parents:
Went Aboard: October 8, 1943
Age When Ship Went Down: 19 years, 9 months, 5 days
Spouse:
Children:
Grandchildren:
Bio Submitted By: Nephew John R Machek
Date Posted:

Admin Note: Richard enlisted in the USN on 10 July 1943 in Pittsburgh, PA. He was assigned general duties at the Navy Personnel Distribution Center, Pleasanton, CA, known also as Camp Shoemaker, before going aboard Indianapolis. MEMORIES OF LAS RICHARD H BOLLINGER, S1 Many of my childhood memories reflect the impact of “Uncle Dick'' and his loss at sea when the USS Indianapolis was hit by Japanese torpedoes on July 30, 1945. Al though most people know me as "John" (a name I share with my grandfather, father and son), in our family I am "John Richard “The "Richard," of course, is a telling reminder of the love my parents had for my uncle.

Uncle Dick's mother died tragically in an accidental fall from the second story of their home in Greenville PA while washing windows - an unending task given the soot from coal furnaces and the steam engines from the nearby Bessemer and Lake Erie Railroad line on which his father was an engineer. Dick was only seven at the time. His older brother, Horace, was 14 and his sister, my mother Dorothy, was the oldest child at 21. By the time of his enlistment in the Navy at age 17, upon graduation from high school, his father had died of a stroke and his older sister, my mother, was his legal guardian. With much anguish, but with the support of her husband and brother, Horace, she signed his enlistment papers. During his first year in the Navy, I was born. His letters, which our family still treasures, express his excitement in becoming an uncle. I was already a year old when he came home on leave in May 1945, while the Indianapolis was undergoing repairs at Mare Island dry dock following the kamikaze attack during the battle for Okinawa. Our family photograph album holds our last pictures before the Navy's worst tragedy claimed his life. My favorite picture, taken on Memorial Day, is of Uncle Dick, in his sailor's uniform and myself. I am wearing his sailor's hat. We were visiting my father's family on Long Island (New York) when the dreaded telegram, dated August 13, 1945, arrived: I deeply regret to inform you that your brother, Richard Howard Bollinger Seaman 1/C USNR, is missing in action 30th July 1945 in the service of his country. Your great anxiety is appreciated and you will be furnished details when received. To prevent possible aid to our enemies do not divulge the name of his ship or station unless general circumstances are made public in new stories. Vice-Admiral Randall Jacobs The Chief of Naval Personnel Although I was just over one year old, the story of our trip from New York back to our home in Grove City PA has been told so many times that I seem actually to remember it. While my mother was in shock and tears, we threaded our way across New York City as jubilant crowds proclaimed victory - the war was over. For our family, and especially for my mother, the wrenching pain of grief had just begun and would last a lifetime. Over the next several days, the most recent letters to Uncle Dick would be returned bearing an official post office stamp, "Returned to Sender- Unclaimed," and with a large, black crayoned X marking out his name and address. On September 15 another telegram arrived: I deeply regret to inform you that a careful review of all facts available relating to the disappearance of your brother, Richard Howard Bollinger Seaman First Class USR, (sic) previously reported missing leads to the conclusion that there is no hope for his survival and that he lost his life as result of enemy action on 30 July 1945 while in the service of his country. Captain Charles McVay's letter arrived a few days later. Over the ensuing weeks other correspondence would arrive: the six months' death gratuity, back pay, official and personal letters of sympathy, as well as information about a death benefit from National Service Life Insurance. The latter would result in a monthly check for $18.40 that my mother received for the rest of her life and, on more than one Christmas as I was growing up, the December check enabled her and Dad to give me a very special Christmas gift. As the weeks rolled into months and the months into years, the intensity of my mother's grief lessened but she always carried it with her. In the 1950's there would occasionally be reports of sailors or soldiers being found on an isolated Pacific island. She would wonder out loud to her husband and growing son: "Do you suppose there is any chance he... " By the time I became a teenager, even that hope had faded. During most of my adult years, I assumed that Mother had reasonably resolved her grief. Occasionally, however, I would catch a conversation between her and Horace, her bachelor brother, and know that for both of them the memory of Uncle Dick was very much a part of their lives. It was not until the last couple of years of her life, however, as she approached 90 and as her own physical strength and mental powers diminished, that I realized just how much she still thought of him. Seemly out of the blue, she would say, “Poor Dick. He was swallowed by a whale.” As the 317 who survived, we too have our story to tell of the USS Indianapolis. John Richard Machek Closest living relative of Richard Howard Bollinger S1C USS Indianapolis - Still At Sea