BB-36

On this episode of Dave Does History, we set our sights on one of the toughest warships to ever sail under the American flag—the USS Nevada. Launched in 1914 and sunk, finally, in 1948, the Nevada wasn’t just a battleship. She was a brawler. She took a torpedo at Pearl Harbor, shook off six bombs, stood back up, and got back into the fight. She bombarded beaches from Normandy to Okinawa and even stared down two atomic bombs at Bikini Atoll. And when it came time to sink her, the Navy had to throw everything it had just to put her under. Today we’re telling her story, from her dramatic solo sortie during the Day of Infamy to her rediscovery on the ocean floor decades later. It’s a story of steel, fire, and defiance—and of a ship that simply refused to die. This is the saga of the USS Nevada.

They finally got her on July 31, 1948. After thirty-four years of service, seven battle stars, one torpedo, six bombs, two nuclear blasts, and thousands of miles under her keel, the USS Nevada met her end the only way she could—fighting. It took more than an atomic bomb to bring her down. It took a naval gunfire exercise, a failed sinking, a second round of shelling, and finally an aerial torpedo to send the old girl to the bottom off Hawaii. Even in death, she made the Navy work for it. She didn’t go quietly. That was never her style.

But to understand why it took so much to kill her, you’ve got to go back to her beginning. The USS Nevada was born in steel and fire at the Fore River Shipyard in Quincy, Massachusetts, and launched on July 11, 1914. She was a marvel for her time. The Navy called her a “super-dreadnought.” She ran on oil instead of coal. She had triple gun turrets, a compact silhouette, and revolutionary “all or nothing” armor, meaning vital areas were protected by thick armor while less important parts were left exposed. She was the first of the standard-type battleships that would define the U.S. Navy through two world wars. Even her number, BB-36, matched the state she was named for.

Commissioned in 1916, Nevada got her sea legs in the Atlantic, then sailed for Europe in 1918 to escort convoys in World War I. She missed the shooting war but got the honor of escorting President Wilson to the Paris Peace Conference. In the years between the wars, she steamed to Brazil, Australia, and South America, representing American naval power with a quiet confidence. In the 1920s, she was modernized—new turbines, new guns, new masts—and emerged stronger, sleeker, and ready for what was coming.

What was coming arrived just after dawn on December 7, 1941. While most of the Pacific Fleet still slept, Nevada stood at attention. Literally. The ship’s band was on the fantail playing the Star-Spangled Banner when the first wave of Japanese torpedo bombers roared in over Pearl Harbor. They strafed the band mid-anthem, but the music kept playing between bursts. The second boiler, lit by chance early that morning, gave her just enough steam to move. And move she did.

 

Nevada was the only battleship to get underway during the attack. As she backed out of her berth near the doomed Arizona, sailors on nearby ships cheered. Some leapt into the water and swam toward her, seeking a ship that was still in the fight. Her flag unfurled in the morning sun. It was a symbol. It was defiance.

But it also made her a target.

Japanese dive bombers spotted her in the channel and swarmed. The goal was clear—sink Nevada in the channel and bottle up Pearl Harbor. She was hit again and again. One torpedo. At least six bombs. Fires erupted. The bow began to sink. She was going down, and if she went down in the middle of the harbor, it would have been a disaster. Instead, she was deliberately grounded at Hospital Point. That decision, and the raw will of her crew, saved the harbor.

Salvage crews got her off the mud. On February 12, 1942, she floated again. By April, she was underway for Puget Sound, where she was rebuilt. By 1943, she was back in the war. The enemy probably didn’t expect to see her again. They should have known better.

She returned with a vengeance. Her 14-inch guns opened fire at Attu in the Aleutians. Then she was sent to Europe. On June 6, 1944, she fired the first naval salvos at Utah Beach during the D-Day invasion. A ship that had survived Pearl Harbor was now hammering Hitler’s Atlantic Wall. Then she helped with the invasion of Southern France. By 1945, she was back in the Pacific, throwing shells at Iwo Jima and Okinawa. She was hit again at Okinawa—a kamikaze, then an artillery shell—but Nevada kept fighting until June. She fought on the first day of the war, and she was still in it on the last.

 

When the war ended, Nevada had earned her rest, but the Navy wasn’t quite finished with her. She was too old for active duty. Too radioactive for peacetime service after what was next. The Navy painted her orange and used her as ground zero for two atomic bomb tests at Bikini Atoll in 1946. She survived both. Blasted, scorched, and glowing, but still afloat. She’d done her duty.

Decommissioned that August, she floated in limbo for two more years. Finally, she was towed off Hawaii for her last mission—naval target practice. Ships pounded her with gunfire. She didn’t sink. Planes dropped bombs. Still afloat. It took an aerial torpedo to finish what the Japanese, the Nazis, and two nukes couldn’t. Even then, she went down slow. That was July 31, 1948.

Seventy-two years later, her story wasn’t finished. In 2020, search teams found her 15,400 feet below the Pacific, about 65 miles southwest of Pearl Harbor. Her hull was still marked with her number “36” and the scars of war and radiation. A silent witness to history. A ship that wouldn’t quit.

Her legacy lives on. In 1986, a new USS Nevada SSBN-733 was launched, an Ohio-class ballistic missile submarine, one of the most powerful vessels on Earth. The name endures. So does the memory.

The USS Nevada was more than a battleship. She was a symbol. She was grit. She was American stubbornness and courage hammered into steel. She stood alone at Pearl Harbor. She came back swinging. And she went down only when she was good and ready.