by James Jinks
It’s the morning of Sunday, 6 November 2011, exactly a week before the Remembrance Day service at the Cenotaph in Whitehall. The place: the Victoria Embankment alongside the River Thames between Waterloo Bridge and Blackfriars Bridge. The occasion: The Submariners’ Association Annual Memorial Service at the National Submarine War Memorial, a ceremony that since 1921 has taken place a week before Remembrance Sunday to avoid a clash for those who have to be, or wish to be, at both.
We scribble a diary of the sights, sounds and impressions:
09.43
Grey, chilly November morning, the Thames high on the autumn tide. Current and retired submariners with wives, children and grandchildren walking towards HMS President [training ship of First World War vintage, permanently moored] at the Blackfriars Bridge end of the Embankment, some carrying cardboard boxes containing wreaths.
President has bedecked herself in flags. A lone Royal Marine bugler appears on deck. Medals and Dolphins [the golden badge of the Submarine Service] shine against the dark-blue uniforms. Some wear ‘Deterrent Pins’ [reflecting service on Polaris or Trident patrols]. Sailors’ caps emblazoned with HM SUBMARINES.
400 yards upstream from President, on the great bend in the river between Westminster Bridge and Blackfriars Bridge with Waterloo Bridge in the middle, is the National Submarine War Memorial. City of London Police have diverted traffic to the eastbound lane, which now becomes two-way.
09.55
Full Band of the Royal Marines, Portsmouth, flows out onto the deck of HMS President.
10.00
Everyone forms up in the road. We chat to some of the legendary commanders from Cold War days, Admiral Lord Boyce, Vice Admiral Sir Tim McClement and Admiral Sir James Perowne. The Royal Marine Band strikes up a tune we don’t recognize. They look magnificent in their white helmets (which they used to call ‘pith pots’). They march impeccably at the head of the procession. A real lump in the throat moment.
We wait for an unannounced officer, who will take the parade, to sweep down the empty Embankment in his pennanted official car. It turns out to be COMOPS [Commander Operations], Rear Admiral Ian Corder (complete with sword). Suddenly, just before ‘The Last Post’ sounds, the traffic ceases. Very hushed apart from the rustling of leaves. A single seagull cries.
Numbers and names of the submarines lost in the Great War, the interwar years, the Second World War and post-1945 (four of them) are read out. Very moving. Wreaths are laid as the traffic resumes down one carriageway.
18 March 1904 HMS A1
16 February 1905 HMS A5
5 June 1905 HMS A8
16 October 1905 HMS A4
14 July 1909 HMS C11
2 February 1912 HMS A3
4 October 1912 HMS B2
8 June 1913 HMS E5
10 December 1913 HMS C14
16 January 1914 HMS A7
14 September 1914 AE1 (Australian)
18 October 1914 HMS E3
3 November 1914 HMS D5
25 November 1914 HMS D2
4 January 1915 HMS C31
18 January 1915 HMS E10
17 April 1915 HMS E15
30 April 1915 AE2 (Australian)
4 August 1915 HMS C33
19 August 1915 HMS E13
29 August 1915 HMS C29
4 September 1915 HMS E7
6 November 1915 HMS E20
26 December 1915 HMS E6
6 January 1916 HMS E17
19 January 1916 HMS H6
24 March 1916 HMS E24
2 June 1916 HMS E18
3 July 1916 HMS E26
15 July 1916 HMS H3
9 August 1916 HMS B10
15 August 1916 HMS E4
15 August 1916 HMS E41
22 August 1916 HMS E16
22 November 1916 HMS E30
30 November 1916 HMS E37
19 January 1917 HMS E36
28 January 1917 HMS K13
12 March 1917 HMS E49
17 March 1917 HMS A10
16 April 1917 HMS C16
17 July 1917 HMS C34
20 August 1917 HMS E47
16 September 1917 HMS G9
22 October 1917 HMS C32
18 November 1917 HMS K1
14 January 1918 HMS G8
18 January 1918 HMS H10
28 January 1918 HMS E14
31 January 1918 HMS K17
31 January 1918 HMS K4
1 February 1918 HMS E50
2 March 1918 HMS H5
12 March 1918 HMS D3
3 April 1918 HMS E1
3 April 1918 HMS E9
3 April 1918 HMS E19
4 April 1918 HMS E8
4 April 1918 HMS C26
5 April 1918 HMS C27
5 April 1918 HMS C35
23 April 1918 HMS C3
28 June 1918 HMS D6
27 July 1918 HMS E34
3 October 1918 HMS L10
6 October 1918 HMS C12
15 October 1918 HMS J6
1 November 1918 HMS G7
22 November 1918 HMS G11
4 June 1919 HMS L55
18 October 1919 HMS H41
20 January 1921 HMS K5
25 June 1921 HMS K15
23 March 1922 HMS H42
18 January 1923 HMS L9
10 January 1924 HMS L24
12 November 1925 HMS M1
9 August 1926 HMS H29
9 July 1929 HMS H47
9 June 1931 HMS Poseidon
26 January 1932 HMS M2
1 June 1939 HMS Thetis
10 September 1939 HMS Oxley
7 January 1940 HMS Undine
7 January 1940 HMS Seahorse
9 January 1940 HMS Starfish
10 April 1940 HMS Thistle
10 April 1940 HMS Tarpon
18 April 1940 HMS Sterlet
29 April 1940 HMS Unity
5 May 1940 HMS Seal
14 June 1940 HMS Odin
16 June 1940 HMS Grampus
16 June 1940 HMS Orpheus
6 July 1940 HMS Shark
9 July 1940 HMS Salmon
16 July 1940 HMS Phoenix
23 July 1940 HMS Narwhal
1 August 1940 HMS Oswald
2 August 1940 HMS Spearfish
3 August 1940 HMS Thames
10 October 1940 HMS Rainbow
15 October 1940 HMS Triad
18 October 1940 HMS H49
7 November 1940 HMS Swordfish
25 November 1940 HMS Regulus
6 December 1940 HMS Triton
11 February 1941 HMS Snapper
26 April 1941 HMS Usk
12 May 1941 HMS Undaunted
19 July 1941 HMS Umpire
20 July 1941 HMS Union
30 July 1941 HMS Cachalot
18 August 1941 HMS P32
20 August 1941 HMS P33
27 October 1941 HMS Tetrarch
6 December 1941 HMS Perseus
20 December 1941 HMS H31
31 December 1941 HMS Triumph
12 February 1942 HMS Tempest
23 February 1942 HMS P38
26 March 1942 HMS P39
1 April 1942 HMS P36
1 April 1942 HMS Pandora
14 April 1942 HMS Upholder
29 April 1942 HMS Urge
8 May 1942 HMS Olympus
21 June 1942 HMS P514
7 August 1942 HMS Thorn
17 September 1942 HMS Talisman
10 October 1942 HMS Unique
4 November 1942 X3
11 November 1942 HMS Unbeaten
25 November 1942 HMS Utmost
4 December 1942 HMS Traveller
12 December 1942 HMS P222
25 December 1942 HMS P48
2 January 1943 HMS P311
24 February 1943 HMS Vandal
27 February 1943 HMS Tigris
14 March 1943 HMS Thunderbolt
14 March 1943 HMS Turbulent
18 April 1943 HMS Regent
18 April 1943 HMS P61
5
21 April 1943 HMS Splendid
24 April 1943 HMS Sahib
30 May 1943 HMS Untamed
7 August 1943 HMS Parthian
14 August 1943 HMS Saracen
16 September 1943 X9
18 September 1943 X8
22 September 1943 X5
22 September 1943 X6
22 September 1943 X7
3 October 1943 X10
3 October 1943 HMS Usurper
10 October 1943 HMS Trooper
19 November 1943 HMS Simoom
7 February 1944 X22
16 March 1944 HMS Stonehenge
28 March 1944 HMS Syrtis
16 June 1944 HMS Sickle
22 November 1944 HMS Stratagem
19 January 1945 HMS Porpoise
6 March 1945 XE11
12 January 1950 HMS Truculent
16 April 1951 HMS Affray
16 June 1955 HMS Sidon
1 July 1971 HMS Artemis
11.05
Band of the Royal Marines strikes up ‘A life on the Ocean Wave’ and they all march back to President. The Band marches with absolute precision. The Submariners don’t (boats are not good places in which to teach drill). We look at the wreaths. The Band up the road is now switching to ‘Hearts of Oak’.
You look at the old veterans from the Second World War and wonder what all that time underwater and without natural light did to their bodies. The same applies to Cold War patrols and now. In a sense, when men (and now women) join the Submarine Service they enter into a contract to neglect their own bodies – no real exercise, little healthy food (they run out of fresh supplies after about three weeks, even on the big nuclear boats), poor air, especially in the diesel era (in the nuclear age, the air is cleaner – cleaner than the air we all breathe.) The Submarine Service, in the way that military people often have, possesses a touch of the family about it with everybody knowing each other, but perhaps here it is even more evident: as sustained shared experiences go there can be very few compared to what these men have been through.
The Royal Navy is clad, like blue marble, in its own history, which it polishes and extends anew in each generation. Though the Submarine Service is but a century old, it has its own rich varnishing of lore and legend. In part this is because of a common and sometimes menacing thread that runs through submarine life, from the tiny boats knocked out at Barrow in the first years of the twentieth century to the huge nuclear-missile-carrying Trident boats of the late twentieth and early twenty-first century. Adversaries come and go but one threat, a first order and constant anxiety, is perpetual – the hazard of the deep.
The swiftest and most vivid way to enter this strange and singular world is, fittingly, a total immersion into it – to be invited on board a submarine that will very soon be stretched as close to the limit as it can be, outside a clandestine special operation in peacetime or war itself. Such a boat was HMS Tireless in the spring of 2012 as it prepared off the west coast of Scotland for the so-called ‘Inshore Weekend’ of the course to test the would-be Commanding Officers of the next generation in ways that are themselves transmitters of the history, the tradition and the style of the Submarine Service.
1
The Franchise of the Deep: Perisher
At one time the course on which we were embarked had been called the Periscope School; hence the grimly humorous contraction ‘Perisher’.
Edward Young, 1952.1
For all the costs, just what does the Perisher course produce? Arguably the world’s finest quality submarine captains. Perisher is the Royal Navy’s commitment to making sure that the men who command their submarines are as good as the boats themselves.
Tom Clancy, author of The Hunt for Red October, 1993.2
What fascinates us [the French Navy] is the feeling that whatever you did before is at stake. Nothing counts before. Passing Perisher gives complete legitimacy. It’s a way of redistributing all the life cards for a very specific thing. Perisher partly reflects the British spirit – this willingness to have the right man for the job.
Commander Rémy Thomas, French Navy, 15 April 2012.3
There is a certain strain in the English, delicate, fastidious, self despising, which draws some of them to the Arabs, drives them to adopt their code of chivalry, courtesy, and cruelty, and thus obtain the franchise of the desert.
Alan Bennett, 1991.4
The desert is like the sea because it doesn’t care tuppence about you. You can be romantic about it. But the real thing is that it doesn’t have emotions. And it doesn’t think twice before killing you.
Sir Rodric Braithwaite, former Chairman of the Joint Intelligence Committee (1992–3), 30 August 2012.5
… our own private war over the weekend.
Commander Hywel (‘Griff’) Griffiths, CO, HMS Tireless, 14 April 2012.6
A PRIVATE WAR HAS BEEN ARRANGED
To command a Royal Navy submarine is to be given the franchise of the deep – responsibility in modern times for between 120 and 160 lives, with a replacement cost, if the submarine is lost or wrecked beyond repair, of between one and two billion pounds. To acquire this particular commission from the Queen you have to pass the five-month Submarine Command Course, universally known as the Perisher, in your late twenties or early thirties; thereafter a boat will usually (though not invariably) be yours in your late thirties or early forties.7 It is a task and a duty granted to very few.
Each Perisher course normally consists of a group of four to six aspiring Commanding Officers, usually Lieutenants or Lieutenant Commanders, supervised by an experienced Commanding Officer, known as Teacher. While no two candidates have the same mix of skills and characteristics, when looking back at the Submarine Service’s more successful COs it is possible to identify a number of common qualities. ‘All accepted responsibility eagerly and were self-confident,’ wrote a former Teacher, Martin Macpherson. ‘They were strong willed, tenacious and determined; they were brave; and they possessed great physical and mental stamina. They all cared passionately for their ships’ companies, had a strong sense of humour and many were surprisingly modest. Their professional experience and training had developed quick calculating brains, the ability to delegate, presence, and “a good periscope eye” ’ – the ability to react instinctively and not lose sight of the tactical picture unfolding on the surface.8
Since its inception in September 1917, the Perisher course has constantly evolved to take account of developments such as the shift towards greater concentration on Cold War operational roles; the greater emphasis on anti-submarine warfare; the introduction of nuclear submarines with better speed, mobility and endurance; the demise of the Second World War straight-running Mark 8 torpedo; the introduction of new weapon systems such as the Sub Harpoon and land attack Tomahawk Cruise Missile; the reduction in the number of Diesel Submarine Commands available for successful Perisher candidates; the shift to an all-nuclear submarine fleet; and the requirement that all Executive Officers (second-in-command) in nuclear submarines are Perisher qualified. The course has also had to provide newly qualified commanders with a multitude of fresh skills such as doctrinal and tactical knowledge and greater technical understanding of weapon and propulsion disciplines.9
While the format of the course has changed over the years and the size of the syllabus has steadily increased, the fundamentals of Perisher remain the same: in order to pass, a candidate must prove that he is able to operate a submarine both safely, effectively and aggressively, in a hostile environment, by completing a variety of tactical scenarios that cover the complete spectrum of submarine activity: everything from attacking a task force or other submarines, gathering intelligence, or landing members of the Royal Marines Special Boat Service (SBS). ‘There’s a living thread that runs through Perisher,’ says Andy Bower, another former Teacher. ‘The course is almost the beating heart of the UK Submarine Service. You’re a guardian of the flame.’ Every submarine officer (aside from engineers) aspires to command his own
nuclear submarine. He will spend the early years of his career working towards it. If he fails, he may never set foot on a Royal Navy submarine again. If he passes he has earned the right to join an exclusive club.
Our treatment of Perisher here is in three parts. First, there is Hennessy’s diary of the Inshore Weekend of the 2012 course which took place between 13 and 15 April in and around and largely under the Kilbrannan Sound, which separates the Kintyre peninsula, tipped at its southern end by the Mull of Kintyre, and the Isle of Arran. Secondly the last, most intense weekend of the next course, in October 2013, capped by the celebratory ‘Perisher Breakfast’ in Faslane on 20 October 2013. Finally there is a short history of Perisher as it stood at the end of the Second World War, as those first post-war submariners equipped themselves for an entirely new conflict, the Cold War, between East and West.
The point of entry to Commander Griffiths’s ‘private war’ was Faslane on Friday morning, 13 April 2012. Faslane is the citadel of the Submarine Service, north of Helensburgh towards the end of the Gareloch, a finger off the Firth of Clyde. Today it is bright and shining in the sun. This scene has scarcity value. Faslane excels at cloud and rain, and in the Royal Navy’s mental map of its bases Faslane is synonymous with a micro-climate that can go from sun to hail inside half an hour. Those whom Faslane has touched carry its cold and its damp in their bones.
We gather over lunch in HMS Neptune, the still new modern officers’ so-called ‘Super Mess’, run for the Navy by Babcock International, which took over a great deal of dockyard and naval support work in 2007. Our group consists of: Captain Paul Halton, Flag Officer Sea Training (FOST in the ubiquitous acronymia of the UK Armed Forces and Ministry of Defence), a former CO of the hunter-killer HMS Spartan and soon to be posted to Afghanistan; Commodore Steve Garrett, Commodore of the Faslane Flotilla, former CO of HMS Turbulent and most recently the naval Captain seconded to the Cabinet Office to handle its nuclear-weapons responsibilities (including ministerial briefing) and as part of the firing chain that links the Prime Minister to the Trident submarine on patrol in the North Atlantic; and Commander Ryan Ramsey, who works for Halton, recently CO of HMS Turbulent, featured in the Channel Five television documentary which followed Turbulent from Devonport to the Straits of Hormuz on the Navy’s regular Mediterranean/East of Suez deployment. All will be aboard Tireless tomorrow and overnight on Saturday/Sunday, in part to put still more pressure on the ‘Perishers’. Ramsey will take over the course as Teacher on next year’s Perisher. The other observers/guests are Commander Rémy Thomas, the equivalent of Teacher in the French Navy (the French are considering sending one submariner per year to Perisher, which would be quite a step given past difficulties experienced in arriving at entente nucléaire), Superintendent Thom McLoughlin from what was soon to become The Police Service of Scotland, who has a special interest in training, and Lieutenant Aidan Riley, a helicopter pilot from the Fleet Air Arm.
