by James Jinks
Despite the limits of the Submarine Service’s anti-submarine capabilities, many submariners felt that if war should break out, they would still retain a considerable advantage over the Soviet opposition. Two prevailing thoughts about the capabilities of the Russian Navy and the Russian submarine fleet dominated the immediate post-war period. The first was that anything the Russians had done well with submarines since the war was the result of German know-how acquired after VE Day in 1945. The second was that the Russians were not natural seamen and that because of this the submarine threat was, in fact, minimal. While a spring 1946 Joint Intelligence Committee report noted that Russia possessed about 210 submarines, including ten German ones; that ‘She takes a great interest in submarine warfare and in this particular arm of the Naval Service she has shown herself to be more proficient than in any other’; and that ‘German assistance and methods particularly in connection with prefabricated submarines, would enable her to construct a formidable Submarine Force in a comparatively short time’, the JIC also noted that Russian submariners ‘were still inexperienced in attack tactics’.134 An October 1946 Naval Intelligence assessment also noted that:
The Russians are far from being a nation of seamen, and this weakness is reflected in the operation of their submarines, however technically good these boats may be. Their attack technique is amateurish to a degree … The submarines themselves are probably capable of carrying heavy armament a long way with reliability, but are by no means certain of hitting the target when they get there.135
In the early 1950s, the chief advocate of this view was the Flag Officer Submarines, Rear Admiral George Fawkes, one of the few surviving British naval officers who had served in Russian submarines during the Second World War. In 1954 Fawkes warned that there was a ‘great danger that we can over-estimate the Russian submarine menace’ and explained that:
The Russian submarine threat as it was in 1941 was practically non-existent. They hadn’t a clue how to submarine … I would say that there were very few Russian naval officers who are seamen and even fewer who are submarine officers. The Russian submarines in the last war achieved absolutely nothing, and they had every opportunity to achieve a lot, both in the Black Sea and off the Norwegian coast. Now I am quite certain that they are not too content to let things remain like that, and I would be the last person in the world to say that you can dismiss the Russian submarine menace as meaning nothing. Our country has been nearly brought to its knees by the submarine in two world wars and therefore we must have a very healthy respect, as of course I have, for the submarine. [But] I should be very surprised if the Russian submarine service has got to anything like the stage of what we are apt to be led to believe. I would put it roughly like this – I am open to correction – the Russians could deploy in the event of war, by the end of this year, something like thirty submarines and maintain that number … How they would employ their submarines, I do not know, and I rather doubt that they know; they have no experience and they have only recently, in the last year or so, developed powerful radar stations by means of which they could control them … I do feel very strongly that we are apt to over-rate the Russian submarine menace – at the same time we must not under-estimate it.136
Not everyone agreed with Fawkes’s assessment, which was heavily influenced by his own wartime experiences. A Naval Intelligence officer, Lieutenant Commander McMillan, argued that:
The fact is that they [the Russians] have some three hundred and fifty submarines now; they built forty new ones last year; they are going to build over fifty this year, and over seventy next year. So just going on the numbers alone, the question of whether they are going to provide able submarine commanders, looms as an almost secondary one, because with those numbers they will soon gain experience … they are taking their peacetime very seriously, and they are determined to catch up on the lack of experience they had had in the past. I don’t think the Russians have ever been more earnest in anything in the Naval field than this. They are determined to catch up with the other great navies of the world, particularly in submarine matters.137
By 1953, the US and UK had drawn up an Emergency Joint US/UK Submarine War Plan that carved up the North Atlantic into British and American patrol zones. Initially, the areas north of latitude 67°N were confined to US submarines, while areas south of latitude 67°N, extending along the west coasts of Norway and Denmark as far as the north coast of Holland, including the Skagerrak and Kattegat, were allocated to the Royal Navy.138 Rear Admiral Sidney Raw, FOSM 1950–51, was not entirely thrilled at this prospect, complaining that:
It is evident that until the Russians use advanced bases outside their own territory this area of European waters South of 67°N gives no opportunity for maintaining patrols outside enemy submarine bases. Our own submarines will therefore be limited to transit area patrols where even the chances of Russian submarines passing through are limited.139
Whether the development of the war plan showed that transit-area patrols were more profitable than patrols off enemy bases was a matter of conjecture, but Raw argued that it was ‘clear that at the outset of the war a very big dividend may be reaped by having submarines on patrol outside the enemy submarine bases’ and that ‘to achieve the best A/S results, the earliest establishment of submarine patrols outside the enemy submarine base is essential. This can best be achieved by the employment of British-based submarines North of Latitude 67°N.’ Raw recognized that if enemy bases in the Kiel Canal, the Great Belt (the strait between the main Danish islands of Zealand and Funen, effectively dividing Denmark in two) and the Sound (the strait that separates Zealand from the southern Swedish province of Scania) were disregarded, ‘the only possible European enemy submarine bases at the outset of the war are to East of North Cape’.140
While it would have taken seventeen days for US submarines from the Atlantic coast to reach the North Cape of Norway, it only took nine days for Royal Navy submarines based on the Clyde to reach the same areas. Raw argued that:
whatever the length of warning time available before hostilities break out there is therefore a better chance of covering these bases by submarines starting from the United Kingdom rather than from the U.S.A., particularly if there is a long period of strained relations when it would be most difficult to maintain such a patrol with submarines based in the U.S.A.
The Americans accepted these arguments, and, after detailed discussions with the US Submarine Command, the Submarine War Plan was amended to allow Royal Navy submarines to patrol outside enemy submarine bases north of latitude 67°N at the earliest possible date on the outbreak of war, until the Americans arrived in greater numbers.141 How effective this would have been is questionable. Raw himself ‘admitted that even if our submarines can reach North Cape before hostilities break out the Russian submarines are likely to have left for patrol, but there is still a good possibility of picking up the second flight or even the first flight returning from patrol’.142
If war had occurred, the 2nd, 3rd and 5th Submarine Flotillas would have concentrated at Rothesay in the west of Scotland at anchorages two miles apart in anticipation of a nuclear attack, while the arriving US submarines would have operated from a base further up the Clyde, at Rosneath. The early Submarine War Plan envisioned the 3rd Submarine Flotilla, led by the depot ship HMS Montclare, and the 2nd Submarine Squadron with its depot ship, HMS Maidstone, arriving in Rothesay between ten and twenty days after the start of hostilities. The submarines comprising the 5th Submarine Squadron would have been split between the 2nd and 3rd Flotillas. If the war lasted more than three months, a further depot ship, HMS Adamant, would also have berthed in the Clyde and formed a new 6th Submarine Squadron, primarily concerned with training. A second war plan existed, which would have seen Royal Navy submarines conducting an offensive minelaying campaign in the Baltic. But the Admiralty expected Denmark to be ‘overrun in the early days of a war in the immediate future’, and ‘the Allied minesweeping effort and the air cover necessary to enable the
minesweepers to operate is unlikely to be available to provide reasonable protection for the passage of our submarines through the Baltic entrances’.
In 1954, the Submarine Service’s war plans were integrated with a NATO submarine war plan, known as the Eastern Atlantic Submarine War Plan. It consisted of some 25 British, 23 US and 2 Dutch submarines declared to the Supreme Allied Commander Atlantic (SACLANT).143 The Flag Officer Submarines was appointed as the NATO Commander Submarine Force, Eastern Atlantic (COMSUBEASTLANT) and worked closely with his American counterpart, the Commander Submarine Force, Atlantic (COMSUBLANT).144 The Submarine Service also participated in NATO exercises. In 1952 the Submarine Service took part in Exercise ‘Mainbrace’, a major NATO exercise involving 203 ships from nine navies participating in operations off Norway and Jutland. Seventeen submarines took part in the exercise, playing the part of Russian submarines attacking surface ships in the North Sea. In some of the first reported encounters of the exercise, HMS Taciturn, under the command of Lieutenant Commander J. Mitchell, acting as a submerged Russian submarine, claimed to have torpedoed the aircraft carriers HMS Eagle, HMS Illustrious, USS Midway and USS Franklin D. Roosevelt between the Isle of Arran and Ailsa Craig while they were deploying from the Clyde.145 The Blue fleet disputed this outcome and argued that an RAF aircraft had attacked and crippled Taciturn before it was able to carry out its attack.
While the Submarine Service was finding its way and preparing for its new Cold War role, the early 1950s were characterized by a series of disasters that reminded submariners of the dangers of the sea.
‘THE ADMIRALTY REGRETS …’
On 12 January 1950, the ‘T’ class submarine HMS Truculent was returning to Sheerness after completing a series of sea trials following a refit at Chatham dockyard. At 1900, as the submarine moved through the Thames Estuary on the surface, the Swedish oil tanker Divina was sighted in the channel. Truculent’s Officer of the Watch mistakenly decided that the Divina was stationary and as Truculent was unable to pass to the starboard side without running aground, the order was given to turn to port, across the channel and the Divina’s bows. This was a costly mistake. According to sound seamanship and the ‘Rules of the Road’ Truculent should either have held its course, turned to starboard or stopped. The two vessels eventually collided and remained locked together for a few seconds. As a result of the collision a large split was torn in Truculent’s pressure hull. Immediately before the collision the Captain had ordered all those on the bridge to go to their stations below, but only the lookout was able to obey the order before the remaining officers and ratings on the bridge were swept into the water. The Captain had ordered all watertight doors closed, but there was insufficient time to establish a watertight boundary throughout the entire submarine before the collision occurred. As a result the whole forward part of the submarine and the Control Room were flooded and Truculent sank rapidly, bow down. In the Control Room, the First Lieutenant, realizing what was happening ordered the crew to move aft. As 50–60 men crammed into the Engine Room and after-ends of the submarine, water started pouring into the Engine Room through the snort induction system. The men were trapped.146
In April 1946, the Admiralty had initiated a new review of escape policy and equipment. Under the Chairmanship of Rear Admiral P. A. Ruck-Keene, the Committee studied every known escape from submarines of all nations in peace and war and made a number of recommendations, including the production of a special immersion suit for each man fitted with a pressure-tight light that would activate automatically when it came into contact with sea water; the development of an indicator buoy with sufficient buoyancy to carry a radio transmitter and reflectors; a means of operating air purification apparatus in the event of a failure of electrical power; and improved training through the construction of a special 100-foot escape tank. By the beginning of 1951, although significant progress had been made, not all of the Committee’s extensive recommendations had been implemented.
As the most senior officer trapped inside the submarine, Truculent’s First Lieutenant decided to escape immediately. Propeller noises were heard overhead and with 50–60 men concentrated in the after compartments, air conditions were likely to deteriorate quickly. Preparations for an immediate escape were made in both compartments. In the engine room, it took 40–45 minutes to flood the compartment and ten sets of the Davis Submerged Escape Apparatus were issued to the weak or non-swimmers. Truculent carried one set of Escape Apparatus for each person on board with a small margin of spares, which were unavailable on account of the flooding of the forward compartments. Opening the escape hatch when the pressure inside the submarine is being equalized with that outside is a difficult task. In the after compartment, the First Lieutenant, in attempting to speed up the slow flooding of the compartment, went up into the escape trunk on two occasions to vent it. On the third occasion, anticipating that he might be blown out in the air bubble when he opened the hatch, he ordered a rating to hold his legs. In spite of this, on opening the hatch, the First Lieutenant was blown to the surface. The remaining men in the compartment waited until the rush of air from the escape tower had ceased, and the water had risen sufficiently to form a seal around the escape trunk. Although no one took charge after the First Lieutenant was ejected there was no panic and everyone left in an orderly manner.
The Master of the Divina did not immediately realize that his ship had sunk a submarine. The first signal to the shore was made forty-five minutes after the collision by a Dutch vessel, Almdyk, but it only said that the Almdyk was rescuing men, not that a submarine had sunk. The Divina picked up ten men; all the remaining survivors who succeeded in reaching the surface alive were swept out to sea by the strong ebb tide. Areas to which survivors might have been carried were searched throughout the night by ships and at daylight by naval aircraft. (To make matters worse, the crew of an Avro Lancaster were killed while taking off from RAF Kinloss en route to RAF Leuchars to pick up a party of Royal Navy divers who had been instructed to assist in the rescue operation.) Of the 79 men on board Truculent, 64 were lost. Of the 15 survivors, 5 had been swept off the bridge before Truculent disappeared beneath the waves; the remaining 10 escaped from the submarine. Post mortem examinations on recovered bodies revealed that many of the men had died from decompression injury and drowning while escaping from the submarine. As a result of the disaster a special navigational light for use on all surfaced submarines, known as the Truculent light, was introduced on all submarines, and to speed up the implementation of the recommendations of the Ruck-Keene Committee, a Standing Committee on Submarine Escape (SCOSE) was set up to monitor progress.147 It held its first meeting in October 1951, a few months after news of another tragedy spread throughout not only the Submarine Service, but also the country, and the world.
On 16 April 1951, HMS Affray, one of the Royal Navy’s ‘A’ class submarines, departed for a week-long practice war patrol, codenamed Exercise ‘Training Spring’, in the English Channel. Affray, under the command of the 28-year-old Lieutenant John Blackburn, was carrying seventy-five officers and ratings, as well as four Royal Marines from the Royal Marine amphibious school at Eastney. At 2100 that evening, Blackburn sent a signal back to HMS Dolphin in Gosport: ‘Diving at 2115 in position 5010N, 0145W for Exercise Training Spring.’ When Affray failed to make radio contact at 1000 the next morning, Flag Officer Submarines, Rear Admiral Sidney Raw, issued the emergency submarine incident alert ‘Subsmash One’, calling on all available ships and aircraft to begin searching for a missing submarine. By noon, the search had failed to locate Affray and Raw upgraded the alert to ‘Subsmash Two’. Every Royal Navy ship and submarine available at the time put to sea, alongside US and French warships, and scoured the English Channel, looking and listening for the missing submarine, ‘a dismal and depressing task’, recalled Joel Blamey, one of the men involved in the search, ‘the weather was poor, and once darkness set in there was little hope of sighting anything. Dangerous … as there were so many ships milling
around close by.’148
At one point hopes were raised when a tapping sound, thought to be the crew banging on Affray’s hull, was detected in an area where the submarine was thought to have been operating. A rescue flotilla closed on the position and dropped explosive signals into the water to let Affray’s crew know that it was safe to exit the submarine using the onboard Escape Apparatus. But, as they waited, no one came to the surface. The Admiralty later concluded that the tapping sound was actually the noise of other ships searching for Affray. On Thursday, 19 April, sixty-nine hours after Affray had dived, the Admiralty cancelled the Subsmash order and called off the search for survivors. Given the limited underwater endurance of the ‘A’ class submarines, no one could have survived beyond this point as the air inside the submarine would have run out. A scaled-down search continued for another two months until June, when the submarine was discovered in 300 feet of water, thirty-seven miles from its reported diving position. When divers examined the wreck they discovered that Affray’s snort mast had broken free and was lying on the seabed, leaving a 14-inch-diameter hole above the engine room exposed to the sea. The mast was later raised and sent to one of the Navy’s metallurgical laboratories for tests. The results revealed that metal fatigue had caused it to break free of Affray. But how this had happened was the subject of intense debate. Some suspected the mast had been knocked off by a passing ship, or by the rescue ship Reclaim during subsequent investigations. Others could not understand why the snort snapped when weather conditions were ideal, and not when the mast was subject to more severe stresses such as when the submarine was rolling heavily during previous exercises.
