Cold War Command: The Dramatic Story of a Nuclear Submariner

14 To the South Atlantic

Before returning to the United Kingdom in the summer of 1983, Conley had lobbied hard to be appointed in command of a Swiftsure-class SSN. This was on two accounts: he saw a modern boat as his best opportunity to be deployed on operations where he would be up against Russian submarines and where he could try out for himself the tactics he had developed; second, he would be able to move his family from Scotland to the more benign climate of Devon where the Swiftsures were based. However, his appointer had other plans and informed him that he would be posted in November to the most modern of the Valiant class, HMS Courageous, and when she paid off into refit in the summer of 1984, he would then take over Valiant itself. Both of these boats were based in Faslane and, needing a bigger house, the Conleys bought an old manse requiring much work, situated beside the loch in the village of Garelochead, some two miles from the base.

Whilst Conley was in America, HMS Trafalgar, first of a new class of SSNs, was commissioned in May 1983. Very much based upon the Swiftsure design, Trafalgar was slightly larger in overall size and benefited from both an improved internal layout and better sensors, but essentially the hull and the machinery were unchanged. Meanwhile, in the previous year the British government had made the decision to replace the four ageing Resolution-class SSBNs with the same number of much bigger submarines, which would be capable of deploying the longer range and more accurate Trident D5 missile. Accordingly, the design of the new 14,000-ton boats was well underway, and the long overdue modernisation of the Vickers shipyard which would build them had started, funded by the MoD.

At the same time the Naval Staff was seeking government agreement for the procurement of a new class of diesel submarine to replace the Oberons, most of which were reaching the twenty-year-old mark. The requirement called for a low-cost submarine, which in war would be deployed to the GIUK gaps, and in peacetime would fulfil an ASW training role. With increased use of automation, it was planned that the new class would have a significantly smaller complement than the Oberons, thus realising significant through-life cost savings. In the event the design chosen was the Vickers 2400 type (the number reflecting the size of its tonnage) and eventually four of these were built, named the Upholder class. Notably, Vickers had not in recent years undertaken the detailed design of a submarine, as that had been the exclusive province of the submarine designers at the MoD Bath.

The Oberons, meanwhile, were being updated with new sonars and fire-control equipment, replacing obsolescent fit much of which dated back to the 1950s. However, their hulls and machinery were becoming increasingly difficult to maintain.

The Trident-, Upholder- and Trafalgar-class build programmes were set to peak in the late 1980s and the Submarine Service continued to expand, with a total force level of thirty-four boats envisaged — four SSBNs, eighteen SSNs and twelve diesels. However, such a build-up was not without contention, with some senior officers within the Service arguing that a disproportionate amount of resources was being allocated to the Submarine Flotilla to the detriment of maintaining a balanced fleet.

The Trident programme required a significant extension of the Clyde submarine base to accommodate the much bigger submarines. New berthing, docking and training facilities, were built, altogether a challenging and expensive project in itself. Meanwhile, the shore infrastructure in HMS Dolphin would be modernised to take the Upholder class. Against a background of the continuing build-up and capability of the Russian Navy and its increasing number of vessels deployed overseas into such areas as the Mediterranean, the Submarine Service was most certainly the place to be for any ambitious officer or rating. However, all these programmes would push to the limit the specialist technical resources available within the United Kingdom to manage such wide-ranging equipment procurement and base modernisation projects.

Thanks to the intervention of the Falklands War, the surface fleet had survived the worst of the cuts planned in 1981 by the then Secretary of State for Defence, John Nott, and hulls which were destroyed in the war were being replaced. The operational success against Russian submarines of those Leander-class frigates fitted with towed acoustic arrays had spurred on the design and build of a new type of anti-submarine frigate, the Type 23 or Duke class, lead ship HMS Norfolk. These would have noise-reduction features which would make them ideal for ASW work using the acoustic towed array. It was envisaged that the class of sixteen vessels would be supported on station in the Norwegian Sea by specialist Royal Fleet Auxiliaries (RFA) supply ships, which would be fitted with their own Sea Wolf air defence systems.

Courageous had been completed at Vickers in 1971 and had been subsequently updated with the latest fire-control equipment and carried the sixty-five-mile range, very reliable, American-supplied Sub-Harpoon antiship missile. This was a step change from the fifty-year-old short-range Mark 8s, which at long last were being withdrawn from service. For both submarine and surface ship targets she also had the Tigerfish torpedo, which unfortunately still remained unreliable.

Capable of 26 knots dived and reasonably quiet, the Valiant class, however, suffered from very cramped engine room and machinery spaces, which were difficult to access and maintain. Furthermore, they had the vulnerability of a considerable amount of internal piping (even that providing toilet-flushing water) being subject to full external seawater pressure. In later, deeper-diving classes, for safety and cost reasons the amount of such piping was reduced to a minimum. The Valiants’ maximum safe operating depth was 750ft with a theoretical crush depth of about 1,300ft, compared to the well over 2,000ft of sea pressure the Swiftsures could sustain. Within these margins, there would be less than a minute to take recovery action in event of a catastrophic plane jam at depth and speed and, furthermore, there was not the benefit of a separate deep, emergency ballast tank blowing system as fitted to the Swiftsures.

Prior to taking over Courageous from Commander Rupert Best, whom coincidentally he had relieved in New London, Conley undertook a two-week commanding officers’ pre-joining course at sea, which was by chance onboard the same submarine. Joining her at Faslane, sailing was delayed by about twelve hours because of a steam leak in the engine room, the first of many he was to incur in his time in command of Courageous and Valiant. The training period centred upon a joint warfare exercise in the Southwest Approaches, during which he was informed that his father had died unexpectedly. However, like all seafarers, he had to contend with and contain such bad news, appreciating that there was no practical way of landing him other than in extreme emergency.

Rather than the usual two-hour handover, Conley used the period at sea to make sure he had a good appraisal of Courageous and her crew. First impressions were of a submarine in reasonably good mechanical condition, but a wardroom who were mentally very tired, having completed three South Atlantic deployments in the previous eighteen months. Nobody was looking forward to a fourth patrol in the South Atlantic planned for the following March: the Falklands War was long over and such deployments, about three months in length, were characterised by tedium and boredom, at a time when the Falklands War was fading in the national conscience. It, however, remained MoD policy for several years after the war to deploy an SSN and several escorts to Falklands waters.

After Christmas leave and completion of a maintenance period, Conley took Courageous to sea for tests, trials and Tigerfish torpedo re-certification. The period at sea revealed that both of the boat’s speed probes were defective and, therefore, the submarine was without an indication of speed through the water. An emergency docking was arranged to fix the defects, subject to Courageous immediately vacating the dock as soon as the repairs were complete. This proved to be a contentious issue, as the repairs were finished at 2200 on the evening of 28 February, and despite no pressing operational need to leave the dock overnight, the base organisation insisted the undocking proceed. Conley was not happy with this decision, as it meant bringing in additional crew overnight for the undocking evolution, with a twelve-week deployment only a few days away. Undocking at 0230, with the assistance of a tug for propulsion, he did a few circuits off the berths to check out the one probe under the waterline. This appeared to function correctly. Eventually getting alongside about 0400, allowing the non-duty crew to get home about 0500, Conley recalled that this was not a morale-building episode. However, such operational pressures, be they justified or otherwise, were considered the norm at the time.

Courageous sailed from Faslane on Monday, 4 March and started the 6,500-mile dived passage to the Falkland Islands to relieve the on-station Warspite. She was stored for twelve weeks, including over a hundred movies and hoards of Austrian smoked cheese and digestive biscuits, a favourite delicacy of the executive officer. Soon after diving both speed probes proved defective, but Conley pressed on, notwithstanding having no speed indication, having been persuaded by his weapons engineer officer that somehow repairs would be effected on reaching the Falklands.

Arriving off Port Stanley on 23 March after briefings from the Commander British Forces Falklands Islands (CBFFI) staff, Courageous undertook the first of three short patrols off the Argentine coastline, aimed at collecting general intelligence of air, maritime and military activity. This was achieved by cruising at periscope depth, just outside the twelve-mile territorial limit during daylight hours, which was the only time any military activity was detected. Two Spanish-speaking ‘spooks’ were embarked, who with their specialist equipment were able to tune into Argentine military radio circuits, particularly aircraft control frequencies. The first patrol’s prime objective was to collect intelligence of aircraft activities at the air force base of Rio Gallegos, situated on the bleak, desolate coastline of southern Patagonia.

Although the seabed around the Falklands Islands had been reasonably well surveyed, when off the Argentine coast Conley frequently relied upon Admiralty charts, many of which were derived from surveys which had taken place in the 1920s using very basic hand-deployed, lead-line sounding techniques. Therefore, there was always the risk of grounding on a hitherto undetected shoal or pinnacle of rock. Already one submarine, the diesel boat Onyx, had badly damaged its bow when, after landing and recovering special forces during the hostilities, it had hit an uncharted pinnacle off the Falklands Islands. However, in the event, the charts used proved remarkably accurate, notwithstanding the dated surveys upon which they were based.

On patrol Courageous’s torpedo tubes were loaded with three Tigerfish Mod 1 torpedoes and three anti-ship Sub-Harpoon missiles. The extant rules of engagement directed that any submarine detected within a 150-mile radius of the Falklands, the exclusion zone still in force, be attacked and destroyed, but two years after the end of the war Conley doubted whether the British government would have welcomed news of such an engagement. In the event, Argentine military activity was at a very low ebb, and the only submarine detected was during the third patrol, when the radar transmissions were intercepted from a German-built ‘209’-class boat, firmly alongside in its base in the city of Mar del Plata.

There was very limited combat air activity at Gallegos air base and it was clear from communications intercepts that the Argentine air force was bent on enjoying a good, long Easter weekend. Conley, therefore, decided, for the want of doing anything else, to follow the route of Sir Francis Drake on his voyage of exploration to the Pacific, swinging into the Bay of San Julian where the great English seafarer had made landfall after crossing the Atlantic. The civil airfield at the port of San Julian, the closest runway to the Falklands Islands, had been used during the war for combat operations and thus it was also considered worth checking it out for military activity, admittedly an extremely remote possibility.

Arriving at the bay in stormy weather as darkness fell, Conley was dismayed to sight a considerable number of Argentine fishing boats emerge unexpectedly round a headland and effectively block his exit out of the bay. His Perisher training came to the fore, as he carefully manoeuvred the submarine at periscope depth between the fishing boats, avoiding getting caught up in their nets, and made his way out to the open sea. The difficulty of this was increased by heavy seas frequently washing over the periscope and the myriad of confusing lights the fishing boats were displaying. It occurred to him that this had been a foolish venture, and that if he had got caught up in the nets and consequently dragged a fishing boat under, this most certainly would not have been welcome news at headquarters. On the other hand, such ventures during a tedious patrol kept him and his crew on their mettle and ready for the unexpected. The fishermen, of course, remained blissfully unaware that there had been a British nuclear submarine in their midst.

During the tedium of these patrols, food was an important relief for the crew, and the cooks did an outstanding job in producing high quality, varied dishes. Each evening bread and rolls were baked, and a real treat was to enjoy a fresh hot roll and butter early in the morning. Periodic meet-ups with surface ships enabled a top-up of some provisions, including fresh bread and vegetables. For recreation, the crew watched films, read books and there was the occasional quiz night or whole ship entertainment such as a horse-racing evening. A return to harbour lottery was also run around estimation of the exact time of arrival back in the Faslane base, and one lucky young crew member was to win over £1,000 on the boat’s return.

In between patrols anti-submarine exercises occurred with the on-station surface group consisting of four escorts and their RFA support ships. Most of the time the weather was inclement and on more than one occasion, at the end of a day’s exercises, observing through the periscope the surface ships being severely battered by an Antarctic storm, Conley and his crew were very glad of the stable, secure environs of an SSN as Courageous slipped down to the placid calm of the depths.

Conley was determined to make the best use of Courageous’s time on deployment and, appreciating that for much of the time the surface ships had little to do, he and his officers developed a number of evaluations to test the long-range sonar and radar detection equipment’s capability to track the ships and develop a fire-control solution which would support the successful targeting of the Harpoon anti-ship missiles.

Using accurate navigational data supplied by the ships, the reconstructed tracks were compared to the target solutions which had been developed on Courageous fire-control equipment. The tests indeed proved that the boat’s sensors could support the targeting of Harpoon out to fifty miles or more, but they fortuitously also identified a fire-control software defect which would have caused failure in specific missile targeting modes. The problem was signalled to headquarters and very quickly a software change was developed which rectified the defect and which was promptly issued flotilla-wide.

However, for Conley’s part, despite such achievements, on patrol time often weighed rather heavily. Frequently, there were limited command decisions to be made or actions undertaken, and he found that reading for four or five hours a day was the maximum he could undertake in the cramped conditions of his small cabin. Besides a daily movie, he would sometimes pass the time away by playing chess on a simple computer. He also had a stock of tapes of the BBC Archers programme which he religiously listened to at 7pm each evening if nothing else was happening.

But it was not all monotony. On one memorable sunny evening, a large number of dolphins and pilot whales, including their young, gambolled round the submarine for well over an hour. Conley ordered the boat down to a depth where the periscopes were well below the surface. This enabled the crew to take turns to have a periscope view of their underwater activity, to an accompaniment of a sonar loudspeaker broadcasting the many chirps and squeaks emitting from the mammals, who appeared highly delighted to have encountered a submarine.

There was also an incident which could have terminated the deployment. Whilst operating off the Falklands, the opportunity was taken occasionally to embark some of the headquarters army personnel for a day’s familiarisation at sea. Also when with the surface ships group, several personnel swaps took place. The mode of transfer was invariably by helicopter. Shortly after surfacing one morning in darkness to the south of the Falklands, in preparation for a helicopter personnel transfer to the frigate Penelope, with the submarine not yet in full buoyancy (achieved after surfacing by a blower passing low-pressure air into the ballast tanks), her bows dipped into an exceptionally big wave, causing a substantial flood of water to pour down the conning tower into the control room.

Having handed over command to the executive officer, Conley was in his cabin, getting ready for the transfer to spend a day in the frigate, when he was startled by a loud bang and vibration as the wave hit the conning tower. This was followed by the roar of several tons of water flooding into the submarine. On his dashing into the totally darkened control room, he sighted the officer in charge of the control room courageously saving the situation by climbing up through a torrent of icy water and pulling the lower conning tower hatch shut to stop the ingress. A lot of water was sloshing around the control room deck and flowing in the general direction of the wardroom. For a few exceedingly anxious and stomach-churning moments Conley could not establish contact with the surfacing OOW and lookout, and feared the worst — that they had been swept over the side where there would be absolutely no hope of recovery. It was thus a tremendous relief to hear the OOW testing his microphones when he had reached the bridge platform and completed the folding down of the steel flaps which faired in the top of the bridge when dived.

Fortunately, there was little damage to the submarine, other than a soaked wardroom carpet and a few officers’ clothing drawers which had got topped up with water. A visiting officer from Penelope did sterling work in helping bail out the wardroom.

Conley reflected afterwards that he should have been paying more attention to the ongoing surfacing procedure, and that in rough weather the executive officer (fully command qualified, having passed Perisher) should have made sure that the boat had gained plenty of buoyancy before ordering the opening of the conning tower upper hatch. Command at sea sometimes depended upon a degree of luck, and instead of facing the situation of having a badly damaged boat wallowing on the surface in a very hostile sea environment, he had got away with a damp wardroom carpet and a few sodden shirts and socks.

Midway through the deployment, Conley and some of the crew were lifted off by Chinook helicopter to spend a day in Port Stanley. From his vantage position in the Chinook’s cockpit, he was bemused on the final approach to Port Stanley airfield to see two Phantom fighters flying at speed overtake the helicopter from underneath. Air traffic control at the airfield was still rudimentary.

The town was still showing the ravages of the war, with the odd damaged building and lots of detritus everywhere. To Conley it reminded him of a very run-down Scottish village. However, the odd entrepreneur had moved in, and one venture was focused upon a ‘lamburger’ shop, which also supplied trail bikes for hire and, accordingly, was well supported by the local British forces who had little to do in their leisure time.

After receiving an operational briefing at the joint forces headquarters, he was taken to the governor’s residence to call upon Sir Rex Hunt. He found him to be a very pleasant, avuncular individual, highly interested in Courageous and her crew, and very willing to recount his personal experiences during the war.

Official duties over, Conley and several of his officers headed to Port Stanley golf course, the most southern in the world. They found it to be a very demanding eighteen-hole challenge of rudimentary tees, extremely coarse fairways pitted with shell holes, and very rough and ready greens. There were two unique local course rules: owing to the presence of mines, areas of the rough were out of bounds and balls could be lifted out of shell holes without penalty.

Towards the end of her deployment, Courageous secured for two days at a buoy in San Carlos water. This gave some of the crew the option to go ashore to the local army base at Kelly’s Garden, and the British supply tanker Eagle moored two miles away also provided very much welcomed hospitality. Conley and his officers took the opportunity to invite the San Carlos sheep station manager and other local civilians to lunch onboard. Sadly, they proved a somewhat uninspiring group, who showed little genuine appreciation for the lives which had been sacrificed to remove the Argentinians from their land.

Shortly after securing to the buoy, the sentry who was stationed on the after casing was joined by two penguins, which stolidly remained there for the next two days, enjoying titbits such as scones and jam from the crew. It was one of these penguins which featured in an iconic photograph, taking guard by the white ensign at sunset.

Courageous’s return home was delayed for several days by the relief submarine, Valiant, being diverted to intercept and track a Soviet submarine which had been detected in the United Kingdom’s Northwest Approaches. It was with some joy that the crew eventually received the information that she was on her way south and Courageous was released on 10 May to head north back to Faslane, gathering intelligence outside the Argentine naval base of Mar del Plata on the way. By this stage the very energetic and innovative weapon engineer officer, Lieutenant Commander (later Rear Admiral) Peter Davies, had achieved three working log speed probes, including a jury rig one mounted on the casing.

In early July, Courageous slipped from Faslane, paying-off pennant flying, base band playing and a large crowd of well-wishers gathered. She was heading on surface passage routed round the north of Scotland for a visit to the German port of Bremerhaven, prior to entering Devonport base for a long refit and nuclear core refuelling. Conley was again accursed by running into dense fog, which delayed the planned arrival off the Bremerhaven channel entrance into the River Weser. Having embarked the pilot, the latter advised he make maximum speed up the river to ensure the tidal window into the dock system was not missed. The fog had cleared, and making over 20 knots over the ground in a very busy, narrow shipping lane was both exhilarating and concerning to Conley. The German pilot, noting the commanding officer’s worried brow, suggested that he relax and enjoy the scenery. He was curtly reminded that if a mess was made of the pilotage resulting in a grounding, both of their pictures would feature in the worldwide press the following day. The pilot took the point and concentrated very hard on the remaining part of the passage.

A successful and enjoyable visit completed, the submarine’s departure was totally without incident, unlike the previous visit of Courageous to Bremerhaven, when she was involved in a minor collision with a tug on leaving the lock system. On this occasion the harbour authorities, with classic German efficiency, were taking no chances and an array of tugs awaited at the lock entrance, with a helicopter hovering overhead.

Arriving in Devonport, Conley reflected that Courageous had done him well in her last nine months of her second commission. There had been few serious problems with the plant or other equipment, and the crew had performed in a magnificent manner, displaying great professionalism and outstanding commitment. The South Atlantic deployment had not proved operationally challenging but there had been events and incidents which had added to his command experience and confidence. Well supported by his officers and crew, his short period in command had been much less demanding than his experience of Otter.

A few days after arrival in the dockyard Conley handed over to the executive officer, who gathered the entire ship’s company on the casing to bid him farewell. It was the end of his first SSN command and he very much looked forward to the new ventures and many difficulties ahead when he took over Valiant.