Under Pressure. Richard Humphreys
In terms of propulsion, the boat was fitted with a pressurised water nuclear reactor (PWR1) capable of powering it for a number of years. However, patrols were limited in duration by the supplies and food for the crew. Furthermore, the power generated by the PWR1 also helped with the distillation of sea water. Pumped into the two distillation plants, sea water was recycled into potable water by separating the salt vapour produced when it was boiled. The two plants could quite easily reach an output of over 10,000 gallons a day after which, free from impurities, the water made its way to the fresh-water tanks. The water was subsequently used mainly for cooling electronic equipment such as sonar computers and navigational equipment, but was also essential for use with reactor services, batteries and domestic services such as cooking. If any was left after all this we may have got some laundry done and had a ‘shower’.
The nuclear reactor also created the electricity for the life-support systems on board, such as oxygen regeneration and the expulsion of unwanted gases like hydrogen, carbon dioxide and carbon monoxide, in addition to heating the air circulating round the boat and powering a number of other systems. The water deep under the world’s oceans is around 3°C, so heat needed to be applied to various parts of the boat to keep the temperature regulated. Though not back aft in the engineering spaces or the galley, I might add, where temperatures could easily reach 40°C.
The reactor compartment was lead-lined, sealed and constantly monitored by the >manoeuvring room engineers under the expert guidance of the nuclear chief of the watch, who in turn ultimately reported to the marine engineering officer (MEO), one of the most professionally qualified and important positions in the whole of the armed forces, period.
The submarine was split up into the different departments that made up the ship’s company. These were headed up by the senior officers – the XO, weapons engineering officer (WEO) and MEO – who in turn reported to God himself: the captain. The warfare team was headed up by the XO, and its main function was to take the boat to war: tracking and evading enemy craft, keeping the submarine safe by controlling all the other systems on board, while maintaining the boat in a state of readiness to launch its devastating nuclear weapons.
The warfare team used the sound room, where you’d find the elite sonar team hidden in the dark, headphones on, as they collated and evaluated contacts through the use of passive sonar. Contacts were either audible sounds picked up by the sonar team, or, if a long, long way off, visible sonar traces were detected on one of their many screens and sent through to the control room, where they were tracked. Sound waves in the sea are affected by many things, the two main ones being the temperature and density of sea water, coupled with the many background noises of marine life and merchant ships. The sonar operator’s job of accurately classifying contacts was a hellishly tricky one and required a great deal of experience.
Passive sonar is the non-active kind, meaning the sonar operator just listened and didn’t actively transmit. He was able to identify the source of the noise by listening to the sound of the propellers, or using invaluable intelligence from SSNs,† which recorded the signatures of Soviet ships and submarines. The sonar operators were able to instantly classify the vast majority of sounds, be they a merchant vessel, oil tanker, fishing vessel or Soviet submarine. As passive sonar doesn’t transmit sonically, its only major drawback is that it is extremely difficult to work out the range of a contact, as it’s not getting a ping back from the target. Silence was paramount to evade detection, so active sonar was only ever used in sea-training exercises.
The data from the sound room detailing the craft’s bearing and movement was then transferred to the control room, and from this information the tactical systems team (including myself) were able to work out firing solutions relating to the enemy’s course, speed and range, which the XO and the captain could use or modify, depending on their own calculations.
The warfare team also navigated the submarine while she was on the surface, controlled the submarine at periscope depth for satellite navigational fixes and positioned the submarine before firing torpedoes.
The weapons engineering department were responsible for maintaining and servicing the weapons on board, from nuclear missiles to the Tigerfish torpedoes, all of which were under the command of the WEO, who also pressed the trigger that would send the missile to its target. And yes, it was an actual trigger, coloured red just in case the WEO forgot what he was doing. In addition, they carried out electrical maintenance of the warfare team’s attack systems, sonar, electronic warfare, radio transmission and navigation, to keep them functioning at all times. This could either be routine maintenance or a complete strip and rebuild, which involved a riot of electrical leads spread out all over the floor awaiting reassembly. ‘Was it red first, then yellow?’ I’d often heard them say. I still don’t know the answer.
The Royal Navy newspaper Navy News visited the submarine to celebrate 21 years of the deterrent patrols in 1989. Here’s me posing for photos next to one of the torpedo tubes. (Navy News/Imperial War Museum)
When the boat was on patrol, there was a separate team of electrical engineers who kept vigil over the nuclear missiles in a cordoned-off area in the missile compartment. As well as loading the missiles onto the boat at the armaments depot, they packed the conventional torpedoes at the forward end of the boat and maintained them throughout patrol in the lower end of the fore ends, or ‘Bomb Shop’ as it was known. The team was supplemented by radio operators who looked after all the communications coming from the Command Centre at Northwood in north London, and who were based in the wireless room.
The engineers ensured that the nuclear weapons and torpedoes were safe through a system of round-the-clock, fail-safe checks. Their thoroughness and knowledge were vital, for at any time before a patrol began the men from the ministry in the form of the NWI‡ team could arrive for a snap visit and ask some pretty awkward questions, under the auspices of a weapons inspection. This could result in the WEO or any member of his team being relieved of their duties. This actually happened on Resolution, where a WEO was removed due to a perceived lack of knowledge on the day. At the time, we thought his had been a strange appointment, as the individual concerned had come from a Special Forces background and was thought to have been a serving member of the elite SBS. While that’s great in its own right, it hardly qualified him for a life under the sea in charge of nuclear weapons.
The marine engineering branch, led by the MEO, were tasked with looking after the boat’s propulsion, mechanical and life-support systems, and were split into two operating areas: aft (the back end of the submarine) and the control room, and everything forward of that. Aft of the missile compartment was their main focus, principally the manoeuvring room, for here were the controls that looked after the functioning of the reactor. Up to six people managed the detailed switches, pumps, hull valves and other bits of kit to make sure the reactor and its associated systems functioned correctly
The wrecking team manned the control room’s systems console, where they assisted in diving and surfacing the submarine, raising and lowering the periscopes, and monitoring oil pressures. They were also responsible for the diesel back-ups and maintaining the battery, should we ever have needed to use it in the event of the reactor being shut down. As well as maintaining their favourite bit of kit, the garbage and sewage systems, they also ran the laundry on 3 Deck, where clothes tended to come back as smelly as when they went in.
The final department was the supply branch, whose sole function was to ensure the boat had all the necessary food, drink, toilet rolls (essential, obviously. I never fancied using my hand to wipe my arse) and any other vital spares necessary for a ten-week patrol. This department was headed up by the supply officer and staffed by chefs, who did a superb job cooking three meals a day, plus snacks for months on end in the most testing of working conditions. Next time you’re in a restaurant, take a good look at the kitchens and all the chefs toiling in those cramped, hot and pressurised environments. Now, while they might be able to go for a fag break or some fresh air halfway through their shift, you can’t do that in a submarine. It’s torturously hot and stifling in the galley, with fire hazards aplenty … a