Richard Humphreys - Under Pressure

Names of Royal Navy personnel have been changed to protect privacy.

Mudlark

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First published by Mudlark 2019

FIRST EDITION

Text © Richard Humphreys 2019

Illustrations © Tom Hughes 2019

Cover layout design © HarperCollins Publishers

Cover illustration © Neil Gower

Photographs courtesy of the author except where indicated

A catalogue record of this book is available from the British Library

Richard Humphreys asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

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Source ISBN: 9780008313050

Ebook Edition © September 2019 ISBN: 9780008313081

Version: 2019-09-03

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Page numbers taken from the following print edition: ISBN 9780008313050

For my father, who loved life

V.J.C.H.

1928–2016

‘Submariners themselves were regarded as not quite the thing – smelt a bit, behaved not too well, drank too much. They were regarded as a sort of dirty habit in tins.’

Admiral Sir John Forster ‘Sandy’ Woodward, One Hundred Days , 1992

1 Cover

2 Title Page

3 Copyright

4 Note to Readers

5 Dedication

6 Epigraph

7 Contents

8 Author’s Note

9 Diagram of Polaris Submarine

10 Polaris Submarine Hierarchy

11 Glossary

12 Introduction

13 1 Beasting

14 2 HMS Neptune , Faslane

15 3 The Bomber

16 4 Alongside

17 5 Work-up

18 6 Coulport

19 7 Before the Off

20 8 Set Sail

21 9 The Dive

22 10 A Brief Tour

23 11 No Time

24 12 All the Time in the World

25 13 Downtime

26 14 Booze

27 15 Snadgens

28 16 Porn

29 17 Familygrams

30 18 Showtime

31 19 Under the Lights

32 20 Cut Off

33 21 Racked Out

34 22 Food, Glorious Food

35 23 The Day Job, the Night Job, Repeat

36 24 Letters from the Grave

37 25 Captain Is God

38 26 To Launch or Not to Launch

39 27 Homeward Bound

40 28 Off Crew

41 Acknowledgements

42 About the Publisher

Landmarks CoverFrontmatterStart of ContentBackmatter

List of Pages ii iii iv 1 2 3 4 6 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 737475767778798081 828384858687888990919293949596 979899100101102 103104105 106107108109110111112 113114115116117118 119120121122123124125126127128130131132133134135136137138139140141 142143144145146147148149150151152153154155156157158159160161162163 164165166167168169170 171172173 174175176177178 179180181 182183184185 186187188 189190191192 193194195196197198199200201202 203204205206207208209210211212213214215216217218219 220221222223224225226227228 229230231232233234235236237238239240241242 243244245246247248249250251252253254255256257 258259260261 262263264265266267268269270271 272273274275276277278 279280281282283284 285286287288289290291292293294295296 297298

I switched off the radio, made my way slowly up the stairs, shut the bathroom door and shed a tear. It was 16 November 2017, the day after the Argentinian submarine the ARA San Juan went missing in the South Atlantic off the coast of Argentina. At first, in those early days, it was unclear what had provoked the accident or what fate had befallen the crew, whether they might somehow still be alive beneath the waves. But then, with time, the cause of the tragedy became clear. An electrical malfunction had short-circuited the battery, which led to a complete loss of power for the old diesel-powered submarine. The San Juan had then sunk to the ocean depths, before finally imploding under the intense water pressure. The entire crew of 44, which included the first female submarine officer in the Argentine Navy, Eliana Krawczyk, had perished.

On hearing of the crew’s horrible fate, my thoughts switched back to my own period of service aboard a submarine and how blessed I’d been not to have suffered a similar fate. There are innumerable fine lines between life and death when operating in one of the most testing environments the world has to offer, where one wrong move can almost instantly bring chaos and disaster. After the San Juan tragedy, friends who had previously never seemed the slightest bit interested in my naval career started pumping me vigorously with questions about submarines, the dangers involved in underwater living, and exactly how I retained my sanity during the long weeks and months away at sea, cut off from the rest of the world. This book is a direct result of those conversations.

At the age of 18, in the mid-1980s, I became a member of an elite group who served aboard Britain’s nuclear deterrent, continuing my service for the following five years, while the Cold War was still hot and nuclear confrontation seemed scarily imaginable. In the 30 years since I left the Navy, submarine living and operating have remained fundamentally the same, although the creature comforts – including email, laptops, PlayStations and other products of the digital age – mean that some aspects are possibly easier now than they were during our stand-off with the Soviet Union.

I hope that what you are about to read will go a little way towards explaining the raw, real-life experience of what it’s like to spend prolonged periods of time on a submarine. I’ve tried not to focus on the military aspects, although by necessity some of these will come into the story, but have rather concentrated on how it feels to live day-to-day in this claustrophobic, man-made environment, describing the pressures it exerts on both one’s mind and body.

This is a book about life lived at the extremes, and there are few more extreme situations than living underwater in what is effectively a giant, elongated – if beautifully streamlined – steel tin can. I hope that it informs, shocks, excites and entertains, and that it moves you, the reader, to spare a thought for the brave men and women who at any given moment are patrolling the world’s waters, keeping their silent vigils.

The ID card issued to me on joining HMS Resolution . I’m going for a Mick Jones from the Clash vibe.