At sea with the Black Knight
I had the rare privilege of spending time on board HMAS Rankin (SSG-78), an Australian Collins Class Submarine. My co-author Tom Allibone and I joined the ‘Boat’ in Sydney and arrived in Garden Island off Western Australia 12 days later. The Rankin was returning from a 6 month overseas deployment, the longest so far of any Collins submarines. In that time the boat travelled just on 32’000 kilometres, and the galley prepared over 22’000 individual meals.
We were guests of the Royal Australian Navy Submarine Force Element Group (SMFEG) and were invited to photograph and interview the crew for their new photographic coffee table book ‘Beneath Southern Seas — Celebrating the Australian submariner’.
It is midnight, and we have just surfaced off Rottnest Island following a normal steep ascent, after twelve days underwater. Under the dull red glow of the night illumination, I look up through the recently opened fin (Conning Tower) hatch and see the stars as if for the first time, accompanied by the odd drip of cold salt water on my face. It was kind of surreal knowing the surface of the ocean was still above me and the bulk of the boat is still beneath the surface.
As is usual on a boat, all actions and activities are in hushed tones. There are no loud, sudden noises, nothing metal gets dropped, nobody slams doors, nobody yells or talks loudly. Rubber sole shoes cushion any sound. The sophisticated listening devices that modern helicopters and aircraft use will pick up the sound of a fork clattering on metal. Nothing underwater will emit a sound like it, they will know you are a submarine and the hunt will be on. Fortunately for the Collins boats, they are probably now among the most stealthy on the planet. This has been proved in the many on-going international exercises the Navy conduct every year. It is quite often the case that the Collins boats have to either up periscope, or send off a flare to let their war game attackers know where they are. Over the last few days we have been part of an airborne exercise, and the aircraft have not been able to find us.
Everyone wears black overalls, and at night all white lights are replaced by dull red soft illumination. Everything on this journey was different, your normal daily patterns of work and relaxation have no place here at all but it is surprising how quickly you adjust to new methods of working.
Walking along the passageway even before I got to the hatch, I could hear the sea above us. The fin acted like a huge amplifier. I felt my heart racing at the sound, both of us did not expect to be so excited about hearing the sea and smelling the salt air! This level of excitement permeated the boat, as after 6 months at sea, everyone was eager to get off and see their loved ones. You could feel the rise of eagerness as we got closer to home port.
After the Navigator and the night watchman had gone up top, I and Tom joined them on the bridge. The view at night from 5 meters above the surface was simply astounding. The lights of Kwinana and Fremantle in the distance were the clearest and brightest I had ever seen. We had forgotten how much we had got used to views in terms of metres only. We could barely see the jet black shape of the boat against the equally black ocean, and only the faint white spray of the bow wave and the distant illuminated refineries reflecting off the sleek hull put the situation in perspective. The lights of the coast illuminated our four faces against the darkness.
A few hours ago we were at periscope depth (PD) and rolling from side to side considerably in the swell, but 17 metres above up on the surface, there was a howling gale. Through the periscope I could see huge white capped swells (about a sea state 6 on the Beaufort Scale). We all pitied any surface sailors who were sailing in this. Tom was holding his tape recorder like a pendulum and it swung 90 degrees left and right. It was not an unpleasant movement though, as we were not pitching but nevertheless my laptop kept sliding across the wardroom table. You would imagine that a machine this size, rolling to this extent, would be a cacophony of sound, but the boat is well and truly rigged for these sort of conditions. As the submarine is circular in cross section, she will feel any change on the surface and roll even in mild swells.
The ‘ride’ at depth is similar to being on an airliner, and apart from the hiss of the air conditioner, there is very little if any indication that you are underwater. So the time at PD in rough seas is always a tad uncomfortable, and even hardened crew members breath a sigh of relief when we dive again and head into the depths, the realm of the submariner. The initial dive itself though is quite pronounced as the angle of descent is steep, the same for the ascent. Unlike the wartime movies where you heard rivets popping and creaking as the boat dived deep, these boats are silent, every join is welded so nothing moves at depth. Anything that does ‘give’ is attached by large rubber shock absorbers so no sound is transmitted from the hull into the water giving away our position. Again unlike wartime movies where you see a submarine slowly descending horizontally, these boats really nose over and dive.
The Chef had an interesting point of view on this, during his interview “…. our biggest challenge is trying to keep quiet! We exist in a multi-million dollar weapon designed to evade detection from anyone, and here we are banging and clattering around in an all metal galley, so we have to be as conscious as the job will allow, to keep sound levels to a minimum. Motion is another problem. This sub has no keel, which as a result allows it to roll from side to side without resistance, making life interesting when serving soup”.
The Collins submarines, being diesel electric, have to ‘Snort’ with their snorkel to charge their batteries. This also vents foul air and exhaust gasses, plus brings fresh air in. In rough seas, this process is accompanied by a very noticeable pressure difference on your ears as the waves wash over the snorkel. The snorkel automatically closes the moment water enters it, so your ears pop as this happens. It became a common sight to see everyone doing a forced jaw stretch or yawn in the middle of a conversation at every pop to equalise the pressure difference.
Seeing every compartment has a digital readout telling you depth, you can always tell how far down we are, plus the screen offers other goodies like the days menus. The meals were fantastic. The two chefs (one for each watch) prepare 4 meals a day, with three choices at each sitting, plus desert and drinks. The selections were outstanding, around midnight, as the second watch was starting, wafts of tempting aromas would permeate the boat, and you could wander down to the galley and find fresh hot cross buns, fresh rolls, or hot Spring rolls with dipping sauce.
We had the chance to alternate between the Junior Sailors mess, the Senior Sailors mess and the Wardroom, so we could experience the entire boats eating and recreational environments. I casually mentioned one day as Tom and I were helping to wash the dishes that my culinary specialty was of the Mexican variety, the gauntlet was laid down and promptly entrusted to plan and cook a days menu for the full crew of nearly 60. Starting around 0900 we made Chimichangas, Fajitas and salsa. Clean plates at the end of each sitting indicated that we had the approval of the crew. After a couple of days, the small galley, like doorways etc, started to increase in size. We were getting used to the boat. Showers were a bit tricky. You are not exerting very much physical energy so you only need to shower about once a week. The air conditioning is nice and cold, and this time of the year you don’t sweat. About 20 seconds to get wet, turn the shower off, soap up, back on for 20 seconds to wash, then towel down. Pretty neat feeling though when you do shower.
Of the many situations that as a photographer I have had the privilege to experience, these 12 days in a 77.8 metre long metal tube have got to be the most profound. This was confinement but with a difference, and it was entirely pleasurable. We had been totally cut off from the outside world, beneath the sea, without any form of outside communications. Fantastic! We did not miss email, or the phone or door bell ringing once, we did not miss Australian Idol, we did not miss cars and the rush of daily life one bit. We had got used to life on board the boat quite quickly, because we both had so much work to do we never really thought too much about life outside.
We were allocated berths in the Weapons Storage Area, the largest space on the boat, but we had to share this with 6 large torpedoes stowed securely overhead. Sitting up quickly was definitely not recommended, these ‘fish’ do not bend. Once we got over how to slide into the racks with a sideways movement avoiding the torpedoes, it was easy and very comfortable.
The Weapons area had space for up to 13 beds (racks), so it was pretty roomy compared to the crew accommodation in their 6 berth cabins, with two up bunks. The exception to this was the individual cabins for the Captain and Executive Officer (XO). There is no sharing of racks on the Collins boats, each crew member has their own space. Even though different shifts occur.
To sum up what we learnt by observing this unique workplace? if you take 50 people all with different skills, remove them away from the distractions of normal daily life, keep them together in a metal tube for up to 6 months at a time, then place this tube deep under the sea, with no windows and no way to talk to the outside world, and you have a crucible that generates a unique character. In order to survive, and what flourishes here are qualities that many of us have almost forgotten. You MUST have trust and honour, you MUST be well organized, you MUST have humility and respect, you MUST be able to let go, to get on with each other and grow personally. In the split seconds of decision making during an emergency, or conflict, a submarine could not function and you would certainly not survive without these essential elements. When these elements are a given, and become second nature, you have a camaraderie and brotherhood that exists in very few, if any other work environments.
You HAVE to accept that the next person on your shift does your job exactly as you, you need to know that he or she will perform the same task professionally and safely, and in a crisis you know that the task, whatever it is, will be executed as you would do. Including an emergency situation, in this sense training and reaction times are paramount. As we have seen recently, a fire on board a submarine can turn to tragedy in a heartbeat. At least once a week we were involved in ‘Evolutions’ a training system that replicates very real scenarios including fire, explosion, chemical spillage, explosion, loss of trim etc, in fact anything that can go wrong whilst submerged, or on the surface.
In our interview with the XO, we got an insight into what it is like for the families left at home and what it is like coming back after an extended deployment.
“Whilst at sea you are gainfully employed and do not have much time to reflect on family and home, perhaps fleetingly on a daily basis. Fortunately, my wife is a fairly independent person and settles into a busy routine which is only interrupted when I return home! Upon my arrival there is the adjustment period. Some things annoy you. The spot where your shaving kit used to be is now occupied by a vase of dried flowers, and although the impulse is to move the vase, such actions are fraught with danger! You might be an important and influential person on board a submarine, but you can’t possibly adopt the same attitude at home”.
Journey facts
RANKIN, affectionately named the “The Black Knight” has steamed 20,000 nautical miles in 2004 with eighty percent of those being submerged. That is the equivalent of 32,000kms or ten trips from Perth to Sydney. The journey has included transits through the Indian, Pacific and Southern Oceans and in five Seas, including the Inland Sea of Japan, all coupled with port visits to three different Continents. From the start of work ups in February until arrival back in Fleet Base East in October, RANKIN spent a total of 126 days at sea, 7 in Korea, 8 in Japan, 25 in Hawaii, 10 in Sydney and only 37 at home in Fleet Base West. The Catering department cooked and served four meals a day for each day spent underway for a total of over 22,680 individual meals, including 180 extra large “slab pizzas” over nineteen Saturday nights at sea.
Historical factual bit
To build an unproven class of submarine in Australia — the Collins project — was a hugely ambitious project from the outset. Sweden had built a similar submarine but it was about half the size of ours. At that time there was not a submarine in the world that matched the requirements set by the Australian Navy for boats that could operate a long way from home for extended periods. The Europeans build a lot of conventional submarines and for the most part they operate them close to home, in the Baltic, the North Sea or the Mediterranean. The distances are pretty negligible when compared to the huge areas of ocean we have to navigate. For instance the Rankin has just returned from a six month deployment, as far as Hawaii. European boats might be at sea for a week or more at the most.
On the other hand, countries that do operate long distances from home generally use nuclear submarines, and they generally have the economical infrastructure to support them. Australia is a country of just on twenty million people, most of us would not support the tripling of costs it would take to operate this type of submarine, nor would we support the environmental impact it would have. We have proven that we can operate conventional diesel electric submarines in a way that meets our requirements, and in some areas, exceed those of a nuclear sub, such as shallow water operations. Australia does this very well, and they do it a long way from home.
All photographs and text © Jon Davison
My grateful thanks to Captain Steve Hussey, XO and the officers and crew of HMAS Rankin. Thanks to my colleague and fellow Sear Rider Tom Allibone.
Statistics
Displacement: 3350 tonnes (submerged)
Length: 77.8 metres
Diameter: 7.8 metres
Draught: 6.8 metres
Ships Company: 45 (plus extras depending on mission)
Propulsion: One Jeumont Schneider 5.4 megawatt main motor, three Hedemora 18 cylinder four stroke turbo charged diesels and three Jeaumont Schneider generators
Weapon Systems: Six forward tubes capable of launching
MK 48 wire-guided torpedoes or Sub Harpoon missiles
