submarine

Type VII-A German U-boat, the first of many Type VII variants Photo credit: Wikipedia

A Brief History of Submarines, Part 5

by Thomas Sanger • War History • Leave a Comment

In 1938, German Chancellor Adolf Hitler approved a grand blueprint for building a German navy capable of challenging Great Britain’s dominance of the high seas. The ambitious “Plan Z” was due to be completed in 1948, but it had to be abandoned when Hitler invaded Poland on Sept. 1, 1939.

The German U-boat fleet commander, Karl Doenitz, had hoped to have some 300 attack submarines before going to war with the British. Instead, he had a fleet of 65 boats, only 21 of which were ocean-going attack U-boats. The design of these boats had been distilled from World War I submarines and reworked in secret by German engineers in the Netherlands.

The result was an agile, 600-ton U-boat, known as the Type VII. Its twin diesel engines could push the boat to a maximum speed of 17 knots while on the surface, but when the boat was submerged, its two battery-powered electric motors could make only half that speed. The boat was armed with four torpedo tubes in the bow and one in the stern. Including reloads, these initial U-boats carried 11 torpedoes. An 88-millimeter (mm) cannon was mounted on the deck in front of the boat’s conning tower, and a 20mm anti-aircraft gun was typically located on the deck behind the tower or, later, on the rear of the conning tower bridge itself. The submarine had become a formidable weapon of war.

The initial design, a Type VIIA, could operate underwater for about 48 hours before having to surface to recharge the batteries and provide welcome fresh air for the 40-man crew. As a result, U-boats, despite their name, spent most of their time on the ocean’s surface. By the end of the war Germany would build more than 1,100 U-boats, 709 of which were Type VII variants.

When England declared war on Germany, Sept. 3, 1939, Doenitz had already dispatched 19 U-boats in his ocean-going fleet to stations north and south of the sea lanes into the British Isles. The primary target for Germany’s navy was merchant shipping, as the Nazis sought to deny the raw materials and food supplies so vital to the British economy. U-boats sank several merchant ships, including a passenger liner, during the first days of the war. The damage prompted the British Admiralty to quickly adopt the convoy system it had employed in the previous war.

In the lead-up to World War II, Germany had focused most of its naval resources on “capital ships,” the battleships and heavy cruisers by which modern navies measured their prestige. Within a year, however, most of Germany’s capital ships had been neutralized by the larger British Royal Navy. This left the U-boat as the Nazi’s principal naval weapon, and it would prove more than equal to the task, as we will see in our next blog.

The U-boat attack on the British passenger ship Lusitania killed nearly 1,200 people and shocked the world. Photo credit: Bluebird Marine Systems, LTD

A Brief History of Submarines, Part 3

by Thomas Sanger • Thomas C. Sanger • Leave a Comment

At the beginning of World War I in July, 1914, Germany had 48 submarines, or “U-boats” (for Unterseeboot), in service or under construction. The German boats would prove more reliable and more lethal during the course of the conflict. Indeed, a German U-boat, U-21, was the first to sink a warship with a self-propelled torpedo when she attacked H.M.S. Pathfinder, Sept. 5, 1914.

In the opening months of the war, submarines, like their surface ship counterparts, observed the traditional “prize rules” with regard to merchant shipping. That is, merchant ships were stopped and captured or they were sunk once their crews were taken off the ships. But on Oct. 20, 1914, U-17 torpedoed and sank the first merchant ship of the war, the British-flagged S.S. Glitra, without observing the prize rules.

By February of 1915, Germany’s Kaiser Wilhelm II declared the waters around the British Isles to be a “war Zone” in which any ship could be attacked without warning, setting the stage for one of the war’s most dramatic events. On May 7, 1915, U-20 sank R.M.S. Lusitania off the Irish coast, killing nearly 1,200 passengers and crew, including 128 Americans.

The shocking deaths of so many civilians stunned the world. The United States, at the time a neutral country in the war, threatened to sever all ties with Germany. The threat prompted Germany to reinstate the prize rules in full and order seemed to have been restored. U-boat tactics involved surfacing to surprise a merchant vessel, advising its crew to abandon ship, then using the U-boat’s deck gun to sink the ship. Torpedoes were expensive and less reliable than surface fire so they were used sparingly.

A year later, at the end of May, 1916, the German and British fleets clashed in the Battle of Jutland. Although Germany claimed victory, the Royal Navy remained firmly in control of the seas. As a result, German naval high command argued to abandon the prize rules and resume attacking merchant shipping. They gambled that a high rate of merchant shipping losses would force Britain to sue for peace before the U.S. could effectively enter the war.

By the end of January, 1917, Germany announced its U-boats would henceforth conduct unrestricted warfare against all shipping. In mid-March, Germany sank three American merchant ships. The U.S. declared war on Germany April 4. The German tactics were initially effective, but the introduction of the convoy system later in the year reduced the U-boats’ success rate and in the end, Germany failed to sink enough Allied shipping to gain victory or even a stalemate.

In the final counting, Germany built 373 U-boats during the war and lost 178 to Allied action. But U-boats sank more than 30 warships and 5,000 merchant and fishing vessels, killing 15,000 sailors and civilians. In the minds of many merchant seamen the submarine had become a weapon of terror, and many negotiators at Versailles pushed to outlaw the submarine altogether.

In our next blog we will look at how the submarine navigated the interwar period.

U.S.S. Holland, U.S. Navy's first commissioned submarine Photo credit: moddb.com

A Brief History of Submarines, Part 2

by Thomas Sanger • War History • Leave a Comment

As the 19th century drew to a close, submarine design innovation began to accelerate. Irish inventor John Phillip Holland, working in America, resolved the thorny problem of propulsion by combining an internal combustion engine for surface travel with electric battery power for submerged operation. The “Holland Type VI,” his most successful model, became the U.S. Navy’s first commissioned submarine in 1900.

In the first decade of the new century diesel engines became the preferred source of surface propulsion, reducing the fire danger posed by gasoline or kerosene engines. More powerful battery-driven electric motors provided greater range underwater. A further innovation allowed batteries to be recharged by a submarine’s main engines while running on the surface. During this period, France introduced the now-classic double-hull design (a pressure hull inside an outer hull).

On the eve of World War I, the Royal Navy fleet included 74 submarines, 15 of which were oceangoing boats with a range of 2,500 miles and cruising speed of ten knots. These were the first submarines equipped with a deck gun forward of the conning tower, producing a silhouette recognizable as the first modern submarine.

Yet, with all these innovations and developments, the submarine’s full potential as a weapon of war was not apparent to Europe’s naval commanders. Battle strategies anticipated squadrons of surface vessels, led by massive battleships (dreadnaughts) throwing shells 20 miles or more, slugging it out for control of the high seas. By contrast, the submarine was seen as best suited for coastal protection and attacking blockades.

But World War I would lead to changes in naval strategy and tactics that would favor the submarine’s unique characteristics. More about that in our next blog.

The first practical submarine was built in 1620's by Dutch inventor Cornelius Drebble. Photo credit: Civilian Military Intelligence Group

A Brief History of Submarines, Part 1

by Thomas Sanger • War History • Leave a Comment

From the earliest days of sail, ancient civilizations dreamed of a vessel that could carry sailors underwater to unlock the ocean’s mysteries and, not surprisingly, to attack enemy ships by surprise. Over centuries many ideas were committed to paper, but none proved practical when brought to life.

The first successful submarine was developed by a Dutch inventor, Cornelius Drebbel, working for the King of England. Drebbel tested his wooden ship in the early 17th century on the River Thames. Powered by oars, the craft could submerge and surface at will and could remain underwater for up to three hours with the help of snorkel-like tubes. While Drebbel’s design validated the concept of the submarine, the world would wait another 250 years for advances in science and technology to begin to unlock its full potential.

A German-American engineer built the first modern submarine in 1866 for the Pacific Pearl Co. The “Sub Marine Explorer” could reach a depth of 100 feet, used compressed air to equalize pressure on the hull, and maneuvered underwater with a hand-powered propeller. Unfamiliarity with “decompression sickness” (known today as “the bends”) and overfishing the pearl beds off Panama’s coast led to the craft being abandoned three years later.

Across the Atlantic, the same year the Sub Marine Explorer made its maiden voyage, the first modern, self-propelled torpedo was designed in England. Powered by compressed air, the torpedo could travel eight miles per hour and reliably strike a target at 700 yards, potentially making the submarine a more viable weapon of war.

Submarines and torpedoes came together in the 1880’s. Incorporating design advances from French and Spanish engineers, the Nordenfelt IV, built by a Swedish industrialist, was armed with two torpedoes. The 100-ton, twin screw vessel was powered by steam on the surface and propelled underwater by pressure built up when the engine ran on the surface. Nevertheless, technical problems remained – chief among them was need for a source of long-distance underwater propulsion.

The most promising answer to the propulsion question appeared to be electric motors. In 1884 a Polish-Russian engineer successfully tested a battery-driven one-horsepower motor in a submerged boat in the Neva River. But the limitations of early batteries restricted the submarine’s range underwater and failed to attract the support of naval officials in Europe and the Americas. Yet each subsequent design added new innovations (i.e. periscope, hydroplanes, electric gyroscope) that would prove indispensable with the development of the modern submarine at the dawn of the 20th century.

In my next blog, the submarine becomes a devastating new weapon of war. 

The Story of Russell Park and the SS Athenia Continues* Part 3

by Thomas Sanger • Meet the Character, SS Athenia, Thomas C. Sanger, War History • Leave a Comment

war-headline2

Sunday Morning, September 3, 1939

With the conclusion of Father Joseph O’Connor’s Holy Mass for several dozen Catholics aboard Athenia, Russell was on his feet. The morning service had seemed interminable as he sat with his mother, Rebecca, and the other worshipers in the ornately domed Tourist class smoking lounge on the Promenade deck. The combination of the ship’s motion and the room’s warm, still air made his stomach feel funny, and he did not want to be sick. His mother, Rebecca, finally relented after he had pleaded his case for nearly twenty-four hours. Russell would be able to explore the ship after lunch.

“Don’t go running off yet, young man,” Rebecca said. “We’re meeting your father for lunch.”

“I know.” Russell managed a smile and imagined he felt better now he was moving.

On their way down to the Tourist class dining saloon, Russell saw a group of people in the passageway on A deck looking at something on the wood-paneled wall. A low, anxious murmur filled the hall as a few individuals ran to join the group, while others walked away looking worried and unhappy.

“What is it?” Rebecca asked an older woman coming away from the growing crowd.

“England’s at war with Germany. The prime minister announced it this morning,” she said. Russell saw tears in the woman’s eyes.

“Oh no,” Rebecca said. She squeezed Russell’s hand, but did not start down the stairs.

“What do we do now?” Russell asked. His mother didn’t answer. She seemed rooted to the carpet.

“Mom?” Rebecca stared straight ahead. She looked worried and that concerned Russell. “Mom!”

“What?” she said, finally looking at him.

“Do we have to go back to England?”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure. Let’s find your father, he’ll probably know more.”

* * *

The Tourist Dining Saloon was not crowded for the midday meal; several tables sat unoccupied, their crisp, snowy linens and gleaming place settings abandoned. The Parks occupied three seats at the end of a rectangular table for eight. An older woman at the opposite end was the only other diner at their table. Russell sensed a somber mood in the room’s subdued conversations, and he feared it would make his parents even more cautious than usual.

He knew his mother and father were older than the parents of other boys his age, and he sometimes wondered if that was the reason for their caution. His father never joined in when other dads played ball with their sons on the street in front of their house. While Russell didn’t care much for sports, he often wished that he and his father shared an activity the other boys would admire, like big game hunting or stunt flying. His mother always kept a close eye on him and constantly warned Russell to be careful, even when he wasn’t doing anything dangerous. He thought her caution resulted from what his father called “her delicate health,” which could keep her bedridden for weeks at a time.

As they waited for their lunches, Russell’s father, Alexander, admitted he didn’t know much more about the morning’s announcement, although he seemed confident Athenia would continue on to Canada rather than sail back to England. When lunch arrived, Russell’s mother picked lightly at her food, saying she didn’t feel hungry. Russell hoped to counter the mood by cleaning his plate in a show of vitality he hoped would convince his parents to let him explore the ship as promised. But when Rebecca raised the subject with her husband, Russell realized she was wavering. He adopted his most fervent tone in hopes of saving his afternoon exploration.

“But mom, if they’re not going to turn the ship around they must not be worried. I’ll be real careful.”

“I’m not worried about you being careful,” she said. “I’m worried about something happening to the ship and not knowing where you are.”

“Okay, I know where our room is. I can come back right away to meet you if anything happens. Please…”  He knew if he had enough time, he could wear his mother down, but that could take the rest of the day and he was eager to get started.

“I don’t think there’s much danger of anything happening, dear,” Alexander said. “It’s broad daylight and we are obviously a passenger ship, not a wartime target. Besides, a state of war has only just been declared. The Germans probably aren’t even in a position to attack at this point.”

Rebecca looked tired, and when she spoke, Russell heard a note of resignation in her voice that meant he’d won his case.

“Before I would let you go anywhere on this ship, you’re coming with me back to the cabin to change into your oldest clothes.”

Russell nodded enthusiastically.

“And you would have to promise me two things. First, that you won’t bother any other passengers. And second, that you won’t go anywhere you are not permitted.”

“I promise.” He certainly didn’t plan to bother anyone, and he had no intention of breaking his promise. But going where he wasn’t permitted ran counter to what explorers did.

* * *

war-headline

 

*While Athenia sat at anchor Saturday, Sept. 2, 1939, in Liverpool’s Mersey River (see blog post March 15, 2017), 546 passengers boarded the ship before she sailed for Canada late that afternoon. The German army had marched into Poland Sept. 1, but despite an Anglo-French agreement to come to Poland’s defense, neither country had taken any action by early Sunday morning.

In our next blog: Russell makes a new friend.