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No fresh air for six months – the reality of life on a nuclear submarine
A British submarine has broken the record for the longest patrol at sea. Here's how submariners cope in ‘small steel tubes’ underwater
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They’re sometimes known as sun-dodgers: that group of men and women who spend long spells of time underwater on Navy submarines.
It’s a life very few outsiders can truly get their heads around. And for those on board the Vanguard-class vessels, patrolling at sea in a nuclear submarine, the challenges are all the greater.
This week it was reported that one such British submarine has broken the record for the longest patrol at sea. Its tour is believed to have lasted more than six months.
For those of us who grow panicky when the Tube grinds to a halt in a tunnel for more than 20 seconds, such a stint is hard to imagine. But even submariners who have completed shorter tours might baulk at the prospect.
![Junior rates relax in the mess playing a playstation on HMS Vigilant, one of the UK's fleet of four Vanguard class nuclear-powered ballistic missile submarines carrying the Trident nuclear missile system](/https/www.telegraph.co.uk/content/dam/news/2023/09/13/TELEMMGLPICT000349160765_16946300792250_trans_NvBQzQNjv4BqtGQB12KHxxQCrwnTZkX0nwgWqwm85JEWpGVhFb46TTg.jpeg?imwidth=350)
“That’s a crazy amount of time to be underwater in one go,” says Ryan Ramsey, a former commander on a Trafalgar-class attack submarine – a smaller vessel than a Vanguard. “It’s an incredible feat.”
The longest he spent on patrol was 99 days when he was captain of HMS Turbulent from 2008 to 2012.
The length of time spent encased in metal underwater would not have been the only hardship for the team on board the ageing Vanguard-class vessel that returned to Faslane naval base in Scotland on Monday.
No personal telephones or transmitting devices are allowed on board at any time because any transmissions could alert enemies to the submarine’s location. So crew members must be prepared for long periods with no communication with the outside world.
One of the greatest difficulties would be boredom, suggests Ramsey. “When SSBNs [ballistic missile submarines] go away, they’re there to make sure the [nuclear] deterrent is truly a deterrent. If nothing’s going on and you’re not doing a drill, you can take so much television to sea with you, but there’s no contact with the outside world. The physical and mental fortitude the team must have had is incredible.”
The UK’s four Vanguard-class submarines form its strategic nuclear deterrent force. Whereas life on board a Trafalgar-class vessel would be busy – “you’re going off to chase something or doing intelligence gathering [for instance]” – the skillset required for an SSBN team is different.
“It’s all about going to sea, finding somewhere and hiding so that if you’re called upon you’re prepared to use a weapon we hope nobody ever has to,” Ramsey explains.
“So the challenges for the crew, captain, the leadership are totally different. They have to find other forms of focus.”
So what can you do to while away the hours? “Routine becomes the first thing. Gradually people get into a routine. You have to keep morale high.”
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The crew can take exercise on running machines and by lifting weights, but food becomes an issue. “Fresh food runs out after a few weeks so you’re on to tinned and frozen and dried food,” says Ramsey.
“It’s a challenge for the chef … because morale revolves around food pretty quickly.” And while the SSBNs are “massive,” he says, “that space closes in on you in time”.
Physically and mentally, it’s tough. The constant watch-keeping cycle of six hours on and six hours off must heighten the risk of fatigue setting in, muses Ramsey, adding: “I’d be surprised if there aren’t mental health challenges after this because it’s extreme. The reality is they shouldn’t have to do that [amount of time]. Those boats were designed to go on three-month patrols.”
![Royal Navy personnel respond to a fire in a control room of a Vanguard Class ship simulator at Her Majesty's Naval Base, Clyde](/https/www.telegraph.co.uk/content/dam/news/2023/09/13/TELEMMGLPICT000349160756_16946301569440_trans_NvBQzQNjv4BqtGQB12KHxxQCrwnTZkX0nwgWqwm85JEWpGVhFb46TTg.jpeg?imwidth=350)
While a six-month patrol in a Vanguard-class vessel brings its own trials and privations, submariners who have served on other types of vessel for shorter stretches of time will still be familiar with this unique line of work and the fortitude required to hack it.
Only those who can pass the rigorous Perisher course – officially called the Submarine Command Course – will make it into the crew. As part of this, would-be submariners are tested to see how they would deal with the possible range of scenarios they might encounter in the job. Very occasionally someone struggles with the reality of life once they are on board.
“The only time I saw claustrophobia was a trainee who was really tall, 6ft 6in, who flew out to do some training, got very claustrophobic very quickly and we ended up sedating him until he could get off,” says Ramsey. “That was the only case I saw in 23 years.”
Another former submariner, who served as a marine engineer on nuclear submarines between 1986 and 1992, recalls the boredom. “It was the same thing day after day. And that was a period of time (during the Cold War) when nuclear hunter-killer submarines had a proper purpose. “There was high excitement if we detected one of the opposition submarines.”
He felt lucky to have his own bed on board his vessel. Those who worked at the front of the submarine had to share. “One man would get up as another got in.” He recalls the nauseating experience of being on a submarine near the surface in poor weather conditions. “They roll like cans and you see people walking around with buckets around their necks, being sick.”
![A submariner makes his way through a hatch on HMS Vigilant](/https/www.telegraph.co.uk/content/dam/news/2023/09/13/TELEMMGLPICT000349159959_16946302168490_trans_NvBQzQNjv4BqtGQB12KHxxQCrwnTZkX0nwgWqwm85JEWpGVhFb46TTg.jpeg?imwidth=350)
Mercifully this is not a problem in the deep. But the lack of communication with the outside world is. “Relationships were a revolving door,” he says. “There didn’t tend to be many marriages that survived it.”
Ramsey meanwhile sympathises with the families of the crew who have just returned from the Vanguard-class vessel’s record-breaking patrol. He knows the toll his own time away took on his two children, now 26 and 21, when they were younger.
![A sailor relaxes in his Junior Rating bunk aboard HMS Vigilant](/https/www.telegraph.co.uk/content/dam/news/2023/09/13/TELEMMGLPICT000349132426_16946303923960_trans_NvBQzQNjv4BqpVlberWd9EgFPZtcLiMQf0Rf_Wk3V23H2268P_XkPxc.jpeg?imwidth=350)
“It did affect them,” he says. “They talk about it quite openly now, that ‘dad wasn’t there’. It’s strange because you have another family, the Submarine Service … But it does affect families.”
On the other hand, there are definite perks to the job. The money was the main draw, admits the former marine engineer. He remembers the junior rates’ car park in Plymouth being full of expensive cars, owned by well-paid young submariners whose spending while at sea was restricted to the on-board shop.
“I went into the Submarine Service because the pay was about 25 per cent more than on surface ships,” he says. “But what you don’t realise as a young man at the time is that unfortunately a lot of the places you might want to see around the world don’t want a nuclear submarine in their harbour. So opportunities to see the world are poor.”
![The Auxiliary Machinery Space on HMS Vigilant submarine](/https/www.telegraph.co.uk/content/dam/news/2023/09/13/TELEMMGLPICT000349159825_16946302879370_trans_NvBQzQNjv4BqtGQB12KHxxQCrwnTZkX0nwgWqwm85JEWpGVhFb46TTg.jpeg?imwidth=350)
Perhaps, despite occasional inevitable friction, the camaraderie could be said to compensate. “With a whole load of bodies in a small steel tube there’s going to be friction,” says Ramsey. “Tempers fray occasionally.”
But those in the record-breaking crew of the Vanguard-class vessel will have enjoyed a powerful camaraderie “without a doubt”, he agrees. “It will be strong because they’ve done something so extreme it drives a sense of joint achievement.”
His own fondness for a job that would horrify many comes through clearly. “I’ve done some amazing jobs since leaving the Navy,” he says. “But the one job you can’t repeat is the Submarine Service.
![The Weapons Engineer Officers Tactical Trigger that would be used in the final stage of a nuclear missile launch, on board Vanguard-class submarine HMS Vigilant, one of the UK's four nuclear warhead-carrying submarines](/https/www.telegraph.co.uk/content/dam/news/2023/09/13/TELEMMGLPICT000349133275_16946303475840_trans_NvBQzQNjv4BqwBwu1L2eorE4h8CgqGiF4AD1aM0zGkmKQ8g-2fVrias.jpeg?imwidth=350)
“It’s an amazing place to learn teamwork. You build the best relationships ever. And everything you do is about saving life. There’s a real sense of purpose and achieving amazing things.”
There’s another nickname for the class of men and women who work on board these vessels. They’re known as the Silent Service because the submarines must operate undetected.
“Nobody knows about [your work],” says Ramsey. “You do it selflessly.”