During 1963-66 the Alcide was part of the 6th Canadian Submarine Squadron based at Halifax Nova Scotia. Canada HMS Alcide was an Amphion-class submarine of the Royal Navy, built by Vickers Armstrong and launched 12th April 1945. Her displacement approximately 1400 tons, length 293feet, beam 22 feet 4in, complement 5 officers 55 ratings. Test depth 350 feet, maximum depth 500 feet. Sold for scrap on 18th June 1974

A Submariner's Story

My name is Frederick Rodgers but I'm known aboard the Alcide as Ben. I'm a Leading Seaman and have served in submarines for a little more than five years. I was born in Belfast N.Ireland, and joined the Royal Navy in 1955. I'm twenty five and married with a beautiful one year old daughter named Caroline. My wife and daughter are presently living in married quarters in Halifax Nova Scotia.

Submarines usually operate a four watch system, and on that particular morning I was due on watch from 0400 -0800 hours. Everything seem normal and quiet in the boat as I was roused from a deep sleep.  Along with other bleary-eyed submariners I dragged myself  to the control room. It was late spring 1964, the Royal Navy “A” class submarine was cruising at four knots one hundred feet below the surface of the North Atlantic. Our job was to patrol in a designated zone listening for intruders, that being the polite name for Russians, the cold war was in full swing. At approximately 0430 the morning kye (hot chocolate) arrived and the officer of the watch gave permission for one all round. One all round was the signal to light up, smoking out of necessity was a restricted privilege aboard a submarine. The watch was relaxed, the boat in the hands of George our auto pilot controlling course, speed and depth. Nevertheless, we remained vigilant George could be notoriously unreliable at times. I was sitting at the fore planes keeping an eye on the depth while helping to solved most of the world’s major problems, and selecting the best car of the year. We touched on the problems of religion and politics, and anything else that came to mind. Around 0730 a wonderful aroma of bacon frying in the galley invaded my nostril’s, I was hungry and anxious to see my relief. A few minutes after 0800 I went aft to pick up my breakfast. The tiny galley on an “A” class boat is located in the after part of the control room beside the engine room door. Weary from four hours on watch I leaned against the bulkhead watching eggs sizzle on the grill. As the chef piled two eggs and several rashers of bacon on my plate I felt the deck begin to angle downward. I smiled as I listened to the officer of the watch berating the plainsman who just relieved me to watch his depth. I knew he couldn’t blame George, it had been shut down at the watch change. Suddenly it was clear the steep angle was not the fault of the planesman, we appeared to be in a steep dive. In a matter of seconds we were at 200 feet, the 1st Lieutenant rushed into the control room immediately taking charge of what was rapidly becoming a serious situation. The order to shut off for going deep sounded throughout the submarine. The captain’s cabin is located above the control room outside the main pressure hull and our skipper was asleep in the cabin. Going deep meant the lower conning tower hatch along with every other hatch inside the boat was quickly shut isolating the skipper in his cabin. I assisted in shutting the engine room door and all the valves passing through the bulkhead, then moved forward to report that part of ship sealed. Events now seemed to evolve in slow motion as the crew went about their duties sealing the boat for the deep dive. Every eye in the control room focused on the rapidly descending depth gauge readings. Passing 400 feet the 1st Lieutenant ordered the one thing we were waiting for, “blow main ballast”. This would surely correct the uncontrolled descent and allow us to regain buoyancy. The sound of air screeching into the ballast tanks was reassuring as we waited for the boat to level off and start rising. I stood breathless and motionless unable to take my eyes off the depth gauge. I wasn’t alone it seemed every man in the control room was frozen in time eyes firmly fixed on the same gauge. When the blow was completed an eerie and utter silence returned to the boat. We were still sinking blowing the tanks had not even slowed us down. The sea bottom perhaps two miles below we would never reach in one piece. As we passed through 600 feet the 1st lieutenant threw his shirt over the depth gauge effectively breaking our trance like concentration. Now in the silence we heard the first groans and creaks as the hull compressed under the enormous sea pressure. The feeling of being trapped in a steel tube as it plunges toward its crush depth is terrifying. Powerless to do anything I stood fearfully awaiting the end, I wondered would people know what happened to us or if we died bravely. I thought of never seeing a blue sky or green grass again, strange thoughts. I ask myself the silly question of why I’d volunteered for the submarine service? I remembered the theory we were taught during training, an “A” boat has a maximum depth of 500 feet, the hull was designed to withstand sea pressure to 1000 feet, then halved to 500 as a safety measure. That was only the builder’s theory and they weren’t here now to actually attest to its accuracy. Besides which, Alcide was more than twenty years old the pressure hull would have certainly deteriorated over that time. I was gripped by a fear never before experienced while outwardly I tried to maintain an appearance of calm. As we continued our descent a strange feeling of calm did indeed over take me. I relaxed realizing I was no longer in control of events unfolding around me. Through the fog of these thoughts and theories I became aware my right hand was hurting. I had a death grip on a stanchion but couldn’t let go thinking I might be adding strength to the hull. Suddenly a voice pierced my silent reverie, “bubble rising sir”. I wasn’t at first sure I’d heard correctly. Maybe I was dreaming and this was naturally what I’d want to hear? However, shifting my weight to allow for a sudden upward sweep of the deck I knew we were rising. The boat was now racing toward the surface at about the same speed we had dived moments before. Clearly no one wanted to slow our ascent even though sonar could not safely report surface contacts at this speed. When we broke surface a relieved skipper was the first man on the bridge. Trapped alone in his tiny cabin without knowing what was happening must have been a frightening ordeal. The entire experience had only taken minutes yet those minutes had seemed like hours. The question on everyone’s lips “What happened”? “What caused the sudden dive”? I wasn’t so concerned with the causes, just happy to be alive and back on the surface. Still hungry my thoughts quickly returned to my breakfast. On reaching the seaman’s mess I found it alive with chatter about the recent event, I think it was mostly bravado hiding fear. Shipmates eagerly related tales of worse experiences (supposedly) on other boats, “on such and such we hit the sea bed at 800 feet”. “Oh yeah! On my last boat we sank stern first and were stuck on the sea bed for hours” and so the stories went on. Personally it was the most terrifying experience of my life. I truly believe I’d walked through the valley of the shadow of death that morning and only by the grace of God had survived.

But what really happened? What caused the steep dive? How deep did we actually go? Question’s I can’t answer with any certainty. The best theory offered and perhaps the actual cause was an iceberg. Icebergs are generally made up of fresh water and as they move into the Gulf Stream they melt. That morning it is possible the submarine entered at the top of a huge pocket of fresh water, the remains of an iceberg. With the difference in water density between salt and fresh we immediately became very heavy and dropped like a stone. Only when we exited at the bottom of the berg did we regain our buoyancy. How deep we went is open to speculation, perhaps somewhere near 800 feet, if the berg had been a few feet deeper perhaps I wouldn’t be here to tell this story, who knows?   

                                             The End

I survived my time in submarines and went on to served a total of twelve years in the Royal Navy and twelve more in the Canadian Navy Reserve. I’m now retired and living with my wife Linda on our fifteen acre hobby farm located in Ebenezer Prince Edward Island. I enjoy the hobby of restoring and driving antique cars mostly British models and my present car is a 1971 Rover TC. In the year 2000 I began my first book, four years later I published a four hundred page memoir titled “Lily & Me” ISBN 1-55430-019-3 and is available at www.amazon.com. Visit my web page http://www.irishroversbooks.com