Voyage to the Wrecks of Portland Bill

A SEAVIEW Operational Log — Classified

Compiled by the Office of the Diving Officer

HM Submarine M2  •  HM Submarine P555

Eyes of Nelson Only

Filed with the Admiralty of the Deep

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DAY ONE – SATURDAY – HM SUBMARINE M2

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Historical Record — HM Submarine M2

M2 was laid down in 1917 and commissioned in 1920 as a monitor-class submarine, originally fitted with a single 12-inch gun — a weapon of such spectacular impracticality that the Navy, to its credit, eventually admitted as much. In 1927 she was converted to become the world’s first submarine aircraft carrier, her gun replaced by a watertight hangar housing a Peto seaplane of similarly questionable combat utility.

She was lost on 26 January 1932 with all 60 hands off West Bay, Portland, during exercises. The cause: the hangar door was opened too early while the boat was still surfacing, and she sank in under 90 seconds. The era of the submarine aircraft carrier died with her. She lies in approximately 32 metres, pointing southeast, and has been a protected wreck since 1979.

05:45 — Admiral Nelson’s standing order: no man sleeps past 0545 when there are wrecks to be dived. By 06:30 the crew had assembled and Colin’s van, Belle 2, was underway — an uneventful transit the Admiral would later describe, charitably, as ‘adequate.’ Portland Yacht Marina received us with the particular welcome reserved for those who arrive before anyone else is conscious. 08:45. We walked the kit down to Skindeep. Ropes off not until 10:20. We stood in the sunshine like men who had planned this gap very deliberately.

Russell arrived. As the other divers turned up, the three of us prepared our kit on the dock. Then came the safety briefing — delivered by Ed, Skindeep’s skipper, a man who has clearly briefed enough divers to know that the best safety briefing is one delivered in lively sunshine with minimal wind, and that these conditions do not last. Round the Bill and out past Chesil — 90 minutes transit, then we waited for slack.

The shot went down courtesy of Ed. Visibility upon descent: 3 metres. Not ideal by the Admiral’s visual standards, but sufficient for those of us who rely on proximity to the wreck rather than, say, sonar.

Forward to the bow we found strange apparatus on the deck — the ghost of an age when the Royal Navy believed you could conceal a seaplane inside a submarine and emerge from the deep to conduct a surprise aerial reconnaissance of the enemy, who would presumably be too astonished to react.

I ventured inside the hangar. It remained structurally sound. I emerged. Mission accomplished.

Aft past the conning tower to the stern — the rudder and hydrofoils inspected with appropriate gravity. Bib present in numbers. One small conger observed, noted, and mentally filed under ‘Not a Patch on the Conger Encountered with Chip Nigel on a Previous Mission.’ Some threats cannot be replicated.

At 30 minutes, I called it. The boys concurred without dissent. We were first in, first out — the hallmark of a well-run diving operation. Behind us, one buddy pair — a rebreather operator and a twin-set man on open-circuit air — accumulated decompression obligations of operationally impractical duration. The twin-set man’s Suunto dive computer, apparently convinced  it was the last line of defence against a nitrogen narcosis apocalypse, continued to demand his presence underwater long after reasonable men had surfaced for tea. He surfaced eventually. Ed, waiting on Skindeep, was not well pleased. The Suunto was unavailable for comment.

• Maximum depth: 31.9 metres
• Dive time: 41 minutes
• Decompression: None required
• Visibility: Approximately 3 metres
• Notable fauna: Bib (numerous), small conger (one, unimpressive)

Secondary Target — SS Countess of Erne (Declined)

A shallow wreck within the harbour, popular with trainees and historically notable chiefly for containing three toilets. Target assessment: non-essential. The main dive team stood down. Two divers accepted the mission. We changed into dry clothes and procured gas for the following day, which is arguably the more operationally significant achievement.

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DAY TWO —SUNDAY— HM SUBMARINE P555

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Historical Record — HM Submarine P555

P555, known in American service as USS Stickleback (SS-415), was a Balao-class fleet submarine built at the Mare Island Navy Yard, California, and commissioned in March 1945. Transferred to the Royal Navy the same year under Lend-Lease arrangements, she served as HMS Stickleback — one of several American boats loaned to bolster the Royal Navy’s submarine arm in the final stages of the war.

She was returned to the United States Navy in 1958 and sold for scrapping — only to be sunk instead as a target vessel off Portland, her final duty performed in a single, undignified afternoon. She lies at approximately 42–45 metres, listing to starboard, and is considered one of the premier technical dives off the English south coast

Sausage and omelette baps consumed. Russell roused. Colin accounted for. Belle 2 — Colin’s van — conveyed the crew to the car park, from which we walked down to Skindeep. Ropes off 11:00 with nine divers, one unaccounted for and not publicly discussed.

An hour’s transit and we hit the site with commendable precision, the shot landing just forward of the conning tower in a tangle of wreckage on the deck. Visibility upon entry: poor. Visibility upon reaching depth: improving. It was as if the sea itself had reviewed the day’s objectives and decided to cooperate.

Before the dive could properly commence, operational complications intervened. A glove seam had failed between the fingers — a matter of some consequence at 42 metres. Ed brought Skindeep alongside and picked me up & provided a replacement wet glove with the efficiency the service demands, then dropped me back in. By the time I descended, Colin and Russell had long since reached the wreck and were somewhere in the murk below, no doubt wondering what had become of their Diving Officer.

Aft past the conning tower: crawfish nestled underneath the stern in a colony of considerable self-possession, entirely unbothered by NATO classification. Along the deck — the gun emplacement, an edible crab in a circular depression regarding us with the weary dignity of a creature who has seen many divers and found none of them particularly interesting. Then forward: torpedo tubes, the anchor, the bow notably pointed and lifted clear of the seabed.

Bag deployed from depth; ascent commenced. Twenty-two minutes of decompression were duly served, suspended in the water column somewhere beneath the hull of Skindeep, counting plankton. A crossword would have been the wiser preparation. The sea offered none.

Back on board by 14:30. Two submarines in two days. Traffic excellent in both directions. The Admiral expressed quiet satisfaction.

• Entry time: 11:35
• Maximum depth: 42.5 metres
• Dive time: 61 minutes
• Decompression: 22 minutes (bring a crossword)
• Visibility: Approximately 3 metres (improving with depth)
• Notable fauna: Crawfish (colony, stern), edible crab (circular depression, philosophical)
• Equipment note: Glove failure, starboard hand. Replaced on surface by Ed. Mission resumed.

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APPENDIX A – MESS INCIDENT REPORT

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The Famous Old Spa Public House, Portland

Severity Level 4 — Significant

Prior Intelligence

A previous visit to the establishment had recorded live musical entertainment. The singer in question was not, it must be said, particularly accomplished — but she was present, she was attempting the thing, and in the context of a post-dive Saturday evening, the bar for morale enhancement is not set especially high. This intelligence was filed, and not updated. It should have been.

Following the successful prosecution of two submarine dives across the weekend — the M2 on Saturday and the P555 on Sunday, operations conducted with distinction and no small expenditure of nitrogen — the crew sought replenishment at the Famous Old Spa on Saturday evening, an establishment previously assessed as satisfactory. The crew arrived freshly showered, in good spirits, and with metabolic requirements that any reasonable hostelry ought to have been able to meet.

Upon entering, crew were confronted not with musical entertainment but with football. It is not this officer’s position to pass judgement on the game of football as a cultural institution. It is, however, this officer’s position to note that football was not what the crew had been led to expect, and that personnel who have spent the day at depth, breathing compressed gas at 32 metres, deserve better advance warning before being subjected to a penalty shootout at the precise moment of attempting to unwind.

The food was dry. The Admiralty notes this finding without elaboration, as elaboration is unnecessary. Dryness of this magnitude does not occur by accident. It requires either remarkable negligence or a firmly held culinary philosophy with which this crew respectfully and completely disagrees. The establishment had not considered that men returning from a submarine dive might harbour expectations of something approaching moisture in their evening meal.

Those expectations were not met. The sea itself was wetter than this food.

The meal was consumed in the spirit in which it was served — that is to say, without enthusiasm and with admirable discipline. Morale, which had been at an operationally impressive high following a successful Saturday dive, was assessed post-meal at a materially reduced level. The direct causal link is noted for the record.

Withdrawal to base — the Premier Inn — was effected at the earliest operationally acceptable moment. Lights out: 20:30. This officer does not consider this a defeat. Retiring at 20:30 after a 05:45 start, a submarine dive, and a meal of this quality is not a failure of stamina. It is evidence of it. Sunday’s dive would prove the better for it.

Recommendations for Future Operations

1. Verify entertainment schedule before committing to any civilian establishment.
2. Request advance moisture assessment of all menu items where possible.
3. Consider carrying emergency rations aboard Skindeep as contingency against further culinary intelligence failures.
4. Note that even an indifferent singer is preferable to football. Update the intelligence accordingly.

The sea giveth. The Famous Old Spa taketh away.

End of Log — Filed with the Admiralty of the Deep

Eyes of Nelson Only