Submariner Tales

By MV Suresh

The short stories cover aspects of the Indian Navy's nascent submarine arm which began in the 1960s with Soviet Foxtrot submarines. Humorous semi fictionalised narration covers the idiosyncratic organisation and its no-nonsense leaders with whom the author was up and close.

The incredible tales of life on board the Submarines will enchant – fascinate – take you to the ocean's depth, and make you feel the presence of death that comes unseen.

About the Author

Commodore M V Suresh. NM, spent most of his career in the Submarines. While dived deep in the Submarines, as Sonar Officer, he passionately listened to the sounds and whistles of Fish, Dolphins and Whales, while being vigilant and keeping track of the enemy ships. During his career, he commanded several Submarines and was awarded Nao Sena Medal for Submarine Operations. He commanded INS. AMBA. He commanded the Submarine Squadron both on the East and West coast. He was the Director of Naval War College. He has published three books, Mystic Kerala, The Tales of Mystic Kerala, and the popular Novel 'THE BELLY DANCER.'

• Language: English
• Publisher: Frontier India
• Release date: Feb 4, 2022
• ISBN: 9789391981068

Book preview

SUBMARINER TALES

Copyright © 2022 MV Suresh

ISBN 13: 978-93-91981-06-8

ISBN 10: 93-91981062

Cover Painting by: Cdr Rajesh Ramkumar

Cover Design: Nitin Jacob

All rights reserved.

Published by

Frontier India Technology

No 22, 4th Floor, MK Joshi Building, Devi Chowk, Shastri Nagar,

Dombivli West, Maharashtra, India. 421202

https://frontierindia.org

The views expressed in this book are those of the author/representatives and not at all of the publisher. The publisher is not responsible for the views of the author and authenticity of the data, in any way whatsoever. Cataloging/ listing of this book for re-sale purpose can be done, only by the authorised companies.  Cataloging /listing or sale by unauthorised distributors / bookshops /booksellers etc., is strictly prohibited and will be legally prosecuted.  All disputes are subject to Thane, Maharashtra jurisdiction only.

Contents

SUBMARINERS NEVER GIVE UP

THE SINKING OF PAKISTANI SUBMARINE GHAZI: THE UNTOLD STORY

THE PIONEERS OF THE SUBMARINE ARM – CMDE. K S SUBRA-MANIAN. VSM.

THE PIONEERS OF THE SUBMARINE ARM - CAPTAIN M N R SAMANT. MVC.

THE SECRETARY I MISS

VVIP VISITS BOMBAY

STEWARD’S SIMPLE SOLUTION TO A COMPLICATED PROBLEM

VVIP VISITS NEWEST SUBMARINE INS VAGLI

ADMIRAL AUDITTO’S - MAGIC SOLUTION

CROWN PRINCE OF THAILAND VISITS THE SUBMARINE

DESTINY BENDS AT THE RAILWAY TRACK

I AM A SUBMARINER

MEET THE PRESIDENT

FUTURE IS BRIGHT

ADMIRAL NADKARNI'S BOTTLE

AIR CHIEF’S X-RAY

I VAGLI

NDA to GALWAN

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER  9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

SUBMARINERS NEVER GIVE UP

VADM MP Awati PVSM,VrC -  Dived in the Submarine INS KARANJ. The photo with the Commanding Officer Cmde.M V SURESH on surfacing from deep out at sea.

I was commanding INS Karanj. The only submariner representing Eastern Naval Command during East Wind Exercise. A major exercise of the combined Fleet Operations right up to the Malacca Straits. The initial workup was off Visakhapatnam, graduating to Port Blair and beyond.

During one of the serials on surfacing from deep, the Navigating Officer Lt D V Pandit (sadly no more) pointed out that the Fore planes are flapping loose.

The Fore Planes is a huge sturdy thing. How could something like that become loose?

I rushed up to the bridge; I saw the Fore planes were indeed flapping, like a broken wing of a dead pelican. Usually, the Fore planes are turned inwards on the surfacing of the submarine.

The Fore planes control the diving and surfacing of the submarine along with the Aft planes. The Fore planes play a critical role during the initial dive.

As in life, it generally happens that the initial reports are less alarming, less perfidious. It was assumed that some nut may have come loose and could be fixed. After inspection, my Engineer Officer Lt Cdr George, a conscious Engineer, came up to me. His body language lugubrious was foreboding. The report ' The Fore planes Tie - the rod has broken Sir.'

And I ask,'‘So what do we do? There was no immediate response. His Intense look conveyed the Full impact. It took some time for the message to sink in. A change tie rod means a return to harbour.

A warrior limping home before entering the battlefield. Retired hurt, even before the battle had begun.

Time and space did not allow us the option to return to Harbour, demand the spares from the Main Spare Depot, Mankurd, carry out the repair and rejoin The Fleet.

I took time out from the Fleet Commander to evaluate the situation. We managed to lash up our broken wing, the Fore planes in an unfavorable position. The feeling of helplessness, of stigmata, quickly permeates. Sweat trickles underneath the armpit, the inevitable Indian Ethos 'luck is not in our favor'. The ultimate appeasement and re - consolation, of acceptance, of genuflection of shit luck, of Destiny.

There should be a solution, we discussed, we analysed, an aperture of hope. Let's try to dive without the use of Fore planes. We commenced the evolution.

SOUND DIVING STATIONS.

SUBMARINE READY TO DIVE.

HALF AHEAD THREE MOTORS.

DIVING NOW.. DIVING NOW.

DIVE TO 30 METERS.

All ballast tanks flooded. Quick diving tank flooded. The submarine surged ahead with the immense power of the three shafts. After planes making a valiant effort to dive. Like a giant black whale, the submarine skimmed the surface, nose up. Unable to dive. We stopped the evolution.

The problem was the nose not going down. The solution 's 'let's make the nose heavy'. So, we make the forward heavier by transferring one ton of water from Aft trim tank to the forward trim tank. We begin - The evolution.

DIVING NOW DIVING NOW

We gather momentum, slowly imperceptibly. We saw the bubble shift Aft, indicating the nose going down. We gain depth. The nose being heavier, it continued its momentum. I order the water transfer from forward to aft to gain Control of the developing steep angle and regain an even keel underwater.

The nose was dangerously going down; we could not stand straight in the control room. We had to hang on holding to whatever was within reach. The whole submarine has become a Fore planes. DIVING relentlessly to dangerous depths.

I know what happens when we lose depth. We would hurl ourselves like a stricken spacecraft deep in the ocean, inexorably inevitably to crushing depths. At one stage, the immense water pressure exerted on the Submarine surface would crush The Submarine like an egg. We would implode inwards. Death would be instantaneous. No struggle. No pain. Just a transition. An EXIT.

Pakistan's sunken Submarine PNS GAZI is close by off Visakhapatnam. In death, we are no longer enemies but companions in perpetuity. Momentarily such images flash past back and forth.

The centrality of the problem flashes at you like a Red Flashing Bulb.

We are losing Control distinctly and instinctively; the trained and conditioned mind takes command. Orders fly out rapidly and with clarity. EMERGENCY SURFACING PROCEDURE. The orders were carried out effectively and implicitly.

It is ironic; the brave and the timid have to share The Same space underwater.

We realised the problem was not the procedure when the submarine is underwater. We are neutrally buoyant. So, the adopted method of keeping the forward heavier and the subsequent corrective process of transferring the water from forward to aft was slow and inadequate. Hence The inability to control the trim underwater.

Exhausted and dispirited, I order a tea break. I retire to my cabin - a small Cubicle. What do I do in a Wartime scenario when I am under enemy attack? My wings are broken. Do I surrender? I cannot give up. Submariners Never Give Up. A silent prayer, a tranquil moment. A sublime

thought flashes - water transfer is slow. Human body transfer is faster—a fresh approach.

SOUND DIVING STATIONS

Action plan. Forty sailors to stay extreme-forward beneath the Torpedo tubes and in order to run away aft. Each sailor would be around 60 Kgs. Yes, 40 x 60, yes that means 300 Kgs could be transferred from extreme forward to Aft in 30 Seconds.

At critical depth and Trim, 40 sailors ran away in a flash, imperceptibly by sheer will and spirit. The submarine was under control. The great lady held the depth steady at 30 Mtrs. The cheer was infectious; doubts persisted. Was it a one-time success? I said, let us do it again. We did it six times. Each time a little more refined and confident. We stayed underwater for 4 hrs.

When convinced and satisfied that the procedure was safe and successful, we made a signal to the C in C that we did succeed in diving and surfacing six times without Foreplanes and sought C in C approval to continue with our mission without Fore planes, with a request that a spare tie rod is sent to Port Blair.

Much later, I learnt that C in C staff officers did not approve the proposal. They considered it unsafe and recommended that the Submarine return to harbour. Admiral M K Roy. erudite and masterly, as always, displayed a remarkable clarity of thought and judgement. He concluded the Submarine commanding officer had carried out the evolution six times and looked confident. I standby the Young Commanding officer and approved INS Karanj to continue the mission.

We kept Admiral A K Roy's Flag flying, and his judgment vindicated. What a magnificent effort it was. All evolution was carried out professionally. Not once was the submarine detected. Not once do we fail in our task or performance.

If you are part of the drama, have gone through the tension, the eerie sound of the silence underwater, the Sweating, listening, watching the gauges, the depth of the water and the gradual, incremental control, a slow realisation dawns that you have seized the initiative, and your mind is in command. The machine is now obeying to your will.

It is a relief and an ecstasy though silent and yet emphatic. The spirit permeates into your ethos. The submarine becomes a part of you, an extension of your personality. It is a feeling to be felt and automatically rendered into your consciousness. Submariners Never Give Up. once a Submariner, always a Submariner.

The photo is of Admiral Awati. C in C Western Naval Command. He sailed with us. He was impressed by the spirit of INS Karanj. He came to see us off with the Naval Band. His flag was flown on the submarine as a special honour. When I saluted him, he said, make sure every ship salutes this submarine. You deserve this. It was a moment to cherish.

PS. I have been informed that this procedure has now been accepted as an operating procedure and practised during the workup of the submarine.

THE SINKING OF PAKISTANI SUBMARINE GHAZI: THE UNTOLD STORY

PROPELLER OF PNS GHAZI - It was retrieved from the sunken submarine by Indian Naval Divers, now placed at the gate of NAVAL DOCKYARD, VISAKHAPATNAM.

Naval warfare is a war of nerves, particularly when a submarine is on the prowl. The hunter and the hunted are blind, almost blind, and fully aware of the dangers.

PNS Ghazi was the Pakistani submarine on the prowl, like a black panther moving silently in the dark forests. Death comes swiftly, noiselessly, instantly, and almost painlessly. The air is sucked out of the lungs. The water pressure crushes the ribs. The rendezvous of death does not take place by accident. It takes place in the minds, months in advance. The most closely guarded secret in naval warfare is the intention and the aim.

The departure of ships and submarines from a harbour cannot be kept a secret. Many agents keep track of the ship on the jetty, in the channel, at anchorage, as well as fishing boats and trawlers catching fish, but silently focusing a powerful binocular. The sailing out of PNS Ghazi is instantly reported, monitored, and plotted at the Naval War Room in the Naval Headquarters, New Delhi. Sailing out of INS Vikrant is similarly recorded and plotted in the War Room at Karachi.

Cdr. Khan, the bold and courageous commanding officer of PNS Ghazi, the Pakistani submarine, had declared his intention, a solemn pledge on the open parade ground before sailing out from Karachi. 'I pledge, Inshallah, I will not return to Karachi without sinking Vikrant.'

This solemn pledge, the bold declaration, the emphatic statement of intent that knitted the eyebrows in the Naval War Room, Delhi, and with great concern. This was not to be taken as an empty threat. It was a credible declaration.

The warm tropical waters of the Arabian Sea and the Bay of Bengal have layers of water with differing temperatures at varying depths. These layers bend the sound waves penetrating the depths, a shadow zone is created, providing an excellent hiding place for the submarine.

Cdr. Khan was a magician underwater, adept at hiding and yet delivering the powerful torpedoes that could sink ships. He was a bold commander now fired with the single-minded obsession to sink Vikrant.

That was also to become his greatest weakness. In the underwater world of the unexpected, you shouldn't put on blinkers.

During the 1971 war, I was on board INS Kursura, the Indian submarine. We were patrolling off the Pakistan coast; the submarine was commanded by the diminutive commander, Arun Auditto, the indomitable. When onboard, he was 10 feet tall. Such was his image; such was his power. We carried out an intensive patrol off Karachi and returned to Vizag for repair and maintenance. The sinking of INS Khukri, the Indian warship on anti-submarine patrol by the Pakistani submarine in the Arabian Sea, was a great shock. The great ship was commanded by Captain Mahendra Nath Mulla, a magnetic and towering personality. INS Khukri was on war patrol; her ability to detect a submarine was limited, which made the threat potent and credible. On that fateful night, as the warship was patrolling the dark waters, there were three massive explosions. Torpedoes tore through the ship. The ship stood no chance.

Captain Mulla ordered, 'Abandon ship!'

There were chaos, cries, and panic. Captain Mulla sat on the captain's chair, stern like a rock, smoking a cigarette. He refused a life jacket. Tradition demanded that the captain does not abandon the ship. It is a powerful feeling; your personality gets identified with the ship. Captain was the ship. Captain Mulla went down with the ship sitting in the captain's chair.

The fact that three torpedoes ripped through the ill-fated warship was a great shock to all of us. On a distant border, the war and the sinking of INS Khukri brought the war into our messes and wardrooms. We shed tears for our comrades as anger coursed our veins. There was discomfiture. The danger was inherent in our job, but this was surreal.

Entry and departure from the harbour pose the greatest threat. That is where the enemy submarine lurks. Yes, at the convergence points, providing the focus for submarine operations. The submarine prowls, waits like a crocodile, mouth open, listening and waiting. Fear creeps into the heart of every sailor out at sea. Additional lookouts are placed, as every floating object, dolphin, shark or splash that disturbs the water could appear to look like a periscope or portend the arrival of a torpedo.

Enemy submarines and torpedoes were detected every day. They seemed to be all over the Indian Ocean. Such was the fear; such was the underwater threat. The sinking of INS Khukri had a profound effect on the psyche of the sailors at sea. The pleasant waters had suddenly become dark, ominous, and boiling. On the ship's deck, the very brave and the timid had to share the very same space, as if harmonising all fears and courage.

Normal intelligence activity that continues at all times is now in a frenzy. People in uniform shed their uniforms and disguised themselves as hawkers, beggars, and casual labourers. They make an attempt to pick up titbits of information, enter the enemy establishment, seek every detail, every movement of ships, aircraft, or troop formations. Some people do manage to sneak into military establishments, wearing uniforms with false identity cards. They salute smartly and even acknowledge salutes.

One such report reached the naval headquarters, New Delhi. Commander Khan, the commanding officer of the Pakistani submarine, PNS Ghazi, took an oath in Karachi, 'I shall not return without sinking VIKRANT.'

The threat was real, the intention clear, and the resolved firm.

It was General Patton who addressed the troops before the battle in the war, 'I do not want you to die for your country. I want the other poor, dumb bastard to die for his country.'

The departure of a ship or a submarine cannot be kept a secret. A fisherman catching fish or a boat with a man watching through a binocular can report the movement or the absence of a ship. The sailing of Ghazi was reported and registered in the operations room at the naval headquarters, New Delhi.

The Hunt

The hunt for Ghazi had begun. Where was Ghazi? That was the puzzle. No one had any clue. Merchant ships, trawlers, aircraft and every possible reconnaissance effort was initiated.

Commander Khan was wily and smart. He cleverly avoided all detection. The bold and fierce resolve by the captain of PNS Ghazi had given us a clear indication that the enemy would be both daring and resourceful. It could also mean he would take abnormal risks. Normally the enemy's intention is a closely guarded secret. Where, when, and how would they strike is difficult to decipher. There are deception plans; plans worked to deceive, conceal the intention, and strike where you least expect. The plan worked out by the Indian Navy was not only brilliant but classic in execution. It was luring the enemy into your den and compelling him to commit suicide.

Admiral Krishnan, the rotund diminutive man, was the C-in-C, Eastern Naval Command. He was a lion with an elephant gait. No one dared cross his path. Admiral Krishnan addressed his staff in the secret OPS room.

'Gentleman, we can meet the threat posed by Ghazi.'

When Admiral Krishnan speaks, you listen. No one seeks clarification.

Admiral Krishnan allowed the crisp message to sink in. Then, in a booming voice, he declared, 'We do not protect Vikrant; we hide Vikrant!'

Hide an elephant in the open ocean!

The question was not asked, but he answered.

'Yes, gentleman, we have no protection against Ghazi. So we hide her in the Andaman and Nicobar group of islands. Deep, safe waters, far away among hundreds of islands, a safe area. The threat from Ghazi can be met.'

Adm. Krishnan: 'We shall hunt him. I have a plan. As with the shark, he would listen; he would become impatient and mad. A shark goes into a frenzy when it smells blood and that is the plan.'

No one could understand what the C-in-C had indicated. Nobody dared question him; you don't do that to Adm. Krishnan. They waited with bated breath. They did what they normally do. They waited for exposition.

Adm. Krishnan laid out the master plan. Admiral Krishnan: 'Potel OKG Nair.' Nothing registered. Potel OKG Nair, a junior telegraphist, came forward.