The History of Submarines

• Introduction
• Chapter 1 Early Concepts and Underwater Dreams
• Chapter 2 The Turtle: A Revolutionary War Pioneer
• Chapter 3 The 19th Century: Inventors and Innovators
• Chapter 4 The American Civil War: The Hunley's Fateful Mission
• Chapter 5 John Holland and the Dawn of the Modern Submarine
• Chapter 6 The Great War: The U-Boat Menace
• Chapter 7 Anti-Submarine Warfare in World War I
• Chapter 8 The Interwar Years: Treaties and Technological Leaps
• Chapter 9 World War II: The Battle of the Atlantic
• Chapter 10 German Wolf Packs and the Type VII U-Boat
• Chapter 11 The Pacific Theater: American Fleet Boats Take Their Toll
• Chapter 12 The Midget Submarine: Covert Attacks and Special Missions
• Chapter 13 The Dawn of the Nuclear Age: USS Nautilus
• Chapter 14 The "Silent Service": Life Aboard a Submarine
• Chapter 15 The Cold War: Hunter-Killers and Cat-and-Mouse Games
• Chapter 16 The Ballistic Missile Submarine: Deterrence from the Deep
• Chapter 17 Soviet Submarine Power: Titans of the Deep
• Chapter 18 Tragedies Under the Sea: Thresher, Scorpion, and Kursk
• Chapter 19 Deep Submergence: Exploration and Rescue Vehicles
• Chapter 20 The Rise of Air-Independent Propulsion (AIP)
• Chapter 21 Modern Attack Submarines: From Los Angeles to Astute
• Chapter 22 Espionage and Intelligence Gathering from Below
• Chapter 23 Unmanned Underwater Vehicles (UUVs): The New Frontier
• Chapter 24 The Submarine in Popular Culture
• Chapter 25 The Future of Undersea Warfare

The deep, dark expanses of the world's oceans have captivated the human imagination for millennia. Long before we possessed the means to explore them, myths and legends populated these mysterious realms with fantastical creatures and lost cities. Ancient tales, like that of Alexander the Great's supposed descent into the sea in a glass barrel, reveal a persistent curiosity about the world beneath the waves. This enduring fascination with the unknown, this innate drive to see what lies beyond the shimmering surface, is the very seed from which the story of the submarine grows. It is a history not just of a machine, but of a relentless human ambition to conquer a final, formidable frontier on our own planet.

The path from fanciful dream to functional submersible was a long and arduous one, stretching over centuries of intellectual and engineering struggle. The initial concepts were born not in shipyards, but in the minds of visionary thinkers. Leonardo da Vinci, the quintessential Renaissance man, sketched ideas for a vessel that could travel underwater in the 1500s but, fearing the destructive power he might unleash, kept his designs secret. It was an English mathematician, William Bourne, who first laid out a viable scientific principle for a submersible in 1578, proposing a craft in a wooden frame covered with waterproof leather that could be submerged by contracting its volume. While Bourne's design never left the page, it ignited a spark.

The 17th century saw these theoretical musings take physical form. In the service of England's King James I, the Dutch inventor Cornelis Drebbel constructed what is widely considered the first navigable submarine between 1620 and 1624. This was no sleek, weaponized craft, but a leather-clad wooden rowboat, propelled by oarsmen and tested in the River Thames. Though it proved the concept was possible, its practical application remained elusive. Subsequent early designs dabbled with ingenious, if not always successful, methods of submergence and propulsion. An 18th-century English inventor patented a system using goatskin bags as ballast tanks, a primitive forerunner of modern systems, while another pioneer, Yefim Nikonov, built a military submarine for Russia's Peter the Great, designed to attack ships with a form of incendiary weapon.

It was the crucible of war, however, that truly accelerated the submarine's development from an inventor's curiosity into a weapon of strategic importance. The American Revolutionary War witnessed the first documented use of a submarine in combat with David Bushnell's Turtle. This one-man, hand-powered vessel, shaped rather like a walnut, attempted to attach explosives to the hulls of British warships in New York Harbor. Though its missions were ultimately unsuccessful, the Turtle represented a profound shift in naval thinking. The idea of a stealthy, unseen attacker rising from the depths had been unleashed upon the world. The 19th century became a fertile ground for innovators, with names like Robert Fulton, who built the Nautilus for France, and the Confederacy's Horace Lawson Hunley, whose eponymous vessel achieved the grim milestone of being the first submarine to sink an enemy ship in combat during the American Civil War.

The turn of the 20th century marked the true dawn of the modern submarine. The convergence of several key technologies—most notably the reliable internal combustion engine for surface propulsion, the electric motor for submerged travel, and the self-propelled torpedo—transformed the submarine from a dangerous novelty into a formidable weapon system. The designs of Irish-American inventor John Philip Holland, whose USS Holland was commissioned by the U.S. Navy in 1900, are considered the direct ancestors of the submarines that would soon prowl the oceans. This new generation of diesel-electric submarines had greater range, endurance, and lethality than anything that had come before.

No conflict would demonstrate the submarine's strategic impact more devastatingly than the First World War. Germany's U-boats, waging unrestricted warfare on Allied merchant shipping, nearly starved Great Britain into submission and introduced a new, terrifying dimension to naval conflict. The sinking of passenger liners like the Lusitania turned public opinion and highlighted the submarine's ability to strike not just at military targets, but at the economic heart of a nation. The "Great War" established the submarine as a critical component of any major navy, sparking a desperate technological race between submarine and anti-submarine forces that would continue for decades.

In the Second World War, submarine warfare was conducted on a truly global and industrial scale. In the Atlantic, German U-boat "wolf packs" hunted Allied convoys in a brutal, protracted battle that became central to the war's outcome. Simultaneously, in the vast expanses of the Pacific, it was the United States' fleet of long-range submarines that systematically dismantled the Japanese merchant marine, crippling the island nation's ability to supply its forces and sustain its war economy. Submarines on all sides also undertook a variety of other missions, from reconnaissance and landing special forces to laying mines and attacking heavily defended warships.

The post-war era brought the most profound transformation in the submarine's history: the advent of nuclear power. The launch of the USS Nautilus in 1954 was a technological leap as significant as the shift from sail to steam. For the first time, a vessel could remain submerged for weeks, even months, on end, its endurance limited only by the crew's food supplies and fortitude. This created the "true submarine," a craft that was more at home beneath the waves than on the surface. The nuclear submarine became the ultimate stealth weapon, capable of traversing the globe undetected at high speeds.

This technological revolution occurred against the backdrop of the Cold War, a period of intense ideological and military competition between the United States and the Soviet Union. In this tense new world, the submarine assumed a role of paramount strategic importance. Two distinct but equally vital types of nuclear submarines emerged: the fast attack submarine (SSN) and the ballistic missile submarine (SSBN). The SSNs became the "hunter-killers," tasked with tracking and, if necessary, destroying enemy submarines and surface fleets in a tense, underwater "cat-and-mouse" game.

The SSBNs, meanwhile, became the most survivable leg of the nuclear triad, forming the backbone of the deterrence strategy known as Mutually Assured Destruction. These massive submarines, armed with dozens of long-range ballistic missiles tipped with nuclear warheads, represented an unassailable second-strike capability. Hidden in the ocean's depths, they could unleash city-destroying devastation even if their home nation had been obliterated in a surprise attack. The "boomers," as they were known, became silent, invisible guarantors of a precarious global peace, their patrols a constant, hidden feature of the Cold War landscape.

Life aboard these underwater vessels, often referred to as the "Silent Service," fostered a unique and demanding culture. Submariners, living in cramped quarters for months at a time, relied on intense training, discipline, and camaraderie to endure the psychological and physical challenges of their environment. The submarine itself is a self-contained world, a complex ecosystem of machinery and humanity sealed against the immense pressure of the deep. It is a place of perpetual twilight, governed by the hum of machinery and the ever-present awareness of the crushing weight of the sea just inches away.

Yet, for all its technological sophistication, the submarine has never been immune to tragedy. The history of undersea travel is punctuated by catastrophic accidents that serve as stark reminders of the unforgiving nature of the deep ocean. The losses of vessels like the USS Thresher and Scorpion, and the Russian submarine Kursk, sent shockwaves through their respective nations and the global naval community, prompting intensive investigations and driving improvements in safety and rescue technology. These disasters underscored the inherent risks of operating in an environment fundamentally hostile to human life.

Beyond the realm of warfare and deterrence, the technologies developed for submarines have opened up new avenues for science and exploration. Deep Submergence Vehicles (DSVs) have allowed humanity to visit the most remote and inaccessible parts of our planet, from the abyssal plains to hydrothermal vents teeming with strange life forms. These vehicles, both manned and unmanned, are the modern-day equivalents of the great exploratory sailing ships, pushing the boundaries of human knowledge and offering unprecedented glimpses into the geology and biology of the deep ocean.

The evolution of the submarine continues unabated. The development of Air-Independent Propulsion (AIP) systems has granted non-nuclear submarines a degree of stealth and endurance previously unattainable, allowing them to remain submerged for weeks rather than days. Meanwhile, modern nuclear attack submarines, from the American Virginia class to the British Astute class, are marvels of engineering—quieter, faster, and more versatile than ever before, capable of intelligence gathering, special operations, and land-attack missions with cruise missiles.

Now, we stand at the threshold of a new era in undersea operations. The rise of Unmanned Underwater Vehicles (UUVs) promises to revolutionize both naval warfare and ocean exploration once again. These autonomous or remotely-operated robots can perform tasks too dull, dirty, or dangerous for manned submarines, from mine countermeasures and persistent surveillance to deep-sea mapping and scientific data collection. The integration of UUVs with traditional submarines is poised to extend their reach and capabilities exponentially, creating a future of crewed-uncrewed teaming beneath the waves.

The submarine has also secured a permanent and powerful place in our popular culture. From the fantastical adventures of Jules Verne's Nautilus to the tense Cold War thrillers of Tom Clancy and blockbuster films like Das Boot and The Hunt for Red October, the submarine has served as a potent symbol of adventure, claustrophobia, technological prowess, and the hidden tensions of modern warfare. It is a setting that inherently breeds drama, a self-contained world where a small crew navigates immense danger in the silent, unforgiving depths. This cultural fascination reflects the submarine's unique status as a machine that operates on the very edge of human experience.

This book will navigate the currents of this long and fascinating history. From the earliest philosophical musings to the cutting-edge robotic vehicles of tomorrow, we will trace the submarine's journey. It is a story of brilliant inventors, courageous crews, and transformative technologies. It is a tale of strategic revolution, of how a weapon once dismissed as a novelty came to dominate naval warfare and hold the fate of nations in its silent, unseen grasp. It is the story of humanity's enduring quest to master the depths, a journey into the dark, silent world beneath the waves.

The dream of moving beneath the water is nearly as old as humanity’s relationship with the sea itself. Long before the first rivet was hammered into a steel hull, the concept of underwater travel flickered in the realm of myth and imagination. Cultures across the globe, separated by vast oceans, populated the depths with gods, monsters, and sunken cities, from the Japanese dragon palace of Ryūgū-jō to the lost island of Atlantis described by Plato. These tales betrayed a universal human impulse: a desire not only to sail upon the waves but to penetrate the mysterious world beneath them, to see what lay hidden in the deep.

Perhaps the most persistent of these ancient legends is that of Alexander the Great’s descent into the sea. The story, which grew and changed over centuries, typically involves the Macedonian conqueror, driven by his insatiable curiosity, being lowered into the ocean in a sealed glass barrel or bell. In some versions, his aim was purely exploration; in others, it was to survey the defenses of a besieged city or to foolishly extend his dominion over the fishes. Medieval illustrations often show him surrounded by wondrous sea creatures, observing a world no surface dweller had ever seen. While purely fictional, the tale of Alexander’s dive reveals a foundational yearning to overcome the boundary between air and water, a dream that would echo through the centuries, waiting for technology to catch up with imagination.

The transition from myth to mechanics began in the fertile intellectual climate of the Renaissance. It was an age when artists were engineers and science was intertwined with philosophy. Among the era's great minds, Leonardo da Vinci turned his gaze to the problem of underwater travel. In his voluminous notebooks, among sketches of flying machines and anatomical studies, are designs for a submersible craft. His concepts were remarkably prescient, featuring a sealed hull and potential systems for ballast and propulsion. But Leonardo was troubled by his own ingenuity. He ultimately chose to keep his full designs a secret, writing that he would not publish them "because of the evil nature of men" who would undoubtedly use such a device for "assassination at the bottom of the sea." It was a startling moment of foresight, a recognition that this new technology, once unleashed, would forever change the nature of conflict.

While Leonardo wrestled with the moral implications of his ideas, an English mathematician and former Royal Navy gunner named William Bourne was the first to lay out a practical, scientific principle for a submersible. In his 1578 book, Inventions or Devises, Bourne described a craft with a wooden frame covered in waterproofed leather. Crucially, he moved beyond simple diving bells and proposed a method for actively submerging and resurfacing. His design rejected the still far-off concept of flooding ballast tanks. Instead, he envisioned a system of hand-operated presses that would contract the vessel’s flexible leather sides, reducing its total volume and causing it to sink. Relaxing the presses would allow the vessel to expand, increase its buoyancy, and rise. Though his design was never built, Bourne had articulated the fundamental challenge of submarine design: controlled, variable buoyancy.

The 17th century saw Bourne's theoretical principles brought to life by a brilliant and somewhat theatrical Dutch inventor named Cornelis Drebbel. Working in England under the patronage of King James I, Drebbel was a polymath renowned for creating everything from self-regulating ovens to compound microscopes. Between 1620 and 1624, he constructed what is widely considered the first navigable submarine. His vessel was an evolution of Bourne's idea: a wooden-framed boat, likely a modified rowboat, covered in greased leather to ensure it was watertight. Propulsion came from oarsmen, whose oars passed through flexible leather seals in the hull, allowing them to row while submerged.

Drebbel built at least three of these submersibles, each larger than the last. The final version was said to have six oars and could carry 16 passengers. He staged a series of remarkable public demonstrations in the River Thames, witnessed by thousands of Londoners. His craft successfully navigated for up to three hours at a depth of 12 to 15 feet, reportedly traveling from Westminster to Greenwich and back. The spectacle was so impressive that, according to legend, King James I himself took a short ride in the vessel, making him the first monarch to travel underwater. Despite these successful trials, the Royal Navy remained unconvinced of its military application, and the invention was never put to use in combat.

One of the most intriguing aspects of Drebbel’s submarine was his claimed solution to the problem of breathable air. Accounts from the time, including those from respected scientists like Robert Boyle, suggest Drebbel had a "chemical liquor" or "quintessence of air" that could refresh the atmosphere inside the sealed vessel. Boyle, after speaking with Drebbel’s son-in-law, concluded that Drebbel understood that only a certain part of the air was necessary for respiration. When this "spirit of life" was used up, Drebbel would unstop a container of his mysterious liquid, which would restore the air. While the exact chemical composition is lost to history, it has been plausibly suggested that he was heating saltpetre (potassium nitrate), a reaction that releases oxygen. If true, Drebbel was not only a pioneer of submersible navigation but also of life support systems, over 150 years before the formal discovery of oxygen.

Drebbel’s work did not occur in a vacuum. The idea of underwater travel was beginning to percolate through scientific circles in Europe. The Scottish mathematician John Napier, inventor of logarithms, hinted at designs for underwater vessels in a book published in 1596, though it is unclear if he ever attempted to build one. In France, the physicist and priest Marin Mersenne corresponded with his contemporaries about the possibility, and another Frenchman, Jean Barrié, allegedly constructed a submersible in 1645. Further south, the Italian physicist Giovanni Borelli sketched a design in 1680 that featured an ingenious method of buoyancy control using goatskins. The operator would fill the skins with water to submerge the craft and then force the water out with a twisting rod to resurface, a clear forerunner of the modern ballast tank.

While many of these early efforts were driven by scientific curiosity, the military potential Leonardo da Vinci had feared was becoming increasingly apparent. In Russia, an illiterate but talented shipyard carpenter named Yefim Nikonov caught the attention of Tsar Peter the Great. In 1718, Nikonov petitioned the Tsar, promising to build a "secret vessel" that could move unseen beneath the waves and destroy enemy warships. Intrigued, Peter the Great summoned Nikonov to St. Petersburg and gave him the resources to pursue his project. By 1721, a small prototype was ready for testing. Though one test ended with the vessel getting stuck on the bottom and needing to be hauled up by the Tsar's men, Peter remained supportive and ordered the construction of a full-sized version.

Nikonov’s finished craft, completed in 1724, was shaped like a large wooden barrel, over six meters long and bound with iron hoops. Its submersion system involved ten tin plates with small holes that allowed water to fill leather bags, while a copper pump was used to expel the water for surfacing. Its proposed weaponry was particularly aggressive. Nikonov envisioned "fiery copper pipes," likely a type of flamethrower, to attack ships from below. He also designed an early form of airlock and a diving suit so a crewman could exit the vessel underwater to sabotage the hull of an enemy ship. Sadly for Nikonov, his great patron, Peter the Great, died in 1725. The project lost its funding, the vessel was left to rot, and Nikonov himself was demoted and sent to a remote shipyard.

The 18th century continued to see a steady stream of inventors and schemers trying their hand at building a workable submersible. By 1727, at least 14 patents for such devices had been granted in England alone. One notable English design from 1747, patented by Nathaniel Symons, revisited the idea of flexible bags for ballast. His craft used leather bags that filled with water to submerge and a mechanism to squeeze the water out to resurface, another important step toward a functional ballast system.

However, this era of enthusiastic, if sometimes reckless, invention was not without its casualties. The first recorded fatality in a submarine occurred in June 1774 and served as a grim reminder of the dangers involved. An English carpenter named John Day, backed by a gambler named Christopher Blake, constructed a "diving chamber" attached to a 50-ton sloop named the Maria. Day made a wager that he could submerge to a depth of 130 feet in Plymouth Sound and remain there for 12 hours. Taking only a candle, some water, and biscuits, he was sealed inside the chamber. The craft was then loaded with tons of ballast and promptly sank. Day never resurfaced. He had catastrophically miscalculated the pressures and forces involved, and his vessel was likely crushed by the weight of the sea. John Day’s tragic end highlighted the immense gap that still existed between the dream of underwater navigation and the harsh physical realities of the deep. It was a brutal lesson that would be learned again and again as pioneers continued to push the limits of this new and unforgiving frontier.