Despite the possibility of conflict in the Far East arising from the insidious spread of Communism fostered by the Chinese, the biggest maritime threat to the Western alliance of NATO at that time was that of over three hundred Soviet submarines. Considering that Hitler only possessed some forty operational U-boats at the outbreak of war in 1939, the Russians had profited from the German example, fully aware of the close-run nature of the outcome of the Battle of the Atlantic. The Soviet Union’s submarine force, principally operating out of the Northern Fleet base at Polyanoe near Murmansk and increasing in numbers of nuclear boats, had the potential to seriously threaten the lines of communication across the world’s oceans, but chiefly the North Atlantic. However, in the early 1960s the Royal Navy was principally focused upon Far and Middle East operations as opposed to putting the greatest proportion of its resources into Cold War containment, this task principally being that of the British Army on the Rhine (BAOR) and the Royal Air Force. In general, the Russians were not inclined to venture far from their own waters to any degree and arrayed against their submarines there was a large, if polyglot, NATO antisubmarine force which numbered in total hundreds of escorts, maritime patrol aircraft, submarines and helicopters.
Dan Conley joined the Royal Navy in 1963 through a cadet scholarship scheme. A Scottish grammar school boy from an Argyll fishing family, following the precedent of several generations of his forebears, he was set on a career at sea. An infant of the post-war baby boom, Conley had been born in Edinburgh in September 1946. His father finished his war serving in motor torpedo boats in the Far East, where hostilities did not end until August 1945 and demobilisation was slow to follow. He then returned to his traditional job, that of a herring fisherman who hunted fish for a living. The family owned a herring trawler which operated from Campbeltown on the southeast tip of the Kintyre Peninsula, Argyllshire. The port boasted a local fishing fleet of about fifty boats which, together with its supporting infrastructure, formed the town’s principal source of employment. Like all who live close to the sea, the young Conley was impressed by its awesome power in wild weather and the risks involved in making a living from fishing although, remarkably, serious accidents were few and far between in the Clyde herring fleet.
Clyde-based submarines frequently visited Campbeltown, allowing their off-duty men an evening’s run ashore. Black, sleek and sinister, they inevitably attracted local attention, particularly on the part of curious boys who would rush down to the pier to watch as they came alongside. One stormy evening such a visiting submarine ran aground in the approaches to Campbeltown harbour, an event marked by a framed picture in a local hostelry of a postman in wellington boots, accompanied by his dog, standing underneath her bows delivering mail. Conley developed an early admiration for the crews, fascinated by their air of professional swagger that carried with it more than a hint of the buccaneer. Perhaps most influential was their demonstrable and characteristic cheerfulness. Later, these insights would prove influential in his decision to become a submariner.
Campbeltown was also often used as the forward base for the trials of the high test peroxide (HTP) propelled submarines, Explorer and Excalibur. Both had acquired a reputation, owing to the tendency of the volatile HTP to catch fire or explode. Nevertheless, hints that these submarines were capable of very high submerged speed added to the appeal of the Silent Service.
The appearance of submarines in the tranquil waters of the loch only emphasised the existence of a world beyond the horizon that remained inextricably linked with the upheavals and separations which occurred after the Second World War. During their schooldays Conley and his contemporaries were well aware of the nuclear threat posed by the ideological hostility of the Soviet Union, not least through the activities of the civil defence organisation which included occasional radio or television information programmes and the distribution of leaflets describing in facile terms how to contend with a nuclear strike — hiding under the staircase or the dining-room table — and its fearsome aftermath of radiation risk. To a boy, however, such horrors seemed remote, and were easily forgotten.
In 1954 Conley’s father became seriously ill. Although he recovered after a prolonged convalescence, he was no longer able to work at sea; his fishing career was over. The family boat was sold and in the summer of 1955 the family moved to Glasgow. Here Conley passed the eleven-plus examination and attended grammar school, where his education continued to be first-rate, but he conceived no fondness for the city and decided to join the Royal Navy as a seaman officer as soon as possible. Aged fifteen he applied for a scholarship to Dartmouth and was invited to attend the Royal Navy Reserve headquarters in Leith, where he was granted a preliminary interview by a captain and a rather benign Edinburgh headmaster. An aviator, the captain tested Conley’s knowledge of naval aircraft, while the headmaster assessed the lad’s potential. Conley progressed to the next stage, two days of interviews and tests at the Admiralty interview board in the shore establishment HMS Sultan at Gosport in Hampshire. Opposite Portsmouth itself, Gosport was also the home of another stone frigate, the submarine base HMS Dolphin. One evening the dozen young aspirants comprising Conley’s selection group were taken aboard the new diesel submarine HMS Finwhale, which was lying alongside. Thirteen years later Conley, undergoing commanding officer’s training, was to become better acquainted with the cramped control room of this particular submarine with its myriad of gauges and valves; at the time he was merely awed by its complexity. Subsequent to this unwitting peep into his future, Conley’s full interview process was followed by an extensive medical examination in London, which included very stringent tests of colour vision. A failure in this courted instant rejection.
A few weeks later Conley’s parents received a letter: their son’s application had been successful. Subject to his achieving the required grades in his Scottish Higher examination, he was offered a scholarship. A year later Conley had cleared the final hurdle and, after a further trip to London for pre-entry medical tests and uniform measurements, in September 1963 the seventeen-year-old caught a train to join Britannia Royal Naval College, Dartmouth.
Unlike the other two armed services, or the indenture required of an apprentice in the Merchant Navy, where a formal process was undertaken, Cadet Conley was accepted for training as an executive (seaman) officer on the permanent career General List on the basis of a gentlemen’s agreement.
2
Dartmouth
The sunny afternoon of 17 September 1963 witnessed the arrival of dozens of young men at Kingswear station, in the South Hams of Devon. They walked out of the station and boarded the ferry for the short crossing of the River Dart. Although possessed of a common purpose, all having been selected to train as potential officers for the Royal Navy, they remained individuals, staring about them and catching sight of the glitter of the sun on water, their nostrils filled with the scent of the sea. As soon as they disembarked at Dartmouth on the farther side of the river they began the process of conversion. Met by immaculately — dressed gunnery instructors, chief petty officers in naval uniform, they were ordered to put their luggage into parked lorries and then, with much shouting and direction from the instructors, they were formed into squads and began the march up the steep hill to Britannia Royal Naval College.