The first practicable idea for a vessel capable of reaching the bottom of the ocean came from an eccentric European scientist who served as a balloonist in the Swiss Army in the First World War. Auguste Piccard was at the center of the “excitement and turmoil that physics was experiencing” one hundred years ago. Piccard “rubbed elbows with” Albert Einstein, Max Born, and Marie Curie, among other revolutionary scientists and explorers.
“Opening the Great Depths” opens with a get-together in New York hosted by Amelia Earhart, where Piccard meets fellow adventurer Charles Lindbergh. Piccard envisioned a metal “balloon” that could sink to the bottom of the ocean and then –– with a system of lead pellets and petroleum as ballast –– be able to float back to the surface.
Auguste Piccard’s development of the first bathyscaphe, spelled “bathyscaph” by Polmar and Mathers (who also present measurements the English rather than metric system), is a story of international cooperation. The first working bathyscaphe was funded by King Leopold of Belgium. Development was led by scientists in Switzerland and supported by the French Navy. It was built in Italy and tested in Portuguese territorial waters and near the Horn of Africa.
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Lieutenant Larry Shumaker, Assistant Officer in Charge; Lieutenant Donald Walsh, Officer in Charge; Dr. Andreas B. Rechnitzer, Scientist in Charge; Jacques Piccard, Co-Designer and Technical Advisor of Bathyscaphe Trieste, Nov. 16, 1959. |
Jacques Piccard, Auguste’s son, took over for his father and accelerated development of Trieste, named for the town in Italy where it was built. The younger Piccard, who stood 6’5” according to John Craven, reached out to coordinate directly with the United States Navy in further development of the new technology. The Navy acquired Trieste in the mid 1950s through the new Office of Naval Research.
ONR was created after the end of World War II and the beginning of the Cold War. With a bathyscaphe, the “Navy would gain the capability to operate in the deepest ocean depths.” Exploration of the ocean’s depths would be spurred by the Soviet Union’s advances in space, leading to the launch of Sputnik in 1957.
In late 1958, a young submarine officer who saw himself stuck behind a desk in an administrative billet at Submarine Flotilla 1, volunteered to oversea, operate, and maintain Trieste. Lt. Don Walsh conducted the first dives near San Diego. Trieste was “re-welded to Navy standards” and readied for deep dives off Guam. Other key members of the early dives were Dr. Andy Rechnitzer, Navy Lt. Lawrence Shumaker, Giuseppe Buono, and Jacques Piccard.
Polmar and Mathers provide a brief history of discovery of the deepest trenches in the ocean. Their book is comprehensive and detailed, often reading like a logbook filled with names of personnel, places, support ships, and missions. The authors describe “white” and “black” operations, focused on finding either U.S. or Soviet debris or equipment on the ocean bottom.
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Walsh and Piccard aboard Trieste |
The Navy first deployed the Trieste, in part, to search for life at the deepest part of the ocean for a specific purpose: “Was there a depth below which complex life could not survive? The answer to that question might determine whether the deep-ocean trenches would be used for the long-term disposal of radioactive and other hazardous waste material.”
In the best chapter in the book, Polmar and Mathers describe the tension as Piccard and Walsh took a long “elevator ride” through the thermocline, passing two layers of phosphorescent plankton, and heading into the hadal depths for the first time. The bathyscaphe suffered small leaks and a cracked entry tube window. The temperature inside the bathyscaphe was 45 degrees Fahrenheit. Piccard and Walsh ate chocolate bars and peered out as best as they could, unsure when the bottom would appear. After more than four and half hours they reached the “six-three hundred fathoms” –– 37,800 feet, significantly deeper than anticipated.
Their discovery of “a shrimp and a fleet of madusae proved that the ocean’s deepest depths contain complex life forms.” Piccard thought he saw a "sole" on the bottom, but that sighting was unlikely a fish.
The team received a heroes’ welcome in Guam, Hawaii, and Washington D.C. President Eisenhower presented Piccard, Walsh, Rechnitzer and Shumaker with awards in the presence of Chief of Naval Operations Adm. Arleigh Burke. Lt. Walsh received the Legion of Merit. He would go on to have a distinguished naval career, retiring as a Navy captain. Jacques Piccard, a non-citizen, was awarded the Navy’s Distinguished Public Service Award.
“Piccard was especially proud of a White House letter dated 9 February 1960 that stated in part, ‘As a citizen of Switzerland, a country admired by all the free world for its love of freedom and independence, you have the gratitude of all the people of the United States for helping to further open the doors of this important scientific field. Sincerely, Dwight D. Eisenhower.”
As the general who led the liberation of Europe from Nazi fascism in WWII, Eisenhower was revered in the free world. America’s commitment to international cooperation –– along with a “major influx of American dollars through the U.S. government’s Marshall Plan” –– led directly and indirectly to the development of shipyards, refineries, and research that helped build the Trieste bathyscaphe.
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President Eisenhower dines in the crew's mess aboard USS Seawolf (SSN-575) off Newport, Rhode Island, Sept. 26, 1957. With him are Chief Hospital Corpsman Milton W. Tucker; Press Secretary James Hagerty (partially visible); and Seaman Apprentice W.J. Dooling, the youngest man in Seawolf's crew. (NHHC) |
Meantime, the Cold War and space race were heating up at the end of the 1950s and through the 1960s, where relations with the Soviet Union were about competition, not cooperation.
The Navy saw that “advancing undersea technology was vital to the security of the United States,” according to Polmar and Mathers. “Classified operations for the Trieste were suggested in the summer of 1961.” The Navy, Air Force, and CIA reportedly considered using Trieste to locate and retrieve debris from the ocean floor.
Trieste was deployed for the search of the USS Thresher (SSN-593), a nuclear-powered submarine lost 220 miles east of Boston on Apr. 10, 1963. The Navy was concerned about the sub’s nuclear reactor “potentially contaminating waters close to the U.S. eastern seaboard,” according to the authors. “And, the Navy had to examine the wreckage in an effort to determine the cause of her loss.”
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"Overhaul and Refiitting Bathyscaphe Trieste," painting, watercolor on paper, Salvatore Indiviglia, 1961. (NHHC) |
Unfortunately, the Trieste itself was subject to numerous casualties and limitations over the years, including fires, leaks, corrosion, mechanical failures, insufficient battery power, and propulsion motor issues –– a “maintenance nightmare.” Mare Island Naval Shipyard architects, under the supervision of chief design engineer Herbert L. Graybeal, designed a more advanced float that was stronger and safer. The Trieste II was born. Eventually three versions of Trieste would serve, but nomenclature was (perhaps deliberately) confusing for what would be Trieste, Trieste II, Trieste III, and/or DSV-1. For simplicity, I’ll refer to all versions of the Trieste bathyscaphe throughout this review as “Trieste.”
As the Cold War heated up, on May 28, 1964, Secretary of the Navy Paul H. Nitze assigned Trieste and the Deep Submergence Program to the Special Projects Office. The “Deep Submergence Systems Project” became a separate agency under the direction of chief scientist Dr. John Piña Craven. (Craven is a descendant of a long line of Navy officers; he served as an enlisted battleship sailor in World War II, and he earned his PhD with help from the G.I. Bill. Craven's Special Projects team developed the Polaris Fleet Ballistic Missile.)
Among other duties leading DSSP, Dr. Craven headed the recovery effort for a hydrogen bomb that had fallen near Palomares after a U.S. Air Force B-25G strategic bomber collided with a refueling tanker off Spain’s Mediterranean coast on January 17, 1966.
USS Scorpion (SSN-589) outside Claywall Harbor, Naples, Italy, 10 April 1968, one of the last known photos of Scorpion before the submarine was lost with all hands in May 1968 while returning to the U.S. from this Mediterranean deployment (NHHC).
Chapter 14 of “Opening the Great Depths” begins with this chilling line: “The year 1968 was a very bad year for submarines.” The authors refer to the losses of Israel’s diesel-electric submarine Dakar and France’s Minerve, both lost in the Mediterranean; the Soviet Golf II ballistic missile submarine K-129, lost in the Pacific; and the USS nuclear-propelled submarine Scorpion (SSN-589), lost in the North Atlantic. Even the U.S. Navy’s deep submersible Alvin, operated by Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution, was lost off the coast of Massachusetts in October, 1968. Response to any recovery operations was complicated by events on the world’s stage involving the Navy: the War in Vietnam and North Korea’s seizure of the U.S. intelligence ship USS Pueblo (AGER-2).
Polmar and Mathers present the history of Trieste’s role in the late 60s matter-of-factly with emphasis on personnel, dates, stats, and details. For a more personal account and for context, readers may want to do what I did and turn to Craven’s “The Silent War.” Craven writes about his lead role in the search for USS Scorpion and then the clandestine search for the missing Soviet submarine.
Always the innovative thinker, Craven proposed a way to go inside a sunk submarine. According to Polmar and Mathers, “Dr. Craven’s idea was that a vehicle small enough to enter one of the Scorpion’s 21-inch torpedo tube might help to determine if her loss had been caused by an internal or external torpedo explosion.” That idea resulted in “flying eyeballs” developed by the Naval Undersea Center in San Diego.
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USS Ruchamkin (APD-89) in Hampton Roads, Virginia, with USS Mountrail (APA-213) beyond, Jan. 16, 1967. (NHHC) |
Fifty-three years ago this month, above the site of the USS Scorpion, Craven and his team were aboard the support ship USS Ruchamkin (APD-89) when Neil Armstrong stepped onto the moon, July 20, 1968. They listened to Voice of America's report and thought of how their efforts at reaching the limits of inner space coincided with what was happening in outer space. After all, their team had reached the deepest part of the ocean less than ten years earlier.
“Dr. Craven recorded that when Armstrong placed his foot onto the Moon’s surface everyone in the wardroom thrust their hands above their head –– a sporting celebration for ‘score!’ An anonymous voice shouted out, ‘No, dammit, no! Two small steps!,’ referring to Trieste’s simultaneous work at a depth of 11,100 feet.”
On July 30, the team retrieved some debris from the Scorpion, including the ship’s sextant. Subsequent testing showed that the main battery had exploded; the submarine was not torpedoed.
Trieste and the Deep Submergence Program entered the 1970s in “neglect and decline,” a period when funding trickled away, support evaporated, and billets dwindled. The future would be with unmanned vessels. Nevertheless, Trieste and other submersibles were used in recovery operations off Hawaii as well as monitoring for radiation contamination from transponders near Midway Atoll.
The Navy’s eccentric and ubiquitous Adm. Hyman G. Rickover, who headed the Naval Reactors Directorate, had the bathyscaphe deployed in response to the Marine Protection, Research and Sanctuaries Act of 1972. The mission: investigate USS Seawolf’s nuclear reactor, which had been dumped in 1959 in 9,000 feet of ocean 120 nautical miles off the East Coast.
Among Trieste’s last missions was a series of dives in the eastern Pacific off Acapulco, southern Mexico at a depth of 16,141 feet. The expedition was part of an effort to investigate plate tectonic dynamics, according to Polmar and Mathers. “The effort sought to identify a permanent disposal site for high-grade nuclear waste –– radioactive waste with half-lives in hundreds or thousands of years.”
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Acclaimed filmmaker James Cameron, left, and Dr. Don Walsh, a retired U.S. Navy captain, stand at the Trieste research bathyscaphe, which reached the deepest known part of the earth's oceans, the Challenger Deep in the Mariana Trench near Guam, on Jan. 23, 1960. Lt. Don Walsh and scientist Jacques Piccard were original pilots of Trieste, which is now at the National Museum of the United States Navy at the Washington Navy Yard. Cameron piloted his Deepsea Challenger nearly seven miles to Challenger Deep on March 26, 2012. Cameron donated Deepsea Challenger to the Woods Hole Oceanographic Institute in Massachusetts. (MC1 Gina K Morrissette) |
Polmar and Mathers wrap up their book with a "post script" mentioning the recent history of deep submersibles, where unmanned vessels have taken over but where people still have a role, including filmmaker James Cameron, astronaut Kathryn D. Sullivan, scientist Howard P. Talkington, and explorer Cmdr. Victor Vescovo, USNR (Ret.).
The authors provide an important history for readers interested in undersea research. This book includes a personal perspective in its foreword by “U.S. Submersible Pilot No. 1” Don Walsh, Captain, U.S. Navy (Ret.), PHD. It also has an introduction from author Polmar; glossaries of abbreviations and designations; comprehensive notes, a bibliography, and two indexes.
"Opening's" dedication, which is similar to the conclusion of Craven’s indispensable “The Silent War,” reads: “This book is dedicated to the adventurers and scientists, both military and civilian, who in frail craft challenge the Earth’s most inhospitable environment –– the deep ocean.”