Collins Submarine

TH E C OLLINS CLASS SUBMARINE STORY
STEEL, SPIES AND SPIN
A unique and outstanding military and industrial achievement, the

Collins class submarine project was also plagued with difficulties and
mired in politics. Its story is one of heroes and villains, grand passions,
intrigue, lies, spies and backstabbing. It is as well a story of enormous
commitment and resolve to achieve what many thought impossible.
The building of these submarines was Australia’s largest, most

expensive and most controversial military project. From initiation in
the 1981–82 budget to the delivery of the last submarine in 2003, the
total cost was in excess of six billion dollars.
Over 130 key players were interviewed for this book, and the
Australian Defence Department allowed access to its classified archives
and the Australian Navy archives. Vividly illustrated with photographs
from the collections of the Royal Australian Navy and ASC Pty Ltd,
The Collins Class Submarine Story: Steel, Spies and Spin is a riveting
and accessibly written chronicle of a grand-scale quest for excellence.
Peter Yule is a Research Fellow of the History Department of the

University of Melbourne.
Derek Woolner is a Visiting Fellow of the Strategic and Defence Studies

Centre, Australian National University.
THE
COLLINS CLASS
SUBMARINE
STORY
STEEL, SPIES AND SPIN
PETER YULE
DEREK WOOLNER
cambridge university press
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© Peter Yule and Derek Woolner 2008
This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception

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no reproduction of any part may take place without the written
permission of Cambridge University Press.
First published 2008
A catalogue record for this publication is available from the British Library
National Library of Australia Cataloguing in Publication data

Yule, Peter
The Collins Class Submarine story: steel, spies and spin/authors, Peter Yule, Derek
Woolner.
Cambridge; Port Melbourne, Vic.: Cambridge University Press, 2008.
978-0-521-86894-5 (hbk.)
Includes index.
Australia. Royal Australian Navy – Procurement.
Australia. Dept. of Defence – Procurement.
Collins Class (Submarine)
Submarines (Ships) – Australia.
Woolner, Derek, 1946–
359.93830994
isbn 978-0-521-86894-5 Hardback
Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or

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this publication, and does not guarantee that any content on such websites is,
or will remain, accurate or appropriate. Information regarding prices, travel
timetables, and other factual information given in this work is correct at
the time of first printing but Cambridge University Press does not guarantee
the accuracy of such information thereafter.
CONTENTS
List of key people vii

List of acronyms xv
Introduction xvii
PART 1: YOU CAN’T BUILD SUBMARINES

IN AUSTRALIA 1
1. ‘The one class of vessel that it is impossible to build in
Australia’: Australia’s early submarines 3
2. Australia’s Oberon class submarines 11
3. The submarine weapons update program and the
origins of the new submarine project 20
4. The new submarine project 30
5. ‘We can’t build submarines, go away’: Eglo
Engineering and the submarine project 37
6. The acts of the apostles 44
7. ‘But how will you judge them?’: the tender evaluation
process 1984–85 58
8. Spies, leaks and sackings: from tender evaluation to
project definition study 76
9. The project definition study 1985–86 89
10. Debating the laws of physics: picking winners 1987 101
PART 2: THE HONEYMOON YEARS 1987–92 117

11. ‘Keen as mustard to do a good job’: setting to work
1987–89 119
v
vi CONTENTS
12. Designing the Collins class 130

13. Building submarines 142
14. The automated integrated vision 152
15. Steel, sonars and tiles: early technological support for
the submarines 166
16. ‘On time and on budget’ 181
PART 3: ‘A STRANGE SENSE OF UNEASE’ 1993–98 191

17. End of the honeymoon 193
18. The trials of Collins 205
19. ‘They were problems we didn’t expect’ 221
20. The role of Defence Science: noise and diesels 235
21. ‘A patch on this and chewing gum on that’: the combat
system 1993–97 244
PART 4: RESOLUTION 255

22. ‘Hardly a day went by without the project getting a
hammering in the press’: the project in crisis 1997–98 257
23. ‘Bayoneting the wounded’: the McIntosh-Prescott
report 274
24. ‘That villain Briggs’ and the submarine ‘get-well’
program 287
25. ‘Inside the American tent’: the saga of the replacement
combat system 299
26. ‘We’ll do it and get rid of the buggers’: Kockums, ASC
and Electric Boat 310
27. ‘We would find that challenging’: comparison and
retrospect 319
Notes 330
Index 349
LIST OF KEY PEOPLE
Note: date/s of interviews with the authors are indicated in square

brackets following the names listed below.
Carl Johan Åberg, Swedish Minister for Foreign Trade

mid-1980s [10 November 2006]
Marcos Alfonso (Commander RAN), submariner; engineer
HMAS Collins [2 August 2006]
Eoin Asker (Commodore RAN), submariner; fourth Project
Director 1997–2000 [14 June 2006]
Paul Armarego, lawyer for SMCT [16 May 2006]
Jack Atkinson, General Manager Design and Engineering, ASC
[31 March 2006]
Tony Ayers, Secretary, Department of Defence 1988–98
John Bannon, Premier of South Australia 1982–92 [11 July
2006]
Paul Barratt, Secretary, Department of Defence 1998–99
[10 April 2006]
John Batten (Commander RAN), project office; developed
Australian industry involvement policy and contract
management system for project [2 March 2006]
Kim Beazley, Minister for Defence 1984–90 [28 February 2006]
Allan Behm, Defence policy analyst [20 April 2006]
Bo Benell, General Counsel, Kockums [21 November 2006]
Fred Bennett, Chief of Capital Procurement, Department of
Defence 1984–88 [8 March 2007]
Jim Berger, executive, CBI and ASC
Doug Bews, Production Manager, ASC
Kurt Blixt (Major General, Swedish army), Assistant
Under-Secretary for Procurement, Swedish Ministry for
Defence [14 November 2006]
vii
viii LIST OF KEY PEOPLE
Richard Brabin-Smith, Chief Defence Scientist [16 February

2006]
Peter Briggs (Rear Admiral RAN), submariner; submarine policy
maker; head of SMCT [7 March 2006; 18 July 2006]
Pår Bunke, executive, Kockums; Deputy Managing Director,
ASC 1990–93 [18 November 2006]
John Butler (Rear Admiral USN), led American assistance to the
project [1 February 2006]
John Button, Minister for Industry 1983–93 [25 October 2005]
Doug Callow, Senior Engineer, ASC [31 March 2006]
Rick Canham (Captain RAN), submariner; led project team in
Sweden
Roine Carlsson, Swedish Minister for Defence mid-1980s
[14 November 2006]
Laurie Carmichael, Australian Metal Workers Union, ACTU
Tony Carter (Captain RAN), Project Support Manager
Don Chalmers (Vice Admiral RAN), Chief of Navy 1997–99
[17 May 2006]
Graeme Ching, executive, CBI and ASC
Göran Christensson, engineer, Kockums and ASC
Bob Clark, Operational Software Manager, SWSC, project and
DMO [6 October 2006]
Peter Clarke (Rear Admiral RAN), ex-RN submariner; Project
Manager [18 May 2006]
Peter Climas, technical officer, DSTO
Janice Cocking, scientist, DSTO
Colin Cooper, ex-RN submariner; engineer; Combat System
Project Manager [18 April 2007]
Orm Cooper (Captain RAN), director of major procurement
projects in the early 1980s [30 March 2006]
Tim Cox (Commodore RAN), Director General of Maritime
Development [15 November 2006]
Harry Dalrymple (Commodore RAN), Director General of
Naval Design 1980–89 [10 March 2006; 3 April 2006]
Geoff Davis, Managing Director, Wormald Limited; first
Chairman ASC [14 August 2006]
Phil Davis (Rear Admiral USN), led USN assistance to Collins
project [28 February 2007]
Peter Dechaineux (Commodore RAN), engineer; prepared
history of project 1999 [18 May 2006]
LIST OF KEY PEOPLE ix
Paul Dibb, Defence policy strategist [30 May 2006]

John Dickens, scientist, DSTO
Ron Dicker, Dutch submariner; managed Signaal bid; Combat
System Manager, ASC [24 July 2006; 31 August 2006]
John Dikkenberg (Captain RAN), submariner; squadron
commander, test and trials [15 August 2006]
Brian Dixon, scientist, DSTO
Bill Dovers (Rear Admiral RAN), logistics and personnel issues
[30 May 2006]
Jim Duncan (Commander RAN), managed South Australian bid
[27 April 2006]
Mick Dunne (Commodore RAN), submariner; critic of Collins
project [27 April 2006]
Ulf Edman, Swedish submariner; Commodore, Swedish
submarine squadron [14 November 2006]
Martin Edwards, engineer, ASC [10 July 2006]
David Elliston, Commercial Manager at project office [1 March
2006]
Bruce Fairlie, scientist, DSTO
Rod Farrow, Combat System Project Manager, CSA
[19 February 2007]
Rod Fayle (Commander RAN), submariner; Operational
Requirements Manager [26 April 2006]
David Ferguson, lawyer, Minter Ellison; acted for Kockums and
other Swedish companies [22 November 2005]
Mark Gairey, naval architect; sixth Project Director [22 August
2006]
Mike Gallagher (Commander RAN), first CO of Farncomb;
worked for STN and Raytheon [8 August 2006]
Paul Gashler (Captain RAN), Project Support Manager 1988–90
Mark Gobell, engineer, ASC [10 July 2006]
Geoff Goodwin, scientist, DSTO [18 June 2007]
Paul Greenfield (Commodore RAN), submariner; fifth Project
Director [1 March 2006]
Ken Greig (Captain RAN), submariner; Project Manager and
Senior Engineer [1 June 2006]
Steven Gumley, CEO, ASC and DMO [8 June 2006]
Ove Gustafsson, CEO, Pacific Marine Batteries [31 March
2006]
Kenneth Håkansson, welding engineer, Kockums
x LIST OF KEY PEOPLE
John Halfpenny, Secretary, Amalgamated Metal Workers Union

1972–87
Gösta Hardebring, General Manager, Saab Naval Systems
[15 November 2006]
Keith Harper, Project Design Manager 1983–85
Peter Hatcher (Commodore RAN), submariner; Combat System
Development Manager; Project Manager [23 August 2006]
Allan Hawke, Secretary, Department of Defence, 1999–2002
[4 August 2006]
Bill Hicklen, executive, CBI
Peter Hider, Deputy Project Director; negotiated contracts
[22 August 2006]
Ian Hill (Commander RAN), Combat System Project Manager
Robert Hill, Minister for Defence 2001–06
Tomy Hjorth, Managing Director, Kockums; Chairman of ASC
[13 November 2006]
Paddy Hodgman (Captain RAN), Chief Staff Officer to Chief of
Navy 1997–99 [2 March 2006]
Olle Holmdahl, headed Kockums design team; Deputy
Managing Director, ASC [29 August 2006]
Robert Holtsbaum, lawyer, Minter Ellison; acted for Kockums
[17 November 2005]
Peter Horobin (Lieutenant Commander RAN), submariner;
worked as consultant on many aspects of project [7 August
2006]
Mike Houghton (Captain RAN), submariner; engineer; liaison
officer with Kockums [1 February 2006]
Tony Houseman, Contracts Manager, CSA [19 June 2006]
Brian Howe, Minister for Defence Support 1983–84
[25 November 2005]
Mike Hudson (Vice Admiral RAN), Chief of the Navy
1985–91
Oscar Hughes (Rear Admiral RAN), engineer; second Project
Director 1985–93 [16 January 2005; 20 February 2007]
Peter Hugonnet (Captain RAN), submariner; engineer;
responsible for submarine safety system [8 June 2006]
Peter Jennings, Chief of Staff to Minister for Defence 1996–97
[19 July 2006]
John Jeremy, Managing Director, Cockatoo Island Dockyard
1981–91 [23 June 2005; 15 August 2006]
LIST OF KEY PEOPLE xi
Andrew Johnson, combat system software engineer, SWSC and

CSA [22 March 2006; 27 March 2006]
Doug Jones, lawyer, Clayton Utz [8 February 2007]
Garry Jones, Deputy Secretary Acquisition and Logistics,
1994–99
Wal Jurkiewicz, lawyer for SMCT [16 May 2006]
Bruce Kean, CEO, Boral; Director, ASC [12 December 2005]
Al Konetzni (Vice Admiral USN), Commander of Submarine
Force USN
John Kroll, manager, Bisalloy Industrial Steels
Robert Lemonius, senior engineer, ASC [7 August 2006]
John Lewis, DSTO scientist
Hans Peder Loid, naval architect, SSPA Sweden [23 November
2006]
Ian MacDougall (Vice Admiral RAN), first submariner to be
Chief of Navy [16 June 2006]
Malcolm McIntosh, Deputy Secretary Acquisition, co-author
McIntosh-Prescott Report
Ian McLachlan, Minister for Defence 1996–98
Ron McLaren, Project Financial Manager [18 December 2006]
Roger Mansell, executive, Wormald and ASC
Robert Mansfield, corporate raider
Andrew Millar (Commander RAN), staff officer to Project
Director [12 August 2005; 17 January 2006]
Chris Miller, software engineer, CSA [14 August 2006]
Mick Millington, combat system engineer with SWSC and CSA
[8 July 2006]
Ross Milton, executive, CBI and ASC [10 July 2006]
Dennis Mole (Commodore RAN), submariner; head of
submarine squadron [15 August 2006]
John Moore, Minister for Defence 1998–2000 [28 April 2006]
Maurice de Morton, scientist, DSTO
Jim Muth, executive, CBI and ASC
Rick Neilson, combat system engineer with SWSC, Rockwell
and Boeing [5 July 2006]
Ian Noble (Captain RAN), Operational Technical Requirements
Manager [22 August 2006]
Chris Norwood, scientist, DSTO [12 June 2007]
Hans Ohff, engineer; Managing Director of Eglo Engineering
and ASC [6 February 2006; 9 February 2007]
xii LIST OF KEY PEOPLE
Gunnar Öhlund, Technical Director, Kockums [17 November

2006]
David Oldfield, scientist, DSTO [5 May 2006]
John O’Neill, executive, Kockums and ASC
Bill Owen (Captain RAN), ex-RN submariner; Director of
Submarine Policy 1971–76; head of submarine squadron
1976–79; critic of Collins project [16 May 2006]
Frank Owen (Commander RAN), submariner; Operational
Requirements Manager [17 May 2006]
Chris Oxenbould (Rear Admiral RAN), Deputy Chief of Navy
1997–99 [15 June 2006]
John Pascall, combat system engineer, SWSC and Rockwell [14
June 2006]
Stephanie Paul, Phillips Group; ran public relations for SMCT
[5 July 2006]
Paul-E Pålsson, President of Kockums 1987–91 [18 November
2006]
Olle Person, diesel engine consultant, Kockums and Hedemora
[13 November 2006]
Forbes Peters (Commander RAN), submariner; engineer; navy
supervisor of Waller refit [31 March 2006]
Bob Phillips, scientist, DSTO
John Prescott, Managing Director of BHP; co-author of
McIntosh-Prescott Report; Chairman of ASC [12 April 2006]
Robert Ray, Minister for Defence 1990–96
Peter Reith, Minister for Defence 2000–01
Dick Riddell (Rear Admiral USN), submariner; chief US naval
research and development adviser to allied navies
Simon Ridgway, engineer, ASC [31 March 2006]
Chris Ritchie (Vice Admiral RAN), Chief of Navy 2002–05
John Ritter, scientist, DSTO [21 March 2006]
Juergen Ritterhoff (Professor), head of IKL design team
[22 November 2006]
Terry Roach (Commodore RAN), submariner; leading
submarine policy maker [17 May 2006]
Trevor Robertson (Commander RAN), first CO of HMAS
Collins [8 February 2007]
Mick Roche, head of DMO 1999–2004
Geoff Rose (Commodore RAN), submariner; third Project
Director 1993–97 [20 August 2006]
LIST OF KEY PEOPLE xiii
Bill Rourke (Rear Admiral RAN), Chief of Naval Materiel; early

advocate of building in Australia [2 March 2006]
Jeff Rubython, executive, Wormald and ASC
Hans Saeger, headed HDW bid [22 November 2006]
Alan Saunders, ASC engineer, ex-Cockatoo Island
Kevin Scarce (Rear Admiral RAN), DMO division head for
naval project & support [30 March 2006]
Bill Schofield, DSTO scientist, head of aeronautical and
maritime research laboratories
David Shackleton (Vice Admiral RAN), Chief of Navy
1999–2002 [17 May 2006]
Rick Shalders (Commodore RAN), head of submarine squadron
[8 August 2006]
David Simcoe, DMO naval engineer [19 June 2007]
Peter Sinclair (Captain RAN), CO of HMAS Collins during sea
trials [16 June 2006]
Tony Smith (Commander RAN), submariner; worked for ASC,
Boeing and Raytheon [1 February 2006]
Keith Snell, consultant involved at many times during project;
principal SMA [27 July 2006]
Roger Sprimont, Swedish submariner; head of Kockums’ bid;
chairman, ASC 1987–89 [10 November 2006]
Karl Bertil Stein, combat system and weapons engineer,
Kockums [20 November 2006]
Pelle Stenberg, Swedish submariner; executive, Kockums
[16 November 2006]
Greg Stuart, project senior platform engineer [21 August 2006]
Tore Svensson, design engineer, Kockums [17 November 2006]
Ebbe Sylven, Swedish submariner; Swedish representative on
Australia-Sweden government steering committee
[14 November 2006]
John Taylor, welding engineer, ASC
Rod Taylor (Vice Admiral RAN), Chief of Naval Staff 1994–97
Jock Thornton, ASC engineer; ex-RN submariner
Ted Vanderhoek, software specialist with SWSC and submarine
project [16 August 2006]
Patrick Walters, national security correspondent for major
metropolitan dailies [7 August 2006]
Graham White (Captain RAN), first Project Director 1982–85
[5 August 2005; 6 August 2006]
xiv LIST OF KEY PEOPLE
Hugh White, staff member to Defence Minister Kim Beazley;

Deputy Secretary under Defence Minister John Moore
[27 March 2006]
John White, ran campaign to build in Australia and the
unsuccessful HDW bid [20 March 2006]
Don Williams, Managing Director, ASC 1988–93
Jim Williams, head of research, BHP Wollongong
David Wyllie, DSTO scientist; chief of the Maritime Platforms
Division in 1998 [5 May 2006]
Sandy Woodward (Vice Admiral RN), Falklands War
commander and Flag Officer Submarines
Alan Wrigley, Deputy Secretary, Department of Defence
1979–85; queried basis for submarine project;
Director-General of ASIO 1985–88 [15 November 2006]
Charles Yandell, production manager, ASC; ex-Cockatoo Island
John Young, Chairman of the Management Board, Atlas
Elektronik [31 January 2006]
LIST OF ACRONYMS
ACTU Australian Council of Trade Unions

AMS Australian Marine Systems Pty Ltd
ASC Australian Submarine Corporation Pty Ltd
CBI Chicago Bridge and Iron Inc.
CSA Computer Sciences of Australia
CSC Computer Sciences Corporation
DAO Defence Acquisition Organisation
DMO Defence Materiel Organisation
DSTO Defence Science and Technology Organisation
FMV Försvarets Materielverk (Swedish Defence Materiel
Administration)
HDW Howaltswerke Deutsche Werft
IKL Ingenieur Kontor Lübeck
MTU Motoren und Turbine Union Friedrichshafen GmbH
RAN Royal Australian Navy
RN Royal Navy
SMA Scientific Management Associates
SMCT Submarine Capability Team
SSPA SSPA Maritime Consulting AB, Göteborg, Sweden
SWSC Submarine Warfare Systems Centre
USN United States Navy
xv
INTRODUCTION
The construction of the Collins class submarines was Australia’s

largest, most expensive and most controversial military purchase.1
The project had its origins in the late 1970s and the last subma-
rine was delivered to the navy in 2003. During that period it was
subjected to an unprecedented level of media scrutiny and criti-
cism, became highly politicised and on several occasions faced the
prospect of being abandoned.
The general public perception of the submarine project is that
it was a hugely expensive failure and that the submarines are
noisy ‘dud subs’. These views are not shared by those who were
involved in designing, building or operating the submarines, or
by the navy leadership and military analysts who see the project
as an extraordinary industrial achievement and the submarines as
potent weapons and among the best of conventional submarines.
There is much that is unique about the Collins submarine
project. It was the first class of major warship designed specifically
for Australian requirements – earlier classes were either bought
from overseas or built to plans developed for other navies. Aus-
tralian industry was more heavily involved than with any other
modern military purchase. It was the largest electronics systems
integration project ever undertaken in Australia. The lengthy list
has led advocates for the project to compare it with the Snowy
Mountains Scheme for its ‘nation-building’ significance.
Nonetheless the project encountered serious difficulties, and
for many different reasons these were not managed well. Even
with the benefit of hindsight there is passionate disagreement on
what went wrong, why it went wrong and what should have been
done. The only agreement among those involved in the project is
that the final result is a fleet of excellent submarines.
I was approached by Cambridge University Press to write this
book, principally, I think, because I was the only person they
xvii
xviii INTRODUCTION
could find with no preconceptions of the submarine project. This

was accompanied by an absence of knowledge: I approached the
project as a blank canvas, to be filled in by talking to as many
of the protagonists as possible along with surveying the massive
quantity of documents generated during the project. My training
is in history and I have attempted to carry out the research and
analyse the evidence using the methods of a historian, although
historians are not trained to deal with the strong emotions still
felt about the project by many of those involved.
The aim of the book is simply to tell the story of the submarine
project from its origins to about 2005. It is an extraordinary story
with heroes and villains, intrigue, lies, spies and backstabbing. It is
also a story of enormous commitment and resolve to achieve what
many thought was impossible. There are lessons to be learnt from
the story, but they are for the readers to discover for themselves
rather than the authors to prescribe, and different people will see
different lessons.
The book deliberately avoids military jargon, ‘techno-speak’
and the universal euphemisms of military folk – where weapons
are called capabilities, assets, deterrents or systems, wars are con-
flicts or contingencies, and all military activities, however aggres-
sive in intent, come under the umbrella term ‘defence’. We have
also avoided the military’s compulsive tendency to over-use cap-
ital letters and acronyms. The style of the book will be foreign
for those of service background or military enthusiasts, but is
designed to make the story accessible to those confounded by sen-
tences like, ‘Raytheon has received a NAVAIR contract to further
develop the JSOW AGM-154C1 (formerly JSOW Block III)’. Nor
will the reader find such grandiloquent creatures as CINCPACFLT
or COMNAVSEASYSCOM. Both are (apparently) familiar
figures to modern sailors, though Nelson must be shuddering in
his grave.
This book is not an analysis of what has been written about
the project by journalists and academics and has generally avoided
using secondary sources. It is based on over 130 interviews with
people involved in almost every aspect of the project, and the doc-
uments, minutes, letters and diaries generated during the course of
the project. These include the major evaluation studies of industry
proposals, the Tender Evaluation Board Report and the Subma-
rine Evaluation Team Report, the minutes of the Force Structure
INTRODUCTION xix
Committee and the Chief of Naval Staff Advisory Committee, the

Project Quarterly Progress Reports, the Vickers Cockatoo Island
Dockyard Report on the construction of submarines in Australia
and many other reports on the strategic and technical justifications
for the project, and departmental files on specific issues.
My task was made possible by the advice and guidance of my
co-author, Derek Woolner, a military analyst long exposed to the
ways of the Canberra bureaucracy. Derek carried out the docu-
mentary research in Canberra, wrote chapters 7–10, 15 and 20,
contributed sections for several other chapters and helped in many
other ways. Admirals Peter Briggs and Boyd Robinson provided
constant help and opened many doors, without in any way deter-
mining the conclusions reached. The staff of the submarine branch
of the Defence Materiel Organisation assisted in many ways and
Colin Cooper deserves special thanks for maximising the authors’
use of the official record by his management of the security restric-
tions of classified documents.
Many people have read portions of the draft and the authors
thank them all for their helpful comments. We owe special thanks
for advice and encouragement to John Jeremy, Ron Dicker, Andy
Millar, Jim Duncan, Olle Holmdahl, Oscar Hughes, Graham
White, Greg Stuart and Hans Ohff. My visit to Sweden and
Germany in November 2006 was made possible by Roger
Sprimont, who arranged my interview program and helped greatly
in many ways. I received welcome help and hospitality from Pelle
Stenberg, Ulf Edman, Pår Bunke, Hans Peder Loid, Karl Bertil
Stein, Kurt Blixt, Ebbe Sylven, Tomy Hjorth, Paul-E Pålsson, Olle
Person, Gösta Hardebring, Roine Carlsson, Carl-Johan Åberg,
Hans Saeger and Juergen Ritterhoff. The staff of Kockums went
out of their way to assist me and Gunnar Öhlund, Tore Svensson
and Bo Benell provided me with much useful information. Simi-
larly, ASC Pty Ltd (formerly the Australian Submarine Corpora-
tion) gave me every assistance and I am grateful to Jayne Correll
for organising interviews with ASC staff.
Geoff Hook and Peter Nicholson have kindly given permission
to reproduce their cartoons, which encapsulate some of the more
acrimonious debates and controversial aspects of the submarine
saga. The following individuals and organisations have generously
allowed us to use their photographs to illustrate significant stages
of the project and some of the key people involved: Peter Sinclair;
xx INTRODUCTION
the Royal Australian Navy; ASC Pty Ltd; Defence Science and
Technology Organisation, Department of Defence; Force Element
Group, Department of Defence.
Of the thousands of people involved in designing, building
and operating the Collins class submarines, no two people fully
agree on the ‘real story’ of the submarine project. Similarly few
people will agree with all details in the book, and many will be
angered by some of the conclusions reached. While the authors
accept responsibility for any errors of fact or interpretation, the
lack of agreement on many issues remains one of the key features
of the Collins submarine project, with the noise of the disputes
still overshadowing the scale of the achievement.
Peter Yule
PART 1
YOU CAN’T BUILD

SUBMARINES
IN AUSTRALIA
CHAPTER 1
‘The one class of vessel that it is
impossible to build in Australia’:
Australia’s early submarines
THE NEW SUBMARINES:

A R E T H E R E FATA L D E F E C T S ?
This headline appeared in the Melbourne Age, not in the 1990s,
but on 12 July 1928. It referred not to the Australian-built Collins
class submarines, but to the British built O class. In 1925 two of
these submarines were ordered for the Royal Australian Navy
from Vickers’ shipyard at Barrow in the north-west of England.
Delivery was 12 months late due to industrial problems and short-
ages of skilled workers, but the worst problems were not seen until
the submarines, Oxley and Otway, had entered the Mediterranean
Sea on their way to Australia. Cracks and fractures were found in
the diesel engines of both boats, and they were stranded in Malta
for eight months.
Inevitably the delay and cost led to debate in Australia. The
government and the navy were accused of buying an experimental
design that had not been properly tested and of hiding the truth ‘in
a fog of mystery’.1 Official responses were vague and misleading
and, failing to quell public concerns, led to ever more extreme
claims about the boats’ failings.2 The lack of open and public
3
4 THE COLLINS CLASS SUBMARINE STORY
discussion led to a general belief that the faults were far worse than
they really were. Further, the debate was deliberately fanned by
leading figures in the navy and the government who were opposed
to having submarines at all.
Submarines have long been controversial in Australia. From
the earliest days of the navy the same topics have been debated.
Should the navy have submarines? If so, should they be built in
Australia or overseas? Does Australia have the ability to build
submarines? What are the most suitable submarines? Will they
prove too expensive? Will they perform as intended? The debates
have been more bitter and prolonged with the Collins class than
with any other, but most of the issues raised in the controversies
over Collins have familiar resonances over the century since Alfred
Deakin first proposed submarines for the Australian navy.
In April 1904 Admiral Sir John Fisher, the architect of British
naval policy before the First World War, described an incident he
observed during British naval exercises off Portsmouth:
Here . . . is the battleship Empress of India engaged in
manoeuvres and knowing of the proximity of Submarines, . . .
so self-confident of safety and so oblivious of the possibilities
of modern warfare that the Admiral is smoking his cigarette,
the Captain is calmly seeing defaulters down on the
half-deck, no one caring an iota of what is going on, and
suddenly they see a Whitehead torpedo miss their stern by a
few feet! And how fired? From a submarine [which] followed
that battleship for a solid two hours under water.3
He concluded: ‘In all seriousness I don’t think it is even

faintly realised – The immense impending revolution which the
submarines will effect as offensive weapons of war’ [original
emphasis]. Fisher’s enthusiasm for submarines was reflected in
the original vessels ordered for the Royal Australian Navy.
When Prime Minister Alfred Deakin announced his plan for
an Australian navy after discussions with the British Admiralty
in 1907, it was based on a flotilla of nine submarines and six
destroyers. Deakin met strong opposition from Captain William
Creswell, Australia’s senior naval officer, who argued that sub-
marines would ‘be useless for Australia under present conditions
or against any attacks possible to occur’ and they were expensive
to maintain and difficult to crew.4
A U S T R A L I A’ S E A R LY S U B M A R I N E S 5
However, Deakin had the endorsement of Admiral Fisher, had

seen a demonstration of submarines in England and remained
committed. This was not to be the last time that Australian politi-
cians were more enthusiastic about acquiring submarines than the
navy itself was.
In the decade before 1914 Britain became increasingly fearful
of Germany’s rapid naval expansion and this led Admiral Fisher to
advise Australia to create a ‘fleet unit’ of one battle cruiser, three
cruisers, six destroyers and three submarines. This proposal was
endorsed by Deakin’s government in September 1909 and formed
the basis for Australian naval planning until the First World
War, although the three C class submarines originally proposed
were replaced by two of the more modern and more expensive
E class.
While most of the fleet was ordered from British shipyards,
there was great political enthusiasm for building some vessels in
Australia, and a destroyer ordered under the 1907 scheme was
reassembled at Cockatoo Island Dockyard in Sydney. This took six
months longer than planned and ‘was not without its problems’
but the government and the navy were satisfied that Cockatoo
Island could attempt more substantial projects. Orders were
placed in August 1912 for a cruiser and three more destroyers and
all were delivered during 1916. The construction of the 5400-ton
cruiser HMAS Brisbane has been cited as ‘the most complex indus-
trial project undertaken in Australia to that time’ and, while there
might be arguments that the BHP steel works at Newcastle has
stronger claims, there is no doubting that Brisbane was a sig-
nificant achievement.5 At her launch the Minister for the Navy,
Mr J. A. Jensen, said: ‘There is no reason why the Australian work-
man should not be able to produce practically everything required
on a destroyer, a cruiser, a battleship or a submarine.’6
In reality, Cockatoo Island, the only Australian yard able to
build large naval ships, had numerous drawbacks. Together with
the higher wages of Australian workers, these meant that Cocka-
too’s ships cost roughly double that of British vessels.7 In response
to an Australian query, Vickers argued that reassembling prefab-
ricated submarine parts and machinery was impractical but that
submarine hulls could be built in Australia with British fittings,
machinery and skilled workers. Vickers was clear this would be
an extremely expensive operation.8
Consequently there was no opposition to the government’s

decision in late 1910 to order two E class submarines from
Britain. Delayed by Vickers’ high workloads and shortage of
skilled labour, AE1 and AE2 arrived in Sydney in May 1914.
They needed maintenance and repair after a 12 000-mile voyage,
but support arrangements were incomplete: the submarine depot
ship, HMAS Platypus, was not ready, and even their base was
undecided. Reflecting both unfamiliarity with, and in some quar-
ters disdain for, the requirements of submarine operations, the
purchase of AE1 and AE2 also demonstrated a continual feature
of Australian defence procurement – the failure to appreciate both
the full costs of supporting equipment and the opportunities for
integrating local industry support.
With the outbreak of war in August 1914 the new submarines
joined the fleet for the attack on the German wireless station
at Rabaul, but AE1 failed to return from patrol on 14 Septem-
ber and was never seen again. AE1 was the first vessel lost by
the Australian navy and its sailors were among Australia’s first
casualties of the First World War.
AE2 sailed to the Mediterranean where she played a dramatic
but little-known role in the Gallipoli landings. On 25 April 1915
AE2 was the first allied vessel to penetrate the Dardanelles and
her radio message giving notification of her success helped sway
General Ian Hamilton against withdrawing land forces from the
peninsula. Over the next few days AE2 torpedoed a Turkish
gunboat and caused great disruption to Turkish shipping, but
she did not return from her mission. Hit by Turkish gunfire,
AE2 was scuttled by her crew, who spent the rest of the war as
prisoners.9
In spite of these losses the Australian government remained
committed to an Australian submarine arm and made sev-
eral approaches to the British Admiralty for new submarines.
However, British shipyards were too busy and Australia would
have to wait upon the Admiralty’s priorities for access to
submarines.10
This raised the question: why not build submarines in Aus-
tralia? The opening of BHP’s steel plant at Newcastle, the wartime
need to replace imports with local production, and the enor-
mous military demand led to a rapid increase in industrial capac-
ity during the war years. Cockatoo Island successfully built two
cruisers, three destroyers and several large auxiliaries for the

navy between 1913 and 1919, with the destroyers being the first
steel ships wholly built in Australia.11 During the war, Canada,
whose economic and industrial development was at a similar
level to Australia’s, built 18 complete H class submarines for
the British and Italian navies and a further 17 in kit form for
Russia.12
The matter of replacements for AE1 and AE2 was raised in
parliament on 27 May 1915. Jens Jensen, the assistant minister
representing the Minister for Defence in the House of Representa-
tives, said, ‘I hope we shall soon have more than two submarines’,
to which Joseph Cook, always a passionate advocate of Australian
self-reliance, responded: ‘And I should like them all to be built in
Australia if possible.’ To which Jensen replied: ‘The submarine is
the one class of vessel that it is impossible to build in Australia.’13
This statement was not contested. Naval experts and politicians
agreed that building submarines required specialised skills and
materials that were unavailable in Australia.
After the First World War the problem of excess demand for
military equipment quickly became a problem of excess supply. In
January 1919 the Australian government accepted a British offer
of six surplus J class submarines, which arrived in Sydney Harbour
on 15 July 1919. They were in poor condition and required exten-
sive refits. Although the management of Cockatoo Island had had
many months notice, the yard was quite unprepared for the work.
The repairs were slow and had scant regard for quality, primarily
because of shortages of skilled workers and delayed British spare
parts,14 and were not completed until the J boats were no longer
wanted. The navy’s budget had been slashed due to post-war hopes
for disarmament and an increasingly stagnant economy and, des-
perate to keep its surface ships, the service chose to sacrifice the
obsolete and expensive J boats. Laid up in 1921, they were sold
for scrap the following year.15
Yet government policy and Admiralty advice continued to sup-
port the development of an Australia submarine force. Even before
the J class boats were paid off, the navy was again looking at the
possibility of building submarines in Australia. On 23 November
1920 the chief of the naval staff wrote to Vice-Admiral Sir William
Clarkson, the member of the Naval Board in charge of engineering
and shipbuilding:
I shall be glad if you will investigate the possibility of

building submarines in Australia . . .
The following information is what is particularly
required:
a Can Submarines be built at the present time and if so
where
b Is the necessary skilled labour available locally
c What additional plant if any is required in order to
commence such construction and a rough estimate of the
cost of such plant and all it involves.16
The blunt reply came in just two days:
With reference to your enquiry, the following information is
appended . . .
a No
b Sufficient skilled labour is not available locally. A few
men have been trained in establishments where
submarines are built, but they are not sufficient.
c Will be investigated.17
The general manager of Cockatoo Island Dockyard was asked to
give an answer to the third question. He replied with a detailed
report on 16 December listing and pricing the equipment that
would be required to build submarines, and concluded that con-
struction in Australia would be feasible but certain raw mate-
rials and the batteries and electrical equipment would have to
be imported.18 However, in early 1923 Clarkson concluded that
‘the marine engineering development of Australia was at present
emphatically incapable of constructing submarines’. A submarine
built at Cockatoo Island would cost more than double the British
price and ‘ran the gravest risk of ultimate failure’.19 Consequently,
in late 1924 when the government agreed to buy two new O class
submarines, no voices urged construction in Australia.
The ill fate that had dogged the Australian submarine service
since the loss of AE1 in September 1914 continued with the O
boats, Oxley and Otway. Lengthy delays, mechanical failures
and public furore turned both political and naval opinion against
them. By mid-1929, when they were finally ready for service,
the economy was spiralling into depression, and it had already
been decided not to complete the planned flotilla of six. As in the
early 1920s, the navy leadership was determined to maintain its
surface ships and quickly agreed to sacrifice the submarines. In

May 1930 Oxley and Otway were paid off and a year later they
were returned to the Royal Navy.20
An important lesson from the failures of the J and O class
submarines in the Australian navy was the importance of a mod-
ern and growing economy to the possession of modern weapons.
The Australian economy in the 1920s and 1930s had a narrow
industrial base, relying heavily on the export of primary prod-
ucts to Britain, itself with a steeply declining economy. The pitiful
state of Australia’s military preparedness in the late 1930s was not
entirely due to myopia – an empty federal treasury was unable to
fund rearmament and a tiny industrial base was unable to supply
more than a trickle of modern weapons and equipment.
The Australian shipbuilding industry expanded enormously
during the Second World War, building over 100 naval ves-
sels between 1939 and 1946, including 60 Australian-designed
Bathurst class minesweepers and 12 River class frigates.21 To keep
Cockatoo Island and Williamstown dockyards in work a post-
war program began to build 12 destroyers every 10 years. The
first were begun in 1949 but only three had been completed by
1959, with the cost between order and completion rising from
£2.6 million to more than £7 million each. This experience typ-
ified Australian post-war naval shipbuilding. Local construction
cost more and took longer than planned. While the quality of
the work of the local shipyards was good, productivity was low,
labour relations were a nightmare and many projects were never
completed.22
In May 1964 two Type 12 frigates, Swan and Torrens, were
ordered from Cockatoo Island and Williamstown. Although based
on the earlier River class, the designs were radically altered, con-
stituting a virtual re-design. Political pressure led to the ships being
laid down prematurely and ‘construction was hampered by design
delays, late equipment deliveries and constant design changes’.23
When Torrens was finally completed at massive expense in
January 1971, ‘it was to be the last major combat ship completed
in an Australian shipyard for 21 years’.
Naval shipbuilding reflected deeper problems in the Australian
economy. While manufacturing expanded rapidly in the 1940s
and 1950s, stimulated first by the war and later by a rapidly
rising population, it was dependent on high tariffs on imports.
Australian manufacturers were small-scale, technologically back-

ward and focused solely on the domestic market. Industrial rela-
tions were poor, labour costs high and productivity low. These
factors lay behind the malaise of the Australian economy in the
1970s and early 1980s when high inflation and unemployment
accompanied a rapid decline in the country’s manufacturing base.
CHAPTER 2
Australia’s Oberon class submarines
Although Allied submarines based in Fremantle and Brisbane

wreaked havoc on Japanese shipping during the Second World
War, Australian naval authorities showed no interest in acquir-
ing submarines afterwards. Yet submarines were needed for anti-
submarine warfare training and in 1949 it was arranged that the
Royal Navy’s fourth submarine flotilla (normally consisting of
two or three submarines) would be based in Sydney. This forced
Cockatoo Island Dockyard to develop expertise for maintaining
and refitting submarines – complex tasks requiring advanced tech-
nical skills lacking in Australia during its brief periods of subma-
rine ownership. Until 1960 the British submarines were refitted in
Singapore but between 1961 and 1966 five refits were successfully
carried out at Cockatoo Island.1
In the late 1950s Australia again began to debate the ownership
of a submarine force, led by John Gorton, whose term as Minister
for the Navy was noted for his questioning of many of the
navy’s dogmas. In 1959 the Chiefs of Staff considered the issue
and decided that ‘the institution of a submarine service would
be a valuable addition to balanced Australian Defence Forces’.
Their report argued that the main role of Australian submarines
11
would be to train anti-submarine forces and, in wartime, to ‘hunt

and kill’ enemy submarines. By now they had recognised that
Australian anti-submarine training could not rely indefinitely on
Britain maintaining its squadron in Sydney. They saw little poten-
tial for the use of submarines for offensive action.2
The Chiefs of Staff considered the possibility of acquiring
nuclear submarines but decided against it until either:
1 The Indonesians or Chinese Communists have attained a

high degree of A/S efficiency, or have themselves
introduced nuclear submarines: or
2 The cost of nuclear submarines approaches twice that of a
conventional submarine, when, for a similar capital
expenditure the same effective number of submarines on
patrol could be obtained.
The report asserted that ‘one nuclear submarine can do the effec-
tive patrol work of two conventional submarines’ but, at one-
sixth the cost, conventional submarines were more efficient. The
report did not consider whether Australia could maintain nuclear
submarines without a nuclear industry.
In July 1959 Gorton advised Athol Townley, the Minister for
Defence, that he was preparing to recommend the purchase of
submarines to cabinet. Townley was cautious. When questioned
in parliament he commented that: ‘Australia will have to be pretty
careful before it goes into the submarine arm again and will have to
take every precaution and examine the position very thoroughly,
because three times this country has become involved in sub-
marines and three times it has been pleased to get out of this
arm of the Navy.’3
It took more than three years, and the formal announcement
by the British in 1961 that they would be withdrawing their
submarines by the end of the decade, for Gorton to overcome
Townley and some members of the Naval Board. On 23 January
1963 he announced cabinet approval to order four Oberon class
submarines from Britain for delivery between 1966 and 1968.
Commander Henry Cook, a former Royal Navy submarine
commander who had transferred to the Australian navy, was
involved in the acquisition and recalls that talks with the British
began before 1961 about the possibility of buying Oberons. In
AUSTRALIA’S OBERON CLASS SUBMARINES 13
1962 the Naval Board formally evaluated the Oberon and the
American Barbel. The Barbel was rejected partly on cost grounds
and partly because it was soon to be taken out of service.4 Tra-
dition, together with the fact that the Oberon was a tried and
successful design, meant that the decision to buy from Britain was
not questioned.
However, there was some controversy over the navy’s decision
to order four submarines from Britain without investigating the
possibility of building at least two of them in Australia. Even
before the official announcement, H. P. Weymouth, the chairman
of the Australian Shipbuilding Board, wrote to Hubert Opperman,
the Minister for Shipping and Transport:
Submarines are, of course, very special types of naval vessels,

but it is the design rather than the building which requires a
great deal of previous experience and experiment. The inner
‘pressure hull’ requires a high standard of welding, but apart
from this there is no part of the submarine hull which is more
difficult to construct than a naval surface ship.
. . . it seems that the submarine is to be the most
important naval vessel of the future, and the sooner we
commence constructing our own the better for our long-term
defence considerations and for our national development and
employment.5
For political reasons Opperman and Townley supported the

idea of at least ‘obtaining some indication from Australian yards
as to the possibility of building in Australia’, but Gorton and the
navy were adamantly opposed to this.6 They saw no possibility of
building in Australian shipyards and Gorton argued that it would
inevitably be slower and more costly than building in Britain.
Australia had no experience, while in Britain several yards were
building Oberons ‘on what could be described as something like
a production line’.7 When these predictable arguments failed to
quell the calls for work to be given to Australian shipyards, Gorton
let loose:
Defence funds were intended to provide defence for Australia,

not to meet the needs of some Australian shipyard owners.
What the shipbuilding industry means when it talks of
building submarines and guided missile destroyers in
Australia is building the hulls in Australia and assembling

inside those hulls the costly specialist equipment, electronic
devices, missiles and other weapons imported from abroad.
The only significant employment provided would, therefore,
be in ship assembly work in shipyards, which would employ
not thousands but at the most a few hundred.
. . . I will never agree that the object of maintaining less
competition for privately owned civil shipyards is more
important than the object of providing naval defence from
the money voted for defence . . .
Nor will I agree that using defence funds to provide
employment for skilled tradesmen at a particular place or
profits for a particular company is as important as using
these funds to provide employment of trained fighting men in
an expanded navy.
And if this is unsatisfactory to some Australian shipyard
owners and does not meet their needs, all I can say is that it is
not meant to. It is meant to meet the needs of providing
defence for Australia.8
This outburst drew a response from J. B. Pomeroy, the Victorian

secretary of the Association of Architects, Engineers, Surveyors
and Draftsmen, who argued that Gorton had ignored the impact of
sub-contracting in creating employment in Australia and ‘building
up the necessary skills and know-how so necessary to any coun-
try which intends to be self-sufficient’.9 R. W. C. Anderson, the
director of the Associated Chambers of Manufactures, argued that
Australian shipyards were capable of building and installing intri-
cate weapons systems and ‘[b]y this method a reservoir of skilled
and knowledgeable technicians is created which have the ability
to repair and maintain the weapons they instal’.10 From the left
of the Labor Party, Dr Jim Cairns commented: ‘From a defence
point of view, the economic development of Australia was likely
to be more valuable than [naval vessels] bought overseas because
they involved a few millions less immediate outlay.’11
The political pressure led Townley to insist that Gorton and
the navy investigate the possibility of at least allowing Aus-
tralian yards to tender for the Oberons, and a report was hur-
riedly prepared in February 1963. Its central arguments were
that Australian-built submarines could not be ready before the
British flotilla departed, and they would cost too much. The report
analysed in some detail what would be involved in Australian
construction:
In the studies and analyses of submarine construction in

Australia, the phrase submarine construction has meant
assembly, inside a hull constructed in Australia, of propulsion
machinery, armaments and specialised equipment of all kinds,
supplied through the Admiralty from the United Kingdom.12
The navy expected that all components would have to be imported

except for a few things such as hull fittings, pipes and valves that
could be made at Cockatoo Island, and standard naval supply
items such as galley equipment.
The report then examined the possibility of building subma-
rine hulls in Australia, concluding that ‘leaving aside the question
of time and cost there is . . . no technical reason why the hull could
not be fabricated in Australia’, although it expressed uncertainty
whether BHP would be prepared to make the special semi–high
tensile steel at an acceptable price. Furthermore, while fabrica-
tion by Cockatoo Island Dockyard could be done with sufficient
technical training of the workforce, the navy’s technical depart-
ment thought the dished ends (that is, the pressure bulkheads)
would have to be imported from the United Kingdom. Assembly
of submarine components would be possible, although with delay,
if the Admiralty were prepared to assist. However, the dockyard
would not be capable of completely installing the armament and
electronic work and that would have to be done by the navy.
On finance the report noted:
The cost of fabricating in Australia can only be a guess, and

in [this] . . . case, that guess is liable greatly to understate the
actual cost . . . Any estimate of £5 million plus for submarine
construction [compared to £3.3 million for British-built
submarines] should therefore be regarded with reserve. In any
case the RAN, as the RN, should no longer build ships on the
basis of estimates and cost plus agreements but on the basis
of firm contract prices for fixed designs. [emphasis added]
Significantly, this report appears to have been written without even

a pretence of discussions with Australian industry.
The report was probably correct in arguing that building the

Oberons would have stretched the capabilities of Australian indus-
try and it would certainly have been more expensive to build in
Australia than to buy from Britain. Nonetheless, it is clear that
in the early 1960s the navy had no interest in being involved in
‘nation-building’, expanding or even preserving the skill base of
Australian industry, or in the ability of Australian industry to
maintain ships and weapon systems. The only concern appears to
have been to buy the most new ships with the money available.
The political debate over whether the Oberons could be built in
Australia sputtered on throughout the first half of 1963. Although
the navy had already called for tenders for four submarines from
British yards and had no intention of building any of the sub-
marines in Australia, it could not admit this until the debate was
resolved. Thus, during the year it presented many further argu-
ments. One of the strongest of these was that Australia lacked
sufficient competent welders:
These vessels are of all-welded construction and the quality
of steel used is of such a nature that welding can only be
undertaken by extremely competent welders. The standard of
work required is high, . . . and the inspection requirements
are severe and rigid. Welders employed on this class of work
must be specially trained and . . . their workmanship
examined and passed . . . They must also periodically
requalify to ensure maintenance of the high standard
required . . .
It is unlikely that the number of welders with the required
degree of skill could be provided; present experience in the
repair of submarines at CODOCK [Cockatoo Island] shows
that while the current standards of welding operatives are
acceptable for repair work they would not be capable of nor
would there be sufficient numbers for submarine
construction. Therefore, unless a large scale and expensive
training programme is embarked on, submarine construction
would be impracticable.13
It was also suggested that the British Admiralty would not pro-
vide specifications to Australian tenderers or help assess tenders
submitted by Australian dockyards.14
The Joint Committee on War Production, which was also
attempting to assess the issue of Australia’s ability to build
submarines, found itself hindered at every turn by the navy. It

could not, for example, investigate the possibility of making com-
ponents in Australia because the navy would not supply the spec-
ifications. The committee raised the possibility of ‘an Australian
shipbuilding firm collaborating with a United Kingdom shipbuild-
ing firm to build a submarine’. It noted that of the four major
Australian shipbuilders only Cockatoo Island was likely to be
interested because of its work in refitting submarines and because
it was a wholly-owned subsidiary of Vickers Armstrong, which
had built Oberon class submarines. The committee’s report con-
cluded that ‘without investigation it cannot be excluded that the
parent firm might be willing to help its subsidiary, including in the
preparation and submission of a tender’.15
Cockatoo Island in fact was interested in building some of the
submarines, although it did not push its case with great energy
or enthusiasm. Nonetheless, in his monthly report to London on
31 January 1963, the managing director of Cockatoo, Captain
R. G. Parker, wrote:
You have probably read of our Government’s decision to
purchase another destroyer from the USA, also four Oberon
class submarines from the United Kingdom. This latter
decision, of course disappoints us, as we feel we could build
them (or some of them) at Cockatoo. We are still hopeful
that we may be asked to build two of them. The Navy
Minister, Senator Gorton, made the statement that Australian
costs were high – which of course is true, but it would help at
least keep Naval shipbuilding alive in Australia and most of
the money would be spent in this country. We would have to
import a considerable amount of specialised equipment, and
probably main engines, from Barrow, but it would save our
shipyard.16
The response from London does not appear to have been over-
enthusiastic and Cockatoo Island made little headway with its
lobbying in Australia.
However, the suggestion that Cockatoo might be interested in
building the submarines led the navy to introduce a new note of
warning into the debate, arguing that the Canadians were show-
ing interest in ordering Oberons from Britain, so Australia would
need to confirm its order immediately to ensure early delivery.
The issue was finally resolved when Gorton told the Minister for
Defence that he had telephoned the general manager of Cockatoo

Island Dockyard and been told that ‘that firm is not interested in
submitting tenders for the assembling of these submarines in their
yards’.17
The first four Oberons had all arrived in Australia by July 1970.
In 1971 two more Oberons were ordered from Britain (with only
a gentle cough from Cockatoo Island to suggest that they might be
built in Australia18 ) and these were delivered in 1977 and 1978.
In service the Oberons proved to be an excellent submarine and
their success broke down many (but far from all) of the entrenched
prejudices against submarines in the navy. Although acquired pri-
marily to provide anti-submarine training for surface warships, in
the hands of enthusiastic and capable officers and crews they soon
became the navy’s primary deterrent as well as having unmatched
ability to carry out surveillance and operate without support far
from their bases.
The refits carried out at Cockatoo Island Dockyard were vital
for the maintenance of the Oberons. Refits were intended to
restore the submarines to ‘as new’ condition, and this was an
extremely complex task. John Jeremy, the chief executive of the
dockyard from 1981 until it was closed in 1991, gave a detailed
account of the refit process in his history of Cockatoo Island. He
noted that:
An Oberon class submarine refit was a complex task
requiring some 1 300 000 man-hours over a period of
between two and two and a half years. The design of the
submarine, with many hard systems (piping systems exposed
to full diving depth pressure) and very limited access, made it
a very labour intensive task, and very sensitive to delays
caused through lapses in the supply of information, materials
and equipment [much of which had to come from Britain].19
As the Oberons aged, refits became more difficult as parts wore out
and corroded sections of the pressure hull required replacement.
About 30 000 individual items were needed for each refit and the
early refits depended heavily on spares from the UK, although
‘local industry gradually became qualified for the supply of some
parts, reducing this dependency’.20
The performance of the Oberons convinced Australian navy
planners of the need for submarines, but their maintenance
provided subtle encouragement for building the next generation of

submarines in Australia. Reliance on Britain for spare parts, design
advice and approval often slowed maintenance,21 but the ability of
Cockatoo Island to refit submarines encouraged the thought that
Australian dockyards could take the next step and build them.
Most importantly, the success of a major program to replace the
sonar and weapons systems, carried out between 1972 and 1981,
gave the navy’s submariners enormous confidence in the ability of
the navy, the dockyards and Australian industry to carry out com-
plex and technically demanding projects. The ‘submarine weapons
update program’ was the overture to the Collins symphony.
CHAPTER 3
The submarine weapons update
program and the origins of the
new submarine project
The British Oberon submarine HMS Osiris had an affinity with

the town of Ilkley in Yorkshire, which had raised the money for
an earlier submarine, also called Osiris, in the Second World War.
In the 1980s the patron of the Ilkley naval cadets was a highly
regarded pianist. For one cadet fundraiser the submarine went
to Hull and a piano was placed on it so the pianist could give
a concert as they sailed down the river. However, the tides are
fierce in the Humber River and following several delays the trip
started with an ebb tide of 7–8 knots. The tug line parted and
the submarine sailed sideways for a mile and a quarter down the
Humber. It was pouring rain but the pianist kept playing, and the
submarine’s skipper thinks he was quite unaware of the drama
or the rain. After recovering the submarine’s heading they com-
pleted the transit of the Humber with no damage other than a
little embarrassment.
The commanding officer was Mike Gallagher, later to be
the commanding officer of HMAS Farncomb, the second of the
Collins class submarines. Gallagher, like many Australian sub-
mariners before him, had successfully completed the stressful and
demanding Royal Navy course for submarine commanders known
20
THE SUBMARINE WEAPONS UPDATE PROGRAM 21
as ‘Perisher’ and, again like a select few Australians, he was given

command of a British conventional submarine.
In earlier years ties between the Australian and British navies
had been even closer. Rod Fayle joined the navy as a 16 year old
in 1959, trained at the Naval College at Jervis Bay and spent time
on HMAS Vampire and Melbourne, before going to the Naval
College Britannia in England in 1963. While he was there the
Australian government decided to buy the first four Oberons and
there was a call for volunteers for the submarines. Fayle signed up
and stayed in Britain to get experience on Royal Navy submarines
while the Oberons were being built.
He did the standard British training program, going to the
submarine school at Gosport before posting to various British
submarines. His opinion was that ‘the Brits were always working
with inferior equipment so they had to be good at teaching’, and,
like all Australians, he found their training to be magnificent. It
suited the Royal Navy to have Australians and Canadians to crew
their conventional submarines while British crews were trained
for the new nuclear submarines, and sometimes more than half
the crews would be colonials. Fayle did all the submarine officers’
jobs up to first lieutenant within two years, which was far quicker
than it would have been in Australia because the British officers
were all going on nuclear courses.
In 1967 Fayle came back as navigator on the first Australian
Oberon, HMAS Oxley, and for the next three years served at the
submarine base and at sea, before going to the United Kingdom to
do his Perisher course. He returned to command Onslow and had
two more commands before becoming one of the leading actors
in the early years of the Collins drama.
Primarily because the Royal Navy now has only nuclear sub-
marines, the close ties between the British and Australian subma-
rine forces have since diminished. However, back in 1970, when
the links between the navies were still strong, Geoff Rose – later
to be the third project director of the Collins project – was serv-
ing as engineer on the Porpoise class submarine HMS Walrus.
They took the boat to Germany for Kiel Week, and at one of the
social events he met an elderly German, who introduced himself
as Ulrich Gabler. Herr Gabler was interested in having a look
over the Walrus, so Rose invited him on board. As they went
over the boat, Geoff was startled when the German showed an
intimate knowledge of the submarine, saying things like, ‘As we

go through this hatch, the ballast pump will be there’. Rose asked
if he had been on one of the British submarines before. ‘Oh, no,’
Herr Gabler exclaimed, ‘I designed submarines in the war and this
is very much like one of my designs.’
The British Porpoise and Oberon class submarines were devel-
oped from the visionary type XXI U-boat, which the Allies found
almost impossible to counter in the early months of 1945, and
when the Australian navy bought Oberons in the 1960s they
came with much equipment that was little advanced on that
of the Second World War. There was no thought of buying a
separate ‘combat system’ – the navy simply purchased Oberon
class submarines, with the sonars and torpedoes that came with
them.1 The Australian Oberons therefore arrived with what Ian
MacDougall, one of the original Oberon officers, described as
‘a Second World War era analogue system, with some curiosities’.
It was a very manual system and had ‘weird old gadgets of cogs and
wheels’ so that ‘you were winding handles to get dials to match’
when planning firing. The sonar was aural rather than visual,
and skill as a sonar operator depended on having good pitch.
Admiral Sandy Woodward, the British commander during the
Falklands war, who took Ian MacDougall’s submarine comman-
ders training course, had developed a system of submarine attacks
based on stopwatches and tuning forks. Greaseproof paper, chi-
nagraph pencils and perspex boards were other essential pieces of
equipment.2
After the introduction of the Oberon class, the focus of the
British navy turned to developing a nuclear submarine force and
there was neither money nor expertise for improving its conven-
tional submarines. Although the Royal Navy remained the design
authority, any upgrading of Australia’s submarines would have to
be run by the Australian navy.
There was never a formal project to give Australia’s Oberons
a new combat system. Although Navy Minister John Gorton had
seen the submarines as playing a vital operational role, the navy
hierarchy believed they were ‘clockwork mice’ for training the sur-
face fleet and aircraft in anti-submarine warfare and saw no need
to upgrade them. However, the young submarine officers, with the
encouragement of ex-Royal Navy submarine commanding officers
such as David Lorimer, Gordon Dalrymple and Barry Nobes, soon
demonstrated that submarines could do far more than the navy

had expected. It became impossible to ignore their success against
surface ships in exercises, which forced ships to change their tactics
and not take on a submarine. They also excelled at ‘surveillance’ –
the navy’s euphemism for operations that might otherwise be
called spying. While the details of the Oberons’ Cold War surveil-
lance missions are still shrouded in secrecy, those involved recall
them with great excitement and believe they showed the value of
submarines to the wider defence community and to politicians.
A mission to the Soviet naval base at Cam Ranh Bay in Vietnam
showed conclusively that ‘it was more than mice we had bought’ –
an image of a Kirov class battlecruiser’s propeller was taken from
so close that it filled the video screen.3
The improvements to the Oberons’ combat system were carried
out as a series of small projects over a decade from 1972. The first
step was the purchase of a new range-finding passive sonar system
called Micropuffs from the American company Sperry Gyroscope.
Micropuffs triangulated inputs from three sonar arrays along the
side of the submarine, giving target bearing and range instantly.
Previously it had taken seven people up to 30 minutes to work
out the same calculation. This project was initiated by Bill Owen
as director of submarine policy from 1971 to 1975.
Next was the installation of an integrated digital computer
and fire control system from another American company, Singer
Librascope, needed to fire the new American wire-guided Mark
48 torpedoes and Harpoon anti-ship homing missiles. The final
project was the installation of a new attack sonar from the German
company Krupp Atlas. Peter Briggs, who commanded two of the
Oberons, recalls that: ‘The old sonar trundled around on wheels
and . . . in practice it could only manage one target at a time. The
new sonar was another revolution – it was digital and could track
six targets simultaneously giving instant information and great
detail.’4
Most of the new equipment was installed on the submarines
during their regular refits at Cockatoo Island, requiring ‘wide-
ranging modifications to the submarines’ systems and structures’.5
These included reconstruction of the control room, radio office
and radar office, considerable alteration to ventilation systems (the
new system required air cooling to overcome the heat produced
by the electronic systems), inserts in the pressure hull for the new
sonars, and new bow structures to accommodate the larger bow

sonars. In addition all the cables for the old sonars and fire control
system had to be removed and replaced.
At the same time as the submarines were being modernised,
the Australian submarine force was developing its first subma-
rine tactical training courses at HMAS Watson at South Head in
Sydney. A simulator was built with a periscope, real sonar sets
and a room full of computers to provide realistic situations for
training and the ability to test components before putting them
on the submarines.
While it was relatively simple to buy the ‘black boxes’ for these
new weapons and systems, it was a harder task to integrate them
so they worked smoothly and effectively. Much of the work was
done at HMAS Watson, where Terry Roach and Chris Dale devel-
oped the embryonic training establishment into the Submarine
Warfare Systems Centre (SWSC). The three directors during the
Oberons’ update program were Terry Roach, Rod Fayle and Peter
Briggs, while Peter Mitchell as director of naval weapons design
had general oversight of the centre. Briggs recalls that ‘the centre
was needed because we had bought all these boxes and we didn’t
know how to fit them all together’. The new centre rapidly built
up a staff of enthusiastic and capable digital engineers and com-
puter programmers, most of them being ‘mad rough diamonds’.
Computerisation of defence systems was new and there was a real
sense of pioneering among the small group involved, almost all of
whom went on to prominent roles in the new submarine project.
The software team was led by Andrew Johnson, who was ‘far and
away the best programmer in defence and had good engineering
understanding – he knew how to make the software work with
the hardware’.6
Among his team were Mick Millington and John Pascall, who
had both started their careers as apprentices at Garden Island.
Rick Neilson, an instrument fitter in the air force working on
flight simulators until 1975, went to Watson’s Bay as a civilian
because of this expertise. John Pascall recalls that the software
engineers were continually pushed to extend their capabilities by
‘eager beaver’ submariners like Roach and Briggs. Peter Briggs
sees the key to the centre’s success as being ‘the combination of
engineers, programmers and submariners in an environment that
challenged and drew the best from each’.
Integrating the Harpoon missiles was an example of the

SWSC’s abilities. The Americans controlled the missiles through a
separate ‘black box’ but Australian submariners wanted to control
the missiles through the submarine’s modernised combat system.
The centre, and defence scientists from the navy’s research labo-
ratories, wrote software to integrate firing of both torpedoes and
missiles. Unlike American submarines, the Australian Oberons
were able to fire up to six Harpoon missiles in a salvo and have
them arrive simultaneously at the target via different tracks.
There was a close relationship between the submarine opera-
tors and the civilian ‘boffins’ at the centre. Mick Millington recalls
that the civilian engineers and programmers were strongly encour-
aged to spend time at sea alongside sailors to learn the real issues of
operating sonars and the fire control system. Some were integrated
into command teams for 60-day patrols in the centre’s simulator,
which was a great way to learn the issues facing the operators.
Engineers understood how things were meant to work, but being
with the operators showed how they really worked and the pres-
sures involved. Bob Clark, who joined the centre as a civilian in
1981 not long after graduation, recollects that civilians spent a lot
of time at sea; he was on Ovens in Hawaii for the first test firing
of a Harpoon missile from an Oberon.7
Andrew Johnson found the navy unsupportive of the update
program and said that those at the centre ‘felt like the early Chris-
tians – continually subject to persecution’. This was not necessarily
a problem as they also reacted like the early Christians, being a
small, persecuted group totally dedicated to the project.
All recall the excitement and enthusiasm they felt working on
the Oberons’ new combat system. The task was demanding and at
the outer edge of current technology – and it was a resounding suc-
cess. The weapons update program made the Oberons probably
the most capable conventional submarines in the world and it gave
the people who had worked on it enormous confidence in their
ability to tackle complex projects successfully. It was inevitable
that when attention turned from improving the Oberons to plan-
ning for their successors, the SWSC would play a central role.8
As the Oberon update program progressed through the late
1970s, the navy had a crisis in its fleet planning. A program
to build new destroyers had been cancelled in 1973. Admi-
ral Bill Rourke, who worked on that project, recalled that the
specifications were changed constantly and the proposed ships

grew to the point that it was feared they would capsize. This
‘design creep’ reflected changing and unclear operational require-
ments and poor project management, but cancellation created
uncertainty for the surface fleet. The navy’s only aircraft carrier,
HMAS Melbourne, was nearing the end of its useful life. While
most of the navy desperately wanted a new carrier, there was fierce
debate with politicians and bureaucrats as to whether the enor-
mous cost was justified. At the same time there was a need to con-
sider replacements for the Oberons. There were thus three major
projects that the navy had on its wish list, but in the dire economic
circumstances of the late 1970s and early 1980s there was little
chance of persuading the politicians to fund more than one.
Within the navy there was no doubt that replacing the Oberons
ranked a distant third behind the aircraft carrier and new destroy-
ers. However, the Oberon upgrade had shown that submariners
could use stealth in defence politics as well as in their underwa-
ter operations, and work towards a new submarine project began
quietly and with few aware that it was happening.
In July 1978 the director of submarine policy, Barry Nobes
(one of the original Royal Navy commanders of the Australian
Oberons, who had joined the Australian navy), prepared a brief
on the need to plan for the replacement of the Oberons.9 Nobes
argued that submarines were unique in their deterrent effect and
surveillance capability and that they needed to be able to oper-
ate over long distances. He suggested there was a need for a core
force of eight submarines as the six Oberons were not meeting all
peacetime tasks efficiently. He assumed the replacements would
be diesel-electric because nuclear propulsion would be too expen-
sive, and he suggested that building all but the first of the new
submarines in Australia should be considered.
The paper was presented to the defence operational require-
ments committee in August 1978 and endorsed as the basis for fur-
ther development. The new submarine project received the num-
ber SEA1114, which has stayed with it ever since.10 Bill Owen,
the commander of the submarine squadron, became a lone voice
arguing that the search for an Oberon replacement was premature
and should be delayed until a suitable tried and tested submarine
was in service with another navy (as the Oberons had been), and
installation of air-independent propulsion became feasible.
In one of the earliest indications that the new submarine project

might follow a very different course from the Oberons, in 1979
Vickers Cockatoo Dockyard gained agreement from the Depart-
ment of Defence for ‘undertaking a study into the feasibility
of building modern submarines in Australia’.11 The report was
completed in March 1981.
Based on the British Type 2400, later known as the Upholder
class, as representative of the type of submarine likely to replace
the Oberons, the study also looked at Dutch and German designs.
It assumed that at least the first submarine would be built in the
overseas lead yard and that castings, forgings, dome bulkheads
and all equipment would be bought in or supplied as govern-
ment furnished equipment. The study concluded that building
submarines in Australia was ‘entirely practical’ given these stipu-
lations and assumptions, and emphasised the benefits for future
support and maintenance of the new submarines if they were built
in Australia.12 Significantly, the study did not look at a Swedish
design, an indication that this was not considered a potential
choice in 1980.
The Cockatoo study contemplated traditional construction
methods as still used by Vickers in Britain.13 It also argued that
transport costs precluded making many major components at sites
other than Cockatoo Island, and expressed some scepticism about
the ability of other Australian companies to manufacture to qual-
ity control standards or to deliver on time.14
The failure to embrace modern practices, particularly modular
construction, and the lack of enthusiasm for a wider Australian
industry involvement later were to tell against Cockatoo as these
themes became holy dogma for the leaders of the new submarine
project. Also telling was that the report admitted it would be diffi-
cult to meet the navy’s desire to have the new submarines by 2003
unless two submarines were built overseas.15
During 1980 and 1981 the requirements for a new submarine
were put together in what at first appears to have been a fairly
random manner by various elements of the submarine community.
To some extent the early planning for the new submarines appears
to have become a matter of compiling a submariners’ wish list of
what the ideal submarine would look like.
In 1980 Peter Horobin was posted to the directorate of sub-
marine policy after commanding Otama. He began by putting
together the case for why Australia should have submarines, look-
ing at the role of submarines at that time and 20 years ahead. In
simple terms, intelligence gathering was the most important rea-
son. When he had demonstrated that submarines were necessary,
the question then became, ‘what sort of submarines?’ He con-
cluded there were no suitable designs because none met the range
performance desired by the navy.
In 1980, as the program began to take shape, Lieutenant
Frank Owen was appointed ‘follow-on submarine project officer’
attached to the directorate of submarine policy. His job was to
pull together the key characteristics of the new submarine. Owen
recalls that the first big argument they had to win was for big,
long-range submarines rather than small, short-range submarines
based in the north at Cairns or Darwin. He put together a substan-
tial paper on this issue and by early 1982 had achieved broad sup-
port for both the proposed characteristics of the new submarines
and for investigating their construction in Australia. Gaining the
endorsement of the operational requirements committee was rea-
sonably straightforward, but it proved more difficult to convince
the force structure committee.
One of the roles of this committee was to assess each new
equipment project against defence policy to identify its priority
for the money the government had allocated over the next five
years. Its power lay in recommending the funding for projects in
future budgets. A limited allocation could delay a project by years
or, if other projects were considered more important, a diversion
of funds could force a fundamental change in the nature of the new
submarine force. Service people were suspicious of the committee
because most of its members were civilians (although its decisions
were not made on a vote) and it was chaired by a deputy sec-
retary of the department who was also responsible for the force
development and analysis division.
From May 1982 the chair was Alan Wrigley, recruited to the
Defence Department in 1975 to help establish force development
and analysis. He was to become the staunchest critic of the navy’s
proposals for a new submarine. Wrigley’s major weapon, he says,
was the ambition of the submariners. At each stage of develop-
ment the submarine project would be likely to cost more than
previously thought and, importantly, more than was allocated in
future spending plans. Since future financial allocations were fixed
by government, each additional cost increase would again place

the new submarine in competition with other projects and again
subject it to re-evaluation.
While the nature of the submarine project was being debated
at the top levels of the Defence Department, the submariners were
persistent in maintaining their views on what the project should
look like. Frank Owen saw the specifications that were drawn up
for the new submarine as ambitious and challenging, but the navy
wanted a 1998 solution not a 1978 solution. Looking back, he is
surprised that the requirements that he drew up as a junior officer
in 1980 and 1981 remained the basis for planning the submarines
for the life of the project.
CHAPTER 4
The new submarine project
In February 1982 the new submarine project gathered momen-

tum when a project office was set up, headed by Captain Graham
White, with the original staff consisting of three experienced sub-
marine officers, Commanders Ian Noble, Rod Fayle and Tony
Carter. Over the next few years the project office was joined by an
assortment of submariners, engineers, naval architects and others,
some of whom – like Greg Stuart, Mark Gairey, John Batten,
David Elliston and Andy Millar – stayed with the project for many
years. As navy personnel came and went on their short rotations
and the contractors’ staff was almost as fluid, the project office
provided essential continuity for the project. The project office
was the largest repository of knowledge about the project and the
technical staff made an enormous contribution to its success.
Graham White had been a flight deck engineer on HMAS
Melbourne and volunteered for the submarine service when he
saw the carrier successfully attacked by a British submarine while
on exercises in the South China Sea. As with others of his gener-
ation, he trained in the United Kingdom and served on British
submarines and as standby engineer during the construction
of Australia’s fourth Oberon. He returned to Australia for the
30
THE NEW SUBMARINE PROJECT 31
management of the Fremantle patrol boat project and the last

two Oberons. In late 1981 he was appointed first project director
for the new submarine project.
White recalls that the first tasks were to look at what Aus-
tralia needed in a new submarine, whether it should be nuclear or
diesel-electric, what was available from overseas, and what lessons
could be learnt from the aircraft carrier project, the navy’s previ-
ous attempt at a major purchase. This had ended with no aircraft
carrier and the loss of the navy’s fixed wing aircraft; the failure of
the new submarine project would have similar consequences for
the submarine squadron.
Rod Fayle was the operational requirements manager for the
project, with the responsibility of ensuring that the submarine
could do the job the navy wanted it to. Known as one of the most
adventurous of the Oberon commanders, Fayle was in charge
of guiding the requirements for the new submarines through the
higher defence committees. Although he was frustrated by civil-
ians ‘who did not know how to spell submarine, let alone what
they could do’, he appreciated that the process brought some
intellectual rigour into the case for submarines.1
The final distillation of the arguments developed by the project
office was released in February 1983 and later summarised
in a minute, ‘Justification of capability for the new con-
struction submarine’.2 This centred the strategic arguments for
submarines on the value of their covert intelligence-gathering
operations in peacetime and their deterrent value requiring a dis-
proportionate response from an enemy in wartime. Maintaining
a submarine threat would remain easier than defending against
one, as there was no sign of technical breakthroughs improv-
ing the detection of submarines. Submarines could also counter
hostile submarines and provide training for anti-submarine
warfare.
The project office argued for a long-range design, primarily
because of Australia’s position surrounded by vast oceans. Further,
it cited wartime experience that submarines were more effective
in offensive forward area operations than for coastal defence, and
that in peacetime better intelligence was gained in forward areas
(meaning for Australia the waters from the Bay of Bengal to Vladi-
vostok). Forward operations required an undetected approach
and remaining on station as long as possible. Long range should
therefore be complemented by great submerged endurance, rapid

battery recharging (to limit the time that a submarine was vulner-
able to detection while running its diesels), deep diving depth and
speed. The length of time a submarine could stay on station was
a function of capacity for stores and spares and the endurance of
the crew: 70 days was regarded as a reasonable maximum patrol
length for the new submarines.
A long range demanded a large submarine of at least 2000
tonnes to allow for a large weapon load, crew comfort, and
fitting the sensors, processors, display consoles and communi-
cations hardware of the proposed combat system. Further, the
desire for towed array and flank array sonars also required a
large submarine.3 Only a towed array sonar could provide suffi-
cient confidence to attack a target with over-the-horizon weapons
like Harpoon missiles. Thus Fayle’s debate with the civilians was
joined over the appropriate size and range of the new submarines.
It was held several times, as many defence civilians were not con-
vinced by the big submarines/long range arguments, particularly
as the costs became apparent.
Alan Wrigley led the opposition to large submarines. An aero-
nautical engineer recruited to apply quantitative analysis and a
critical understanding of policy to decisions on the development of
the defence force, he thought that the navy’s submarine proposal
had ‘got a long way without a rigorous examination’. Wrigley saw
a serious contradiction in the navy’s case. The project was suppos-
edly urgent and not to be delayed by extensive analysis because of
the Oberons’ age, yet, he noted: ‘The navy’s approach was depen-
dent on a solution with a large level of risk for the unique design
and proposed Australian construction program that was almost
guaranteed to cause delays.’4
Government policy was that the armed forces should be devel-
oped primarily for the defence of Australia and to deter or counter
threats that might come through the archipelagos to Australia’s
north. This meant being able to cope with possible conflicts or
instability in Indonesia and the approaches to Australia. Well
travelled through the Indonesian archipelago, Wrigley knew that
the sea floor was often visible in these waters and believed large
submarines would be extremely vulnerable.
Some senior Australian politicians were impressed by Ameri-
can praise of the value of intelligence gathered by the Oberons,
but Wrigley suspected the Americans were encouraged by the
Australian submariners, to help the Australians extract political

benefits from their long-range intelligence missions. However,
spying for the Americans was not central to defence policy and
Wrigley’s job was to recommend the financing of military equip-
ment in keeping with defence policy. As that policy focused on
Indonesian and south-east Asian waters, Wrigley reasoned that a
submarine more like those operated in the Baltic was appropri-
ate. Bases in Darwin or mother ships could be used to overcome
any problems of inadequate range. He considered tendentious the
navy’s argument that the submarines should be based far to the
south for safety. The remorselessly increasing cost of the sub-
marine project gave Wrigley plenty of opportunities to press his
arguments.
Although most connected with the project argue that con-
ventional submarines can meet Australia’s needs, almost all
submariners agree that nuclear propulsion is best.5 All early
studies assumed the new submarines would have conventional
diesel-electric propulsion, but in 1982 the project team looked
closely at the arguments for nuclear submarines, talking with
the three Western nuclear submarine makers – the United States,
Britain and France.6 The United States would not sell its nuclear
technology to Australia; the British could not sell nuclear tech-
nology to third parties because of their commitments to the
Americans; but the French were interested. They estimated
that their small nuclear attack submarine, the Rubis, was only
about 1.7 times more expensive than French conventional boats,
although these construction costs did not include the infrastruc-
ture required to support nuclear submarines in Australia.
Graham White recalls that the Rubis was an elegant design
that overcame many of the faults with other nuclear submarines.
The French would happily have sold the Rubis, but the arguments
against buying them were strong. They would have to be built in
France and the Australian navy would always be reliant on the
French to support them; the costs of fuelling and refuelling would
be high; and there would have to be a massive investment in sup-
porting infrastructure, as no country without nuclear power sta-
tions has had nuclear submarines. Consequently, the navy would
have resisted nuclear submarines from fear that the massive cost
would mean less money for surface ships.
Conversations with the French continued until after the March
1983 election, when the Labor Party’s victory made improbable
the purchase of nuclear submarines. Not only was the ALP

strongly anti-nuclear, but it strongly opposed the French nuclear
testing program in the Pacific.
Graham White always appreciated the high quality of the train-
ing he received from the Royal Navy, but found the British logisti-
cal support for the Oberons was expensive and frequently delayed
repairs and maintenance. This led him to consider the possibili-
ties of building in Australia as a way of ensuring better long-term
support for the new submarines. About a month after he became
project director he gave Bill Rourke a presentation on the strategy
for the project and he recalls that: ‘As I began to make a strong
argument for an Australian build (largely based on the Oberon
logistic experience) he politely terminated the presentation and
said “demonstrate to me the merits of building in Australia”.’
White agreed this was a wise direction as it disciplined the project
team into ‘doing its research thoroughly and developing cogent
arguments for every aspect of the project before engaging the
approval process’.
While the fundamental requirements for the new submarine –
size, range, propulsion – were being developed by the project
office and debated through the various defence committees, the
specifications for the combat system were undergoing a dif-
ferent gestation process. At the SWSC the talk over beers at
the end of a long day was often about the ideal submarine
combat system. Encouraged by their success with the Oberon
upgrade, staff at the centre scoffed at the mundane technology
on existing submarines and dreamed of designing the world’s best
combat system. While they believed they were only anticipating
technological developments, others thought their vision took on
elements of fantasy that were never fully removed from the formal
requirements.7
Rick Neilson recalls that when he and Andrew Johnson heard
about the new submarine project in about 1980, they immedi-
ately said: ‘Whatever boat we buy, we don’t want the combat
system that it will have in it.’ This prompted them to brief Ian
MacDougall, the commander of the submarine squadron, on their
vision of the combat system for the new submarine. Flushed with
confidence from the success of the Oberon update, they felt they
knew what the next generation combat system should be like.
It would not be purchased ‘off the shelf’ – they knew what was
available and none matched what they had done with the Oberons,
let alone their vision of the future.
In the early 1980s it was revolutionary to think of the com-
bat system separately – the combat system had been standard
equipment in the Oberons. Andrew Johnson, Rick Neilson and
the team at the SWSC were not interested in the selection of the
submarine hull and thought no submarine builder would provide
them with the combat system they wanted, so they broke the two
things apart. By the time the acquisition strategy was put together
in 1982 it was clear that the platform and the combat system
were two different things – they should be developed and built
separately and then integrated.
The new Oberon combat system worked well but had a wide
variety of displays, consoles and software, and the control room
was crammed with black boxes that could not talk to each other.
It had seven different types of display, seven different processors
and seven different languages. Spares for all the displays and pro-
cessors could not be carried on board and training was extremely
complicated.8
Andrew Johnson was the development leader and conceived
the idea of using common consoles, common processors and a
common language to avoid these problems. Instead of a central
mainframe computer performing all the data analysis, the new
system would use a data bus to distribute information to a num-
ber of computers, each of which would be capable of acquiring
and processing information from any of the submarine’s sensors –
what was known in the computer jargon of the time as distributed
architecture.
The submarine operators at the SWSC and at the project office
quickly seized on this vision. Peter Briggs recalls that they began
giving a series of good lunches at HMAS Watson for the various
combat system makers and told them of their ideas for the new
system. ‘They all shook their heads and said it couldn’t be done.’9
Despite the scepticism of those who would be asked to build it, the
concept of a fully integrated combat system with distributed archi-
tecture became part of the requirements for the new submarine.
The attitude of the submariners, inspired by the Oberon update,
was: ‘We don’t want yesterday’s system. We want tomorrow’s!’
In 1981 Captain Orm Cooper was the director of naval
weapons design, and recalls that one thing that particularly
worried him with the new combat system specifications was Peter
Briggs’ insistence that it be able to assimilate and correlate up to
1000 contacts simultaneously, and reduce them to the six most
threatening contacts. This demanded enormous data processing
power and was a major technical challenge, but Briggs always
postulated sitting off the straits of Malacca where the submarine
had to know what was going on when there were ships and boats
everywhere.
The requirements that emerged from the combined efforts of
the various groups over several years and were issued in February
1983 were for a large submarine with a range of 10 000 nautical
miles; submerged endurance of 10 weeks; an indiscretion rate and
noise signature significantly better than the Oberons; 25–30 per
cent faster; better availability for operations; cheaper, quicker and
less frequent refits; and a modern combat system.
But where were the new submarines to be built? At Vickers’
yards at Barrow alongside the Royal Navy’s mighty nuclear sub-
marines? At another European shipyard? At one of Australia’s
historic naval dockyards, Cockatoo Island or Williamstown? And
how would they be built? By the traditional craft methods of
Vickers at Barrow or Electric Boat at Groton, Connecticut? Or
with the new modular construction techniques being developed
by European submarine builders? And would Australian indus-
try be tossed a few crumbs off the table or did the project offer
genuine potential for industrial regeneration and technological
progress? The surprising answers that were developed to these
questions came from an even more surprising source – a little-
known and now forgotten engineering company, headed by a
German described as ‘the most difficult man you will ever meet’10
and an Australian engineer with expertise in falling bridges and
offshore oil platforms.
CHAPTER 5
‘We can’t build submarines, go away’:
Eglo Engineering and the submarine
project
The story of the Collins class submarines is full of larger than

life characters, but none more so than the inimitable Hans Ohff –
fiery, dedicated, dogmatic and brilliant, he played a little-known
but critical role in the birth of the project, before returning to cen-
tre stage as the managing director of the Australian Submarine
Corporation in the project’s most controversial phase. Hans Ohff
grew up near Hamburg and came to Australia in 1967 after train-
ing in engineering and economics. During his engineering training
he did a full apprenticeship in marine engineering and when he
signed up to come to Australia ‘for the adventure’ on a £10 fare
he was accepted on the basis of his tradesman’s certificate rather
than his university qualifications, which were not recognised in
Australia.1
Ohff got a job with Eglo Engineering Services counting nuts
and bolts in their workshop in Sydney. Eglo had been founded in
about 1952 by Eric Glowatsky and became a public company in
1966, when it had about 300 employees.
Hans Ohff moved to Melbourne to become Eglo’s chief esti-
mator and procurement manager, working on the Shell refinery
at Corio and building oil and gas platforms for Bass Strait. Eglo
37
received an enormous boost when it won the contract to do the

mechanical installation for the world’s largest copper mine on
Bougainville. The job was bigger than the company several times
over, but it was completed successfully and the profits from that
one job were greater than the shareholder equity in the firm.
Hans Ohff became engineering manager of Eglo in 1972 at
the age of 31, with overall technical responsibility for the group.
Two years later the company’s major competitor ‘fell down with
the lower Yarra Bridge’, leaving Eglo as the leading mechani-
cal engineering contractor in Australia. In 1979 turnover was
$46 million and the annual report noted that: ‘The principal
activities of the Group centre around the engineering and fabrica-
tion of production platforms for companies engaged in offshore
oil and gas production and onshore petroleum production, the
petrochemical industry, materials handling pipelines, the mining
industry, near shore marine structures such as jetties and loading
terminals as well as extensive workshop fabrication of such items
as cranes, marine barges, drilling platforms, pressure vessels, steel
tanks, heat exchangers and condensers.’2 During the late 1970s
and early 1980s the company built all the Bass Strait platforms for
Esso-BHP and many other projects in the minerals and petroleum
sector. Its achievements were capped in 1982 when Eglo was voted
the ‘most successful public company in Australia’.
Eglo was one of the first major Australian companies that
sought to circumvent the rigidities of the Australian industrial
relations system. Union demarcation disputes caused continuing
problems during oil platform construction and Ohff decided there
should be no more than 300 workers on any one job to restrict
union problems. Consequently, Eglo established a new yard at
Osborne near Port Adelaide to build a variety of marine structures
including ships. Supported by the South Australian government,
Eglo sought to limit the number of unions at the new yard and
worked with the unions to introduce more flexible working meth-
ods. At an Arbitration Commission hearing, evidence was given
that the
South Australian Government had a deliberate policy to

prove that ship building can be done along modern
engineering lines with modern engineering techniques, and at
the Osborne site the State Government was trying to show
WE CAN’T BUILD SUBMARINES, GO AWAY 39
that it could be done. Instead of building a ship on

conventional lines in a shipyard, the work at the Osborne site
was showing that you can take a heavy engineering
establishment and build a ship.3
The site was later to expand into that which built the Collins class
submarines. It was an Australian pioneer of novel shipbuilding
techniques and more flexible working arrangements.
As the 1970s resources boom faded in the early 1980s Hans
Ohff realised that future work for Eglo Engineering lay beyond
the resources sector. It was then the British Vickers company
approached Eglo to assist with the feasibility study for the
next Australian submarine. Hans Ohff, always fascinated by
submarines, quickly became enthusiastic about Eglo becoming
involved in building them. However, he concluded that Vickers did
not want to build in Australia but at most to assemble imported
submarine ‘kits’ at Cockatoo Island or send some Australian com-
ponents to Britain.
But Hans Ohff was convinced that submarines could be built in
Australia. Often angered by Australian insecurity and reluctance
to take on big projects, Ohff was sure all the capabilities were
present and proof was all that was needed. As he says, ‘I was
innocent enough to believe that we would be capable of doing
it, but once you’re in it you curse yourself for being so stupid
in taking it on’. He saw the submarine project as providing a
massive contract for his company but, beyond this, as revitalising
Australia’s manufacturing industry.
Eglo was an Australian listed stock and had majority Aus-
tralian ownership but was partly owned by a German company,
and with Hans Ohff as its public face it was widely regarded as
German. Ohff felt it needed an Australian image, so he recruited
Dr John White from Woodside Petroleum. White had ‘a good
engineering brain and very clear thought processes’ and Ohff
approached him to run a campaign to build the new submarines
in Australia, with Eglo as the prime contractor.
John White had trained in civil engineering at the University
of Adelaide before working at the federal Department of Works,
where he was a structural engineer on projects like the Black
Mountain telecommunications tower and the Casuarina Hospital
in Darwin. He was involved in the investigation into the collapse
of the West Gate Bridge in Melbourne, and then began studying

the engineering of deep water off-shore platforms. There had been
some structural failures in the North Sea rigs due to buckling of
steel plates under large loads. Observing that the legs of offshore
platforms were not dissimilar to submarine hulls, he went to the
Naval Construction Research Establishment at Dunfermline to
study the construction of submarines.
White returned to work for Woodside Petroleum after finish-
ing a PhD at Cambridge in 1977. He supervised the design and
construction of the North Rankin A platform and then built a
flare tower for Eglo Engineering at its new yard at Osborne on
the Port River. By the early 1980s White felt that the Woodside
project was finishing its exciting phase and he was receptive to
Hans Ohff’s invitation to come to Eglo at a time when the end of
the resources boom had left engineering in recession.
John White and Hans Ohff began to lobby for the submarines
to be built in Australia, talking with federal and state governments,
industry, unions, the navy – to anyone who would listen and to
many who would not. They argued that Australia had built off-
shore platforms such as the flare tower for Woodside, with large
diameter legs able to withstand sea pressure at 125 metres. It could
build submarine hulls with the same skills and technology, which
would create many jobs and lead to the acquisition of important
new technologies.
Eglo realised that its vision could be achieved only in partner-
ship with a British or European submarine designer. In the early
1980s there were only seven companies in the world with the
skills to design and supervise the construction of submarines
in Australia.4 Ohff was sceptical of Vickers’ commitment to
Australia, and its ties to Cockatoo Island would see little work
for Eglo. He feared naval traditions would favour Vickers so he
and John White went to Europe to manufacture a competition in
partnership with the submarine builder most likely to help them
beat the British.
They looked at all the contenders: Vickers in Britain, Kockums
in Sweden, HDW and Thyssen in Germany, the Rotterdam Dock-
yard in Holland and Chantiers Dubigeon in France. HDW gave
them little recognition; there was more interest from Thyssen, yet
they felt that HDW probably had the best submarines. It also had
experience of technology transfer through its Turkish and Indian
projects. Ohff and White were intrigued by the Swedes. They had
known little about them before the visit, but were impressed by
their good English, engineering skills, technical innovation, hon-
esty and general likeability. The Dutch had the only submarine
that approached compliance with the Australian requirements,
but it was hard to build and expensive. Ohff and White felt Vickers
treated them with complete disdain, despite their archaic facilities
and union-dominated yards.
Ohff and White decided that pro-British sentiment in Australia
and a lingering anti-German feeling would prevent the Germans
beating Vickers in a head-to-head contest, so they decided that
Eglo should try to create a viable, if unlikely, third competitor.
Consequently, they continued talking with the Swedes, and pro-
moted them vigorously in Australia. In 1982 Eglo Engineering
formed a joint venture with Kockums to put together a bid – on
the basis that either side could opt out if it believed the bid would
not win.5
The currents of history and the vagaries of luck came together
to favour the campaign to build submarines in Australia. The
growth of the Australian economy since 1945 came to a sud-
den end in 1974 when the profligacy of the Whitlam government
coincided with the first oil shock to produce a severe recession
accompanied by rampant inflation. High unemployment and high
inflation continued throughout the Fraser government of 1975–
83, leading to a rising groundswell of opinion questioning the
central tenets of the ‘Deakinite settlement’ that had been the basis
of Australian public policy since the early years of federation.
The settlement had been based on the White Australia policy,
centralised wage fixing and protection of industry. It was inher-
ently introspective, defensive and dependent, fostering ‘a weak
domestically oriented business culture and a union mythology
of a workers’ paradise’.6 After a century of protectionism,
Australian manufacturing industry was inefficient, uncompetitive
and focused on making products for the small domestic market.
Unusually for a developed country, Australia’s exports were over-
whelmingly of primary products, leaving it highly vulnerable to
price fluctuations on world markets.
The nature and causes of and remedies for the structural defi-
ciencies of the Australian economy were fiercely debated through-
out the 1980s and a consensus emerged – transcending traditional
political boundaries – that the Australian economy should be more

open and competitive, with a more flexible and better-educated
workforce. Support for this view came from the ‘dries’ in the Lib-
eral party, from within all factions of the Labor party and even
from notoriously militant trade union leaders. Equally, opposi-
tion came from across the whole traditional political spectrum.
Reform proved too hard for the Liberal government of 1975–83
and little was done until the election of the Labor government in
March 1983.
The refusal to take risks permeated all levels of the Fraser min-
istry. Hans Ohff remembers calling on the Minister for Defence
Support in the Fraser government to discuss building submarines
in Australia, but he ‘wouldn’t have a bar of it, saying “We can’t
build submarines – go away”’.
The final years of the Fraser government saw a wages explosion
destabilise the economy.7 The $4 billion deficit of treasurer John
Howard’s 1982 budget contributed to the worst recession since
the 1930s, with unemployment peaking at over 10 per cent in
mid-1983. Over 100 000 jobs were lost in the metal trades alone
between June 1982 and June 1983.
These circumstances prompted many left-wing union leaders
such as Laurie Carmichael, John Halfpenny and George Campbell
to support the Labor Party’s ‘accord’ with the union movement
to control wage increases. Beyond that, it inspired them to look
further than seeking a bigger share of the cake for workers, to
asking why the cake was shrinking and how it might be made
to grow again. Carmichael was one of the authors of Australia
reconstructed, a union plan inspired by the Swedish economy and
industrial relations system, calling for a more open and competi-
tive economy, with a more skilled and flexible workforce.8
The influence of the Swedish model was also strong in the
Labor Party, particularly among some of the key ministers in
the Hawke government. John Button wrote of his first visit: ‘I
had an impression of Sweden as a country where social harmony
coexisted with efficient and high quality manufacturing . . . it
seemed a contented, well-ordered place.’9 He was impressed with
the emphasis on research and development in Sweden and the
collaboration between government and industry, within the con-
text of a free market and an open economy. Similarly, Brian Howe
was attracted to the Swedish model of industrial relations in which
the workforce was valued and involved. He saw manufacturing

conditions in Swedish factories as being much better for workers
than in Australia and was impressed with the enormous emphasis
on training and reskilling the workforce.
The consequence of these many interlocking factors was to
provide support for the campaign begun by Hans Ohff and John
White to build submarines in Australia. These influences are
reflected in a speech made in 1992 by Senator Robert Ray as
Labor’s Minister for Defence. He argued that, quite indepen-
dent of any military considerations, the decision to build the sub-
marines in Australia ‘was to benefit Australia, not only through
job creation but also through technology transfer, creation of new
skills, improved quality practices and . . . development of modern
management techniques and the introduction of new and more
progressive industrial relations practices’.10
In mid-1982 the economically and industrially focused cam-
paign run by Hans Ohff and Eglo Engineering to build submarines
in Australia came together with the navy’s nascent project to
replace the Oberons. The project director, Captain Graham White,
was sitting in his office in Campbell Park West in Canberra (where
old sailors were sent to forget the smell of the sea) when the secu-
rity guard called him and said there were two people who wanted
to talk about submarines. Soon White was listening to Hans Ohff
in his fluent, but strongly accented English saying: ‘I’m just a
square-headed German – if I annoy you, just tell me to leave.’ But
Graham White listened, while Hans Ohff and John White talked
about building submarines in Australia. Graham White had never
heard of Eglo before. He had thought there would be logistical
advantages in building in Australia, but did not know whether
submarines were within the capabilities of Australian industry.
The three talked for hours and Graham White became convinced
that ‘it was not only possible to build in Australia, but it was
essential’.11
CHAPTER 6
The acts of the apostles
The commitment of Graham White and the project office to build-

ing in Australia had dramatic and far-reaching consequences for
the new submarine project. Most significantly, it harnessed sup-
port for the project from many groups that would otherwise have
been indifferent or even opposed to buying submarines, notably
the left wing of the Labor Party and the trade unions. Without
this broad base of support, it is likely that the project would have
been considered too hard and expensive and fallen victim to the
balance of payments crisis in the mid-1980s.
The project office joined Hans Ohff and John White as the
leading apostles for building the submarines in Australia, widely
preaching their gospel, the central tenets of which were industrial
regeneration, technology transfer, modular construction, quality
assurance and industrial relations reform.
In early 1984 a third force appeared when Jim Duncan, a for-
mer naval electrical engineer, was appointed to lead the South
Australian submarine task force created to get the submarines
built in South Australia. Duncan had served with Graham White
on HMAS Vampire and they shared a similar attitude to many
issues, notably the problems of Australia’s old naval dockyards
44
THE ACTS OF THE APOSTLES 45
and the navy’s lingering colonial dependence on Britain. Duncan

also had close links with Eglo Engineering, developed through
Eglo’s construction work at Port Adelaide. On 7 April 1984 he
recorded in his diary:
Lunch at home with John White from 1200–1730.
Discussion centred on philosophy of Eglo’s proposal. It also
served to bring John and I to a closer understanding of the
way we each think. John is a gifted person who genuinely
believes in the national issues at stake with this programme. I
feel very pleased we are fellow travellers. It would seem to me
that all the factors necessary for success of this programme
are synchronised in time and place.1
Jim Duncan realised that South Australia could not compete

against the political clout of New South Wales and Victoria and
the pressure to sustain the old dockyards at Cockatoo Island and
Williamstown. He saw that South Australia had to present the
case for a fresh site free from the constraints of the poor indus-
trial relations, inefficient work practices and outdated technical
processes in the old dockyards. Consequently, the case he put
together emphasised South Australia’s relatively good industrial
relations record and the possibilities for industrial regeneration,
involving issues such as modular construction, quality assurance
and the Australian adoption of high technology.2 Jim Duncan and
the South Australian premier, John Bannon, formed an effective
lobbying team, focusing attention on industrial modernisation and
undermining the chances of the traditional shipyards.
The challenges of logistic support had created some interest
within the navy for building the Oberons’ successors in Australia,
and the benefits from local production increased as military
equipment became more complex. Orm Cooper recalls that the
destroyer HMAS Perth was delivered from the United States with
no documentation and spare parts sufficient for only 18 months.
Planning for continuing support was inadequate and the navy paid
a fortune for both spare parts and documents. As deputy director
of naval matériel, Cooper had to send his people into the library at
the American navy base at Subic Bay to photocopy the documents
they needed.
Admiral Bill Rourke, in particular, ‘carried the torch for an
Australian build’ and did much to have the idea accepted (if ever so
reluctantly) by the defence bureaucracy.3 While British support of

the Oberons was generally better than with Perth, the submarines
were still highly dependent on the Royal Navy and British compa-
nies for technical knowledge, supplies and spare parts. Cockatoo
Island had become proficient at refitting the Oberons, building up
both knowledge and a hoard of spare parts, but it was always
at the end of a long supply chain that could be easily disrupted.
During the Falklands War in 1982 it became impossible to get
spare parts for the Oberons. The navy believed building the new
submarines in Australia would lessen logistics dependence on an
overseas builder and navy.
However, better through-life support would not have been suf-
ficient justification to overcome the strong preference for overseas-
sourced equipment then held within the Defence Department. The
chief of air force technical services, Air Vice Marshall Lyndon
Compton, said: ‘Certainly in the RAAF we generally are not over
enthused about something being made in Australia . . . because it
usually leads us into a large management task, a lot of problems,
delays in deliveries, cost overruns, failure to meet performance and
so on.’4 The same feeling was widespread in the army, navy and
the defence bureaucracy. There were few contacts between defence
and industry and widespread scepticism about the capabilities of
Australian industry. The naval dockyards, with high standards but
slow and expensive work practices and ancient equipment, were
the limit of most naval officers’ knowledge of industry. Many
believed attempting to build submarines in Australia was an invi-
tation to disaster, a view shared by a large number of civilian
policy makers in Canberra.
Graham White realised that there would be strong opposition
to building in Australia so, with the encouragement of Hans Ohff
and John White, the case was developed and extended. Graham
White recalls that the team covered much ground that was com-
pletely new for a defence project in a rapid but comprehensive
learning process. They explored the problems and capabilities of
Australian industry, learnt of innovations such as quality systems
and modular construction, and investigated the macro-economic
impact of Australian construction.
One of White’s first moves was to ask the Australian Taxation
Office about the taxation impact of building the submarines in
Australia. He was thinking in terms of wages coming back into
the government’s coffers as tax payments and money circulating

in the economy. The tax office said that nobody had asked them
a question like that before, but when they did a study they found
that the multiplier effects were dramatic. The argument that it was
more expensive to build in Australia never took this into account.
The financial case for building in Australia was taken further
by the South Australian task force in its 1984 ‘Study of the finan-
cial costs and benefits of constructing submarines in Australia’.
This showed that the Commonwealth’s increased tax revenues
would more than cover any extra cost associated with building
in Australia, which would also help counter Australia’s chronic
trade deficit and have a positive impact on the broader economy.5
Armed with these new arguments, the project team left the
sheltered confines of Campbell Park, not to go overseas with a
chequebook, but to go out to Australian industry to find out what
could and could not be done in Australia. They had to sell the
idea that it was possible to build the submarines in Australia and
persuade industry to accept the quality requirements for defence
work.
There was much scepticism about the project in industry. Gra-
ham White recalls a presentation at a Business Council lunch after
which Brian Loton, the managing director of BHP, commented to
him: ‘We can’t do these things in Australia – give up on the idea.’
This attitude was understandable. Industrial malaise had
gripped Australian industry since 1974, and decades of protec-
tion had produced a narrow, inward-looking focus, creating pes-
simism about Australian manufacturing. The current model for
industry participation in defence projects was through ‘offsets’ –
work given to Australian companies by overseas suppliers who
had received contracts to supply defence equipment. However,
reports in 1981 and 1984 found that offsets had been of little
benefit except for the aerospace industry. They had failed to pro-
duce significant technology transfer and frequently the cost of the
offsets was simply added to the price of the equipment. Further,
only 25 per cent of defence offset commitments were ever com-
pleted and, of those that were, one company, Hawker de Havil-
land, received one-third.6 Industry needed to be convinced that
the submarine project offered more.
A key area was steel, because making and working special-
ist steels is essential for submarine construction. There was a
widespread belief that Australia could not make the light, strong,
high-yield steel required, and at first the project team did not ques-
tion this. They made enquiries overseas to source steel supplies and
were surprised when foreign manufacturers replied that Bunge
Industrial Steels in Port Kembla was a world leader in high-yield
steel. The team was assured by Bunge’s chemist and production
manager that such steel could be supplied. Told 12 000 tonnes
would be needed, the production manager said Bunge could sup-
ply it in a fortnight if they worked double shifts.
After this, the project team began applying the same test to
everything: ‘You can’t build static converters in Australia’; ‘Who
says so?’ and they would go looking – often beginning with the
Yellow Pages – for Australian companies that made a particu-
lar product or were involved in a particular area. In most cases
they were surprised at how many Australian companies could do
the work, although most had no previous experience of defence
work.
Another central issue for the project team was quality assur-
ance. Sheltered behind high tariffs, Australian manufacturing had
never had to compete on quality, and standards were variable at
best and appalling at worst. Attempts to implement international
standards in Australia were first made in the late 1970s, for the
Oberon refits. The new submarine project became the catalyst
for the much wider diffusion of quality control systems. Defence
work, and submarine construction in particular, demands higher
quality than normal, and in the early 1980s only 35 Australian
companies were certified. To achieve the building (rather than
just assembly) of submarines in Australia, companies across a
broad range of industries had to be able to meet the required
standards. The South Australian task force gave enormous sup-
port in this area, calculating that emphasis on quality would
favour a new site rather than the archaic dockyards in the eastern
states.
The project team spread the word about quality assurance
and quality control. They had to persuade companies to invest
in gaining quality assurance accreditation. This was hard to jus-
tify just for six submarines, so they emphasised the broader view
that the step would bring wider benefits, particularly in open-
ing export markets. The campaign was highly successful and by
1998 more than 1500 companies were certified for defence work,
with quality assurance and quality control systems accepted in

Australian industry.7
Graham White and Rod Fayle, along with many others
involved in the new submarine project, had seen the construc-
tion of the Oberons in Scotland. Here they saw at first hand the
methods vividly described in this account of a fictional Oberon,
HMS Seahorse:
[During a tour of Seahorse a scientist asked the engineer:]

‘How do you figure out all these pipe systems? They don’t
seem to lead anywhere.’
‘Actually, these systems are better than most, [the
engineer] said. ‘They’ve been planned on a mock-up first,
before they were ever put into a submarine. Most submarine
systems look as though they were designed by Salvador Dali.
Of course, they were put in under the old Olympic System.’
‘The Olympic System?’
‘The fastest dockyard matie won, sir. Every morning
while the submarine was building the men from the various
dockyard departments lined up on the dockside holding their
bits of pipe. Then when the whistle blew they all doubled on
board and the man who got there first had a straight run. The
others had to bend their pipes round his. The beauty of the
system was that it didn’t matter what size the pipes were. If
the electrician was particularly agile he could put his bit of
quarter-inch electric cable in first and watch the boiler-maker
bend his length of eight-inch diameter special steel piping
round it.’8
The consequence of this haphazard building method was that

every Oberon was different and needed its own dedicated set of
drawings.
Scott’s at Greenock – like Vickers at Barrow, Electric Boat at
Groton in Connecticut, and the traditional shipyards in Australia –
was a massive industrial site, with hundreds or even thousands of
workers, who needed a continual stream of work. The process of
building a submarine at these shipyards was vividly described by
Patrick Tyler in his classic account of the chaotic building pro-
gram for the Los Angeles class submarines at Electric Boat in
Connecticut:
Climbing into a nuclear submarine under construction was

like descending into a dark desert mine, an intricate steel
honeycomb with layered decks and cramped, mazelike
passageways. The heat was the first thing to hit you. The
unlit cylinder was more than 30 feet from top to bottom, but
there was no feeling of space because the volume was filled
up with pipes, decks and machinery. What space was left was
choked with men and their cables and their shrieking power
tools. The noise, which had nowhere to go, was ear-splitting.
Sometimes the smoke and dust in the steel cave were so thick
you couldn’t see, and men ten feet away disappeared in the
dirty cloud . . .
The arc welders and gougers gave the scene a
thunderstorm effect as the lightning from their electric
torches struck the steel, raining fire and molten slag down
from scaffolding onto other men . . .
When the air got too bad, men put on their respirators
until the ventilation system caught up. It wasn’t unusual for a
welder to pass out [and] it was the watch crew’s job to drag
him out and wrestle his dead weight up the ladder and down
the stairs for the ambulance ride to the shipyard hospital. No
day passed without its siren being heard.9
Visitors from Australia observed these scenes with interest, but

they became more interested in what they saw at Malmö, in south-
ern Sweden. This was the home of the Kockums shipyard and
from the early 1980s it saw a steady stream of Australian visitors,
including Graham White, Hans Ohff, John White, Jim Duncan
and John Bannon. What they saw was starkly different to the
Dickensian chaos of Electric Boat. Kockums built submarines in
modules, with the hull being made in six sections. Parts were made
in yards and factories around Sweden and then brought to Malmö
where they were inserted into the appropriate section of the sub-
marine, in a process rather like sliding in a drawer. This made for a
clean working environment, with easy access until the submarine
was closed up by welding the sections together.
Modular construction required better design management than
the traditional reliance on the skills of the tradesmen, with highly
detailed designs allowing parts to be built at many different
locations in a completely repeatable way. This led Kockums to
become pioneers of computer-aided design and inventory control,

in which they were far ahead of any submarine builder by the
early 1980s.
Modular construction and computer-aided design resonated
closely with those Australians who saw industrial regeneration
and the development of high technology industries as central to
the new submarine project. In particular for Jim Duncan and the
South Australian team, these processes provided strong arguments
against building submarines in a traditional shipyard. Modular
design meant that the building process could be spread across
numerous companies in all parts of Australia (and even around
the world), with the assembly site being relatively small compared
to the old shipyards.
A major advantage of building the submarines on a new site
was the opportunity to escape from the disastrous industrial
relations culture of Cockatoo Island and Williamstown, crip-
pled by strikes and entrenched demarcation rules and riddled
with semi-criminal gangs. Bob Hawke told the story of chair-
ing a union meeting at Williamstown in about 1974. He asked
each union representative to give his perspective. When his turn
came, the secretary of the Painters and Dockers Union said:
‘Yes, Comrade chair, I want to tell you that we have had real
problems down at the dockyards. Fourteen of our blokes have
disappeared.’10
As a deliberate demonstration, Jim Duncan and the subma-
rine task force worked closely with Eglo Engineering to intro-
duce new methods of design and construction at its Osborne
yards and supported its efforts to introduce more efficient work
practices. In 1985 Eglo received a contract from South Australia
for a large ferry without going to tender. The ferry, the Island
Seaway, was built with computer-aided design and modular
engineering techniques. The state government then supported
Eglo’s exclusion of the Painters & Dockers Union from the yard
and worked closely with the Metal Workers Union to intro-
duce flexible demarcation arrangements between shipwrights and
boilermakers.
South Australia used the key issues of new technologies,
management practices and approaches to industrial relations to
demolish the case of the existing dockyards. In February 1985
Jim Duncan argued:
Submarine building in Australia will push the extremes of

technical and commercial risk – tight production schedules,
high costs, high quality standards and demanding the best
possible project management.
Submarines are more akin to spacecraft than surface
ships. Consequently, there is no appropriate established skill
base or suitable existing infrastructure in major Australian
shipyards. In addition, and most importantly, entrenched
attitudinal problems in these yards make the introduction of
essential state-of-the-art technology and management
practices unthinkable to attempt . . . [as this would produce]
a morass of industrial problems that would sabotage a
complex project . . .
The only real option with a chance of success is to . . .
isolate submarines from shipbuilding.11
A seminal event in the campaign to build submarines in Australia

was a seminar held on 28 September 1984 by the Institute of
Engineers at the Academy of Science in Canberra. Overcoming
some initial reluctance from the engineers, Graham White and
John White put together an impressive panel of speakers, and
attracted people from all the relevant areas – industry, politics, the
unions and the navy. Peter Horobin, who was working with Terry
Roach at the directorate of submarine policy, recalled the huge
turn-up as marking the time that ‘the pendulum went through the
centre and we said, “Yes, we can build submarines in Australia”’.
One of the most influential speakers was John Halfpenny,
the powerful, left-wing national secretary of the Metal Workers
Union. He had initially hesitated when asked to speak, but John
White persuaded him and he gave a thoughtful and articulate pre-
sentation on the importance to Australian workers and industry
of building the submarines in Australia. Reflecting on that era,
Halfpenny said:
Even though one of my main missions in life is to be a peace

activist, I also felt that we needed a good defence capability
to defend our economic interests as well as territory. I had a
view at the time, and still do, that the threat wasn’t from the
Cold War, but from Indonesia, and given that we should have
a defence industry, it should serve two purposes: it should
defend the nation’s interests, but just as importantly it should

foster and develop a strong manufacturing capability.12
John Halfpenny had great influence with the Labor govern-

ment and the union movement and was able to ‘press many of the
right buttons for the project’.
After the seminar Graham White became good friends with
Halfpenny and they spent many hours discussing the project.
White was amused that Halfpenny had previously had nothing
to do with naval officers and had thought that they were all aris-
tocratic militarists.
John Halfpenny and the Metal Workers Union were involved
in several ways in the campaign to build the new submarines in
Australia. Rod Fayle recalls that:
The rest of the navy was anti-submarine and there were big
problems keeping support for the project in the navy. A
critical element of this was to keep the price down – they had
to convince the government that it would not be too
expensive building in Australia, and a central part of this was
the development of an appropriate industrial environment.
This led the project team into negotiations with the
ACTU and especially the leaders of the Metal Workers Union
such as John Halfpenny. These blokes, who I wouldn’t have
given two bob for before, understood exactly what they
wanted and understood the need to reform industrial
practices so that shipbuilding could be kept in Australia. The
project team wanted a greenfields site with just one union
operating in order to avoid the demarcation disputes which
crippled Williamstown and Cockatoo. The project team
talked to the ACTU to minimise the industrial risk and also
to develop something like workplace agreements. The
submarine project office did not get officially involved in
these negotiations as they felt it would not look good for
uniformed officers to be talking to union officials. But in the
informal talks they got the unions to agree to the basic needs
of the project and this was central to the good industrial
relations throughout the project.13
In 1985 Kim Beazley, as Minister for Defence, set up a ministerial

liaison committee with representatives from industry, the unions,
government departments, members of parliament, the navy and

other interested groups to discuss issues concerning the new sub-
marine project. Over the previous 20 years no major defence
project had had an Australian content of more than 20 per cent,
but at one of the committee’s meetings John Halfpenny threw out
the challenge to aim for 60 per cent Australian content. Andy
Millar thinks that Halfpenny might have been joking, but the
meeting took the challenge seriously and it did much to inspire
the eventual contract target of 70 per cent.14
The election of the Labor government in March 1983 did not
have an immediate impact on the new submarine project, but in
the long term it was of critical importance. Labor’s defence policy
favoured submarines, and dismissed the option of a new aircraft
carrier.15 However, of greater importance was the role of three
ministers: Kim Beazley, John Button and Brian Howe.
Brian Howe was a surprising source of early support for the
submarine project within the Hawke government. Howe was from
the pacifist left wing of the ALP and he thinks that Bob Hawke
appointed him to the Ministry of Defence Support either as a
joke or in the hope that he would refuse. Howe had no back-
ground or great interest in defence, but he saw the ministry as an
opportunity to have an impact in two areas that he was interested
in, industrial relations and industry policy. A major issue for the
Labor government in its early years was the fate of the govern-
ment defence factories (including the Williamstown Dockyard),
for which Brian Howe was responsible in his new portfolio.
Most of these factories had been set up during the Second
World War and were maintained afterwards for defence and indus-
try policy reasons. By the 1980s they were undercapitalised, inef-
ficient and surviving on massive subsidies. It was ALP policy to
maintain these factories, so Brian Howe felt that he had to make
them work by reforming industrial relations, involving the work-
ers, increasing training and obtaining more work. Building the
new submarines would provide a shining example of how defence
work could be done – it would be a symbol of the new paradigm
in industry, a high-tech project with wide benefits (including for
the government defence factories). Since the early 1960s almost all
major purchases of military equipment had been from the United
States, and to Brian Howe and the Labor left building submarines
in Australia would be a strong statement of the party’s policy of
defence self-reliance.16
Following the December 1984 election, Howe moved on to

the Ministry of Social Security and defence minister Gordon
Scholes retired. The new defence minister was Kim Beazley, at 36
Australia’s youngest defence minister and, in the view of most
sailors – and especially submariners – the best. Brian Howe recalls
that Beazley was ‘passionate about defence; it is the one thing he
really loves and he hopped into the portfolio with great enthu-
siasm’. Beazley was well aware of the strategic value of sub-
marines, holding the view that: ‘Basically submarines are the poor
man’s weapon to cause maximum angst to a bigger enemy.’17
More fundamentally, he was a strong supporter of the Amer-
ican alliance and appreciated that intelligence exchange could
build trust and influence with the United States. Beazley under-
stood how the strategic intelligence gathered by the Oberons had
improved Australia’s standing with the Americans. Although he
was working in a government where some members were wary of
such activities, he was determined that the capability should be
retained.
Beazley deliberately worked to raise the profile of the subma-
rine arm. He felt that it was one of the components of the defence
force that was habitually undervalued, and he recalls that at one
stage he threatened to promote no more naval officers to flag rank
unless the next recommendation was for a submariner.18 It was
not a coincidence that the first (and only) submariner to become
chief of the navy, Ian MacDougall, was appointed by Kim Beazley.
Soon after taking office, Kim Beazley commissioned strategist
Paul Dibb to conduct a thorough review of Australian defence
policy and told Dibb he had ‘open slather on investigations and
the power to negotiate a consensus on force structure with Defence
and the service chiefs’. The only thing that was off limits was the
submarine project – Beazley would not allow Dibb to revise the
project objective, numbers or capabilities.19
Kim Beazley agreed with the analysis of Sir Alan Watt that:
‘Many nations must depend on others for their ultimate security
but in most cases they try to maximise their own independence
within a relationship of dependency. Australia has seemed intent
on doing the very opposite: of maximising its dependence, first on
Britain and lately on the US.’20 While strongly committed to the
American alliance, Beazley’s primary aim as defence minister was
to increase Australia’s self-reliance within the framework of the
alliance. In his view, self-reliance meant armed forces structured
and equipped to defend Australia rather than to participate in dis-

tant wars as part of an expeditionary force; equally importantly,
it meant a strong manufacturing capability to support the armed
forces.21
Graham White recalls that the first office Minister Beazley vis-
ited was the submarine project office in Fyshwick, and the first
vessel he went on was a submarine. Traditionally ministers dealt
with the uniformed members of the forces through the secretary
of the department, so Rod Fayle remembers to his surprise one
day answering the phone in the project office and finding Kim
Beazley on the other end of the line. Fayle said, ‘I’m not allowed
to talk to you’, but Beazley said that he was being given a lot
of contradictory information about the submarine project and:
‘I want to speak with someone who knows what’s going on. Come
over and speak to me.’ Fayle replied, ‘I’m not allowed to. I’ll
get into trouble’, but the minister told him, ‘You ring Admiral
Hudson [the chief of the navy] and tell him I want to speak to
you about the project.’ Rod Fayle did this, and he and Graham
White went on to spend many hours talking with Kim Beazley,
often remaining with him late into the night. The results were, on
the one hand, that Beazley was fully informed of the project and
came to see the force of the arguments for building in Australia,
and on the other, that White and Fayle became deeply unpopular
with the navy hierarchy, who felt they were being bypassed and
losing control of the project.
By 1984 the idea of building submarines in Australia had gone
well beyond the initial vague aspiration to become an important
part of the procurement process. The eventual decision to award
the submarine contract to a Swedish-led consortium owed at least
as much to the Swedes’ commitment to building in Australia and
their advanced design and building techniques as to the actual
merits of their proposed design. Jim Duncan observed in his diary
on 21 November 1984: ‘VSEL [the British bidders] are bitter that
they are being beaten by a production technology . . . they claim
that Canberra is obsessed with production technology rather than
submarine technology.’
When the Labor government came to office in March 1983,
its Senate leader, John Button, became Minister for Industry and
Commerce, a position he held for 10 years. He recalled that when
he came into office: ‘Many of the major industry associations
sought subsidies and tariffs. The unions were locked into protec-
tion as the solution to job losses in manufacturing.’22 To Button,
the cures for Australia’s economic woes did not lie in increasing
protection but in ‘revitalising manufacturing by means of better
technology, a skilled workforce and flexible work practices’ – a
similar mantra to the one coming from the submarine project
team.
John Button found Graham White ‘the most impressive of the
navy people’, and he accepted White’s arguments for building the
submarines in Australia. Button was ‘strongly opposed to buy-
ing “off-the-shelf” submarines or anything else’ and he believed
that the project could have enormous spin-offs for the revitalisa-
tion of manufacturing. Although he feels the claim that he was
responsible for the decision to build the submarines in Australia
overstates his influence, most people close to the project feel that
his role was crucial and he was one of the submarine project’s
staunchest supporters in the cabinet.
In 1984 John Button was one of several cabinet ministers to
visit Sweden. One of his meetings was at the Federation of Swedish
Industry, and he recalled that: ‘At lunch I found myself sitting
next to Mr Roger Sprimont, a former naval officer and a director
of the shipbuilding company, Kockums. It was not, I think, an
accident.’23
CHAPTER 7
‘But how will you judge them?’: the
tender evaluation process 1984–85
There appear to have been two virtually separate histories of the

new submarine project running in parallel during the mid-1980s.
On the one hand there was the campaign around Australia led
by Hans Ohff, John White, Graham White and Jim Duncan that
put forward the submarine project as a major catalyst for indus-
trial regeneration. On the other there were the bureaucratic pro-
cesses of defence procurement among a small circle within the
Department of Defence and the navy, with political involvement
in the critical decisions. Within the defence bureaucracy there was
great uncertainty about the submariners’ requirements and the
proposed purchasing strategy and little enthusiasm for building
in Australia.
It was not until December 1982 that the procurement method
was endorsed by the defence source definition committee, allow-
ing the release of formal proposals to industry. However, the
force structure committee, which assessed budgetary allocations,
imposed strong caveats on the project. It insisted on continued
investigation of the suitability of smaller submarines, and of post-
poning the project if the Oberons’ service could be extended.
Further, Alan Wrigley, the committee’s chairman, insisted that
58
BUT HOW WILL YOU JUDGE THEM? 59
Australian industry involvement should be limited.1 Wrigley con-

sidered that building an industry around the project unnecessarily
complicated the selection processes for no good reason. He was
sure that a submarine industry could not be sustained because the
type of submarine the navy wanted was too big to interest foreign
navies. Wrigley energetically pushed this view in the last months
of the Fraser government, but the change of government in March
1983 meant that he was swimming against a fast-flowing tide.2
The project team proposed a new strategy for acquiring the
submarines. The tenders sought in early 1983 would not be for
the provision of equipment but, instead, for designs and proposals
from which the two most promising would be selected for a
detailed, funded study. This stage – the project definition study –
would allow the project team to seek answers to the many
questions that could affect the viability of the project. Usually
contractual obligations enforced the manufacturer’s performance
claims. With the new submarine, the navy wanted to make its own
judgments on how the equipment would perform.
Tenderers were to explain how they would promote partic-
ipation by Australian industry in the project. The submarine
builders were required to evaluate the technical risks of building in
Australia and to put together a viable consortium capable of
becoming prime contractor for the project. The contractors were
expected to provide a product and then assist the navy to find
ways to build it locally.
In January 1983 manufacturers of ‘modern integrated combat
systems’ were invited to register interest in the project, followed
in May by a request for tenders to submarine builders. While the
former was an open request to survey the market responses, the
tender document was issued only to the seven submarine design
companies identified by the project team as viable contenders. This
was an unusual process in the regulated world of government
contracting, where open competition was usually unavoidable,
and it needed special authorisation.
The tender request stipulated that the submarine should meet
as closely as possible the navy’s required ship’s characteristics and
also be a design already in service or due in service by 1986. This
would allow the project to take advantage of sea trials conducted
by the parent navy, an area in which Australia had little experi-
ence. As a minimum, the design should be based on a submarine
already proven in service with a foreign navy, with any modifica-

tions required to meet Australian specifications to be of low risk
and cost.3 The request also stated that it would be an advantage
for a company to have had experience in building submarines in
other than their home nation.
All seven companies responded to the tender request. The
proposal from the Italian firm Cantieri Navali Riuniti was an
enlarged version of the Sauro, a design of the early 1970s. The
French company, Chartiers Dubigeon, presented a design for
a conventionally-powered version of its Rubis nuclear-powered
submarine.
Many submariners liked the design by the Dutch consortium
of designer United Shipbuilder Bureaux and shipyard de Rot-
terdamsche Droogdok Maatschappij (RDM). This was a well-
established Dutch team that had adapted the experimental ‘tear-
drop’ hull shape of the USS Albacore for modern conventional
submarines. In 1983 the Walrus, the first of a new class of sub-
marine for the Royal Netherlands Navy, and two submarines for
Taiwan, based on the earlier Dutch Zwaardvis class, were under
construction. This was the design considered by Hans Ohff as the
best but most difficult to build.
Vickers Shipbuilding and Engineering put forward the Type
2400 Upholder design. Since the late 19th century Vickers had
been one of the world’s great armaments manufacturers, but,
along with other major British shipyards, it was nationalised in
1977 to avert financial disaster. Vickers had built every British
nuclear submarine but no conventional boats after the 1960s,
except three German-designed Gal class for Israel. It had no expe-
rience of managing submarine construction programs overseas
and, even with its connections to Cockatoo Island Dockyard,
appeared less than interested in Australian production.4
Ingenieur Kontor Lübeck (IKL) was a German design company
that teamed with builder Howaltswerke-Deutsche Werft (HDW)
and trading company Ferrostaal AG to successfully export sub-
marines worldwide. It offered the IKL Type 2000 design, a devel-
oped version of a submarine that it had proposed earlier to the
United States Navy. IKL was a private submarine design company,
founded in 1946 by Ulrich Gabler, which had three customers:
the German government and the commercial submarine builders
HDW and Thyssen.
Even after re-armament in the mid-1950s the West German

navy ordered few submarines, so IKL and HDW turned to foreign
markets, becoming the world’s largest exporter of conventional
submarines. Between 1964 and 1984 they sold 46 submarines to
11 countries, representing over half of Western conventional sub-
marines, and they had built submarines in both India and Turkey.
Most of their exports were of the small Type 209, with the first
of the larger Type 1500 submarines still under construction for
India. In the early 1980s IKL and HDW were working on two new
types of submarine for the West German navy and were experi-
menting with fuel cells as a form of air-independent propulsion.5
The IKL/HDW bid was headed by Juergen Ritterhoff, the senior
designer of IKL. A short jovial man, Ritterhoff was a protégé
of Ulrich Gabler and was widely respected for his encyclopaedic
knowledge of submarine design.
Another German contender, Thyssen Nordseewerke, was part
of the Thyssen Group, one of West Germany’s largest industrial
companies. For its Australian bid Thyssen was linked with ship-
builders Blohm & Voss, experienced in managing export projects
in Norway, Nigeria and Argentina. Like HDW, Thyssen’s subma-
rine business survived on export sales. In the early 1980s it was
building two Type TR1700 submarines for Argentina in its own
yards, with a further four boats to be assembled in Argentina from
kits.
Kockums, the Swedish submarine designer and builder, was
founded in the earliest years of Swedish industrialisation, starting
as a mechanical engineering workshop in 1840. It began ship-
building in the early 1870s and built its first submarines for the
Swedish navy in 1914. The company developed a reputation for
innovation, building the world’s first all-welded merchant ship in
1940 and the first super-tanker in 1962. From 1945 to the mid-
1970s Kockums was a major commercial shipbuilder, building
many of the world’s largest vessels with advanced modular con-
struction techniques. However, shipbuilding collapsed with the oil
crisis of 1974, and in 1978 Kockums passed into state ownership,
eventually becoming part of Celsius, a government-owned defence
company.6 Kockums’ submarines were designed for short-range,
shallow water operations. The Västergötland class, then the lat-
est Kockums design, displaced only two-thirds as much as the
Oberons.
Kockums’ bid was headed by Roger Sprimont, an adventurous,

buccaneering former submariner, whose charismatic leadership
and bold decision-making was a major reason for the company’s
success in winning the contract. He had been one of Sweden’s
youngest submarine commanding officers, and was the only
Swede to complete the British Perisher training course, with the
Australian submariner Rod Fayle as a classmate. In 1977 Spri-
mont was navy liaison officer at Kockums, which two years later
made him naval division marketing manager, and in 1982 head of
division, where he was involved in the Indian submarine competi-
tion. When the Australian project began he was initially sceptical
about Sweden’s chances, thinking the British would win automat-
ically, but when he was convinced that Sweden had a chance he
threw himself into the campaign.
Admiral Bill Rourke, chief of navy matériel, developed the
evaluation of the responses. Specialist teams assessed how well
each contender met the requirements in the areas of operational
requirements, technical risks and engineering suitability of the
designs, logistics support, Australian industry involvement, pro-
duction methods, company viability and costs. The teams’ reports
were then used by the Tender Evaluation Board to make an overall
assessment of the proposals.7
Evaluating the designs was a new and complex challenge for
the Australian navy and one that many thought was beyond
its competence. Terry Roach, who was then director of subma-
rine policy and who oversaw the navy’s interests in the project,
remembers Admiral Sandy Woodward, head of the Royal Navy’s
submarine squadron, telling him that: ‘Australia should think
carefully about the consequences of not buying the British subma-
rine. How would you judge them?’ To which Roach responded:
‘We will judge them by the lessons you have taught us.’ This typi-
fied the Australian submarine community’s confidence that exper-
tise gained from their British training, operational experience and
the success of the Oberon weapons update gave them the ability
to choose Australia’s new submarine.
It has often been claimed that many of the principal actors
came to the decision-making process with strong prejudices. In
particular the alleged anti-British and pro-German sentiment of
senior members of the submarine project team was said to have
greatly affected the evaluation.8 Those involved naturally brought

their own experience to the process and argue that their views
were based on their experience and their professional judgments
of the quality of the bid.9 For example, Harry Dalrymple, who
was in charge of naval design and a significant decision maker in
the process, recalls that his initial preference was for IKL/HDW
on engineering grounds – he had visited them and was impressed
by IKL/HDW’s design processes, competence and track record.
Dalrymple considered their experience of building in other coun-
tries was an important point for the project. He supported the
British Type 2400 design as a safeguard against risk and cost.
Other senior officers such as Bill Rourke and Graham White
were also impressed by the German design and manufacturing
processes, and White considered that the Germans’ engineering
was superior to the other contenders. Bill Rourke was not con-
vinced that Kockums could design a large submarine, because he
had seen one of the small Swedish boats being lifted from the
water by a crane.10
Rourke’s evaluation plan was designed to temper such sub-
jective viewpoints, but inevitably the views of senior officers car-
ried great weight and some refinement was needed to balance the
weighting of the various judgments leading to a decision. Oscar
Hughes, who was in charge of naval production at the time, recalls
that at one evaluation meeting Kockums was about to be excluded
because its design had insufficient space for Mark 48 torpedoes
and Harpoon missiles, but it was realised that Kockums’ design
was based on inaccurate information provided by the navy and it
had to be allowed to adjust the design.
Hughes says that this incident led to the adoption of a new
approach, with problems in a proposal being categorised as criti-
cal, important or less important.11 The Tender Evaluation Board
Report followed this procedure meticulously, producing at the end
of each section a matrix combining the proposals and their perfor-
mance against the relevant criteria. Nonetheless, this process did
not necessarily clarify the reasons for decisions in the minds of all
participants, with even some of those who participated in the final
report finding that judgments they had made in their particular
section were not necessarily reflected in the ultimate choice of the
definition study participants.
Each proposal was judged against the relevant criteria and an

assessment was made of the cost and risk to remedy each unsatis-
factory aspect. This approach was inevitable to a degree, because
each bid reflected company design practice and none followed
closely the ship’s characteristics outlined in the tender request.
For instance, the navy had specified freshwater cooling systems,
mostly inside the pressure hull, primarily to reduce the risk of
flooding. Yet most proposals featured external seawater cooling
systems.
Inevitably, as the cost and risk of correcting each deficiency
was considered, proposals the navy was prepared to accept moved
further away from any submarine that already existed. Thus the
requirement that the new submarine had to be based on a boat
soon to be in service with a foreign navy was gradually worked out
of the process. Oscar Hughes, noting the increasing irrelevance of
these conditions, privately concluded that they should be dropped
from the evaluation criteria. To Hughes the ‘in-service’ condition
was asking for an outdated design, as any boat that met it would
date from the 1970s, while the navy was looking for a submarine
for the 1990s and beyond. Significantly, the government was never
officially told that the nature of the new submarine project had
fundamentally changed – but from this time on Australia was
committed to developing and building a new class of submarine,
with all the risks that this entailed.12
The Italian proposal provided little of the data required for
evaluation, failed to consider production in Australia and was
quickly discarded.
The French design based on the Rubis class nuclear submarine
offered an impressive performance in several areas, exceeding the
requirements significantly in range, battery endurance, deep diving
depth and indiscretion rate.13 However, there were some serious
problems with the design. The arrangements for stowing, han-
dling and discharging the weapons were designed around French
equipment and naval practices and were incapable of handling
the Australian navy’s American weapons; the design’s noise per-
formance was little better than the Oberons; and it did not provide
adequate electrical power or space for a combat system of the type
required. Further, the logistics planning to support the vessel was
considered inadequate and it appeared that the French had not
understood the requirement to give detailed plans for building in
Australia.14 These problems were considered so serious that the

French design was deemed to be unsatisfactory.
The German Thyssen TR 1700A also exceeded expectations
in some areas. Slightly enlarged from the Argentinean version, the
design’s battery endurance was excellent and, although no detailed
construction plan was provided, Thyssen claimed that the Aus-
tralian proportion of construction would reach 80 per cent by the
sixth boat. However, the TR 1700A was noisier than some types of
submarine already operating in the Asia-Pacific area and an exten-
sive redesign, involving high cost and risk, would be required to
overcome this problem.15 The board concluded that it looked like
the first design of a company with limited independent research
and development capacity and rated it as unsatisfactory.16
British company Vickers offered two closely related designs:
the Type 2400A, a version of the Upholder class then being devel-
oped for the Royal Navy, and the Upholder itself as the Type
2400B for ‘cost’ – in other words, an alternative should the pro-
curement of an entirely new submarine design prove to be too
expensive. This was useful for comparing the performance of an
existing design with the required ship’s characteristics.
The evaluation found that the standard Upholder had critical
performance deficiencies in endurance, range, indiscretion rate
and deep diving depth. It was designed to patrol the Iceland–
Faeroes Gap in the North Atlantic and had only 60 per cent
of the required range and endurance. The British boat had only
two diesel engines and generator sets, resulting in slow battery
recharging. The Oberons had a similar limitation, and many
involved in the Australian project regarded the Upholder as lit-
tle better than the Oberons. The board concluded that selecting
the Upholder would ‘eliminate the majority of forward operat-
ing areas’ used by the navy and they rated it unsuitable for the
project.17
The Type 2400A was a redesign of the Upholder class stretched
by 10 metres to accommodate a third diesel engine. Both Rod
Fayle and Eoin Asker [later to be the submarine project director
but during this period submarine liaison officer in Britain] saw
the Type 2400A as inefficiently designed – ‘clunky’, in Asker’s
words. Fayle thought that Vickers had used many components
from nuclear submarines in the Type 2400A and that these were
inefficient in a conventional submarine.
The board noted that the 2400A failed to meet the require-
ments for submerged endurance by as much as 30 per cent
because it lacked sufficient battery storage.18 Electrical generat-
ing capacity was inadequate and during snorting both converters
would be required to keep systems functioning while the batteries
recharged.19 An overload would cut power to lighting, commu-
nications, hydraulics, air conditioning and the combat system.
Despite its size, the Type 2400A lacked space to carry the weapon
load the navy wanted.
While considerable redesign would be necessary to accommo-
date the four additional weapons required, the evaluation board
considered that the technology of the Type 2400A was of a high
level and acknowledged the value of continuing Australia’s close
ties to the Royal Navy and Britain’s military research and devel-
opment program. The 2400A was rated overall as a ‘marginal’
proposal.
The Kockums proposal, the Type 471, was also a design for a
large submarine of 2215 tons. It was the only design apart from
the Type 2400A that could fit the large bow sonar that was part
of the Rockwell combat system. With a high volume allocated
to batteries the assessment indicated that the battery endurance
requirement could be exceeded by 75 per cent. It was also capable
of exceeding the deep diving depth by 18 per cent. On the other
hand, at periscope depth the Type 471 could reach only 75 per cent
of the specified speed before the propeller started to cavitate.20
Noting that the design ‘has not undertaken any tank testing’,
the board thought that the cavitation problem could be recti-
fied by such testing, perhaps in conjunction with a new propeller
design.21 A number of other problems were identified, including
the use of seawater cooling systems and unsuitable high-pressure
air distribution.22
It was the ‘novelty’ of the Swedish proposal and Kockums’ lack
of experience with large submarines that most worried the board.
Furthermore, Sweden was not part of NATO and this raised
concerns that the United States might refuse to supply informa-
tion about American weapons and systems. Indeed, the US Navy
had advised Admiral Rourke in May 1984 that it was unlikely
the United States would release technology to Sweden. Kock-
ums’ response was to propose sub-contracting the development
of the weapons handling system and torpedo tubes to the British
company Strachan & Henshaw. Although Harry Dalrymple

argued the Kockums’ boat was unsuitable for further consider-
ation, the majority of the board considered it to be a marginal
proposal.23
The proposal for the Walrus was virtually the same as that
being developed for the Royal Netherlands Navy, but without the
Dutch combat system. Despite its reputation, the Walrus had only
75 per cent of the required battery endurance and its indiscretion
rate at 10 knots was more than 20 per cent below that required.
Submerged speed was inadequate, as the Walrus had only a slightly
larger main motor than the smaller Zwaardvis class.24 The Walrus
had only four torpedo tubes, where six tubes had been specified, so
a redesign was proposed for the definition phase. Air-conditioning
and refrigeration capacities were also well below requirements.
Although the board acknowledged that the Walrus was well-
designed and very manoeuvrable with good stability, it needed
considerable redesign to meet the required ship’s characteristics
and the board concluded this would involve substantial techni-
cal risk and cost. It assessed both the Dutch navy version and
that being offered to Australia and judged both designs to be fair
contenders.
The other German design, the IKL Type 2000, generally met
most of the navy’s expectations. It was considered to be an excep-
tionally quiet submarine, with well-insulated machinery spaces
and substantially exceeding the speed at which the onset of cavita-
tion was expected. The proposal featured an outstanding logistics
support plan, promising 80 per cent availability, a great improve-
ment on that of the Oberons and exceeding the requirement by
around 18 per cent. The board was advised that some of IKL’s per-
formance figures were overly optimistic, and revised downwards
the German’s claims for endurance and range by about 8 per cent
while increasing the claimed indiscretion rate by 6 per cent, so
that the boat no longer met the requirement.25
The board was satisfied that IKL could rectify all the short-
comings it had identified and do so for less than the cost of the
changes it had stipulated for the others. The board was impressed
by the overall quality of the German bid and rated it a very strong
proposal.
Thus the evaluation assessed one proposal as very strong but
of the remainder only one was rated fair and two were marginal.
Even the favoured IKL design failed to meet all of the required
ship’s characteristics. Considerable additional effort would be
required during the definition study to design the submarine that
the navy wanted. The problem confronting the Tender Evaluation
Board was to identify the companies that could best undertake
that task.
The invitation to express interest in supplying the combat
systems for the new submarines attracted five acceptable pro-
posals. These were from the Dutch firm of Hollandse Signaal-
apparaten (Signaal); a German-British consortium of Krupp Atlas
Elektronik and Ferranti Computer Systems; the British company
Plessey; the French company Sintra Alcatel; and a consortium
led by the American Rockwell Corporation, consisting of Singer
Librascope, French sonar manufacturer Thomson CSF and the
partially Australian-owned software company Computer Sciences
of Australia.
While the initial evaluation of the submarine designs left the
final decision up in the air, the choice of combat system seemed to
be far clearer.
There were some important limitations to all the combat sys-
tem proposals. The request was for designs based on a distributed
architecture. Yet there was no widely accepted definition of what
constituted distributed processing, merely a generally accepted set
of characteristics: that particular functions were not dependent on
a single processor, that system databases were replicated around
a network, and that there was automatic backup around the net-
work in the event of a partial failure.26
The requirement also called for the system to be written in
Ada, an untested software language defined by American defence
development guidelines since no functional specifications existed.
Harry Dalrymple recognised that the selection of systems language
was crucial because it would drive the future costs and support
requirements of the combat system, so, after an evaluation of pro-
gramming languages by DSTO, each supplier was asked to provide
prices for using Ada or alternative programming languages.
Faced by conceptual novelty and technological risk, none of
the tenderers used a distributed architecture and two chose not to
adopt Ada. Most adopted close-coupled federated systems, while
Rockwell’s proposal was described as a loose-coupled federated
system. The difference appears to have been that where, for
instance, Signaal’s close-coupled architecture used a serial data bus

connecting seven multifunction control consoles to two separate
computers, the Rockwell system used a higher-capacity fibre optic
data bus connecting two ‘mass memory units’ to the consoles, each
of which had an embedded processor.27 No proposal achieved the
degree of automated functioning that the navy was seeking.
The Sintra Alcatel proposal was quickly eliminated. This sys-
tem consumed an inordinate amount of power and the lack of any
interface for American weapons was a crucial failing.
Plessey’s Pisces 4, based on the combat system being developed
for the latest UK nuclear submarine, was viewed as risky and of
such complexity that it could not be modified easily. The technical
data in the proposal was thought to be inadequate and the bid was
considered marginal.
The Krupp/Ferranti system was judged to have a significant
degree of development risk but an architecture that made adjust-
ments easier, and was therefore considered to be a fair proposal.
Signaal’s Gipsy combat system was an updated version of
that planned for the Walrus class submarines and used Signaal’s
proprietary programming language rather than Ada. The Dutch
company was considered ‘relatively conservative’28 and did not
hesitate to advise Australian authorities of the specifications it
thought to be overly difficult or impractical. Among these was
that all system functions could be performed at each console
and the same function could be reproduced at each console instan-
taneously. Signaal deduced that this attempt to keep console
databases synchronised in real time would create enormous data
overload as the consoles talked to each other rather than processed
information.29
A poor history of developing Australian industry participation
in earlier projects raised some objections to Signaal, but its pro-
posal was judged to be fair.
Rockwell’s ‘Advanced Combat System’ appealed to the board
because of the familiarity of many of its elements. Singer Libra-
scope’s tactical data management and fire control systems were
developments of the fire control system used in the Oberon update
in 1978. The Thompson CSF sonars were the same as being pro-
posed for the Walrus and Type 2400 and, in any case, the board
felt that if the passive flank array failed to perform, the Micropuffs
sonar from the Oberon update could be substituted. Confidence
in the consortium’s ability to integrate the system rested on what

was an oblique, but unmistakable, reference to Andrew Johnson’s
move from the SWSC to Computer Sciences.30 The Rockwell sys-
tem exceeded the specifications in some areas and also had an
unsolicited feature, the ‘knowledge-based expert system’ for clas-
sifying data.
The board noted that the Rockwell proposal was not a fully
distributed system although it came close to meeting the main
objectives of the concept. It thought that the use of Rockwell’s pro-
prietary expanded service-shipboard data multiplex system (data
bus) was complex and noted that the prototype was still in devel-
opment and would only be produced if the consortium were suc-
cessful. The evaluation recognised the risk inherent in the data
bus but devalued its concerns because of Rockwell’s reputation.
With the benefit of hindsight, the board’s summary findings for
the Signaal and Rockwell proposals are ironic. Although accept-
ing that the arrangement of the Signaal Gipsy system would allow
a ‘graceful degradation’ following malfunctions, it concluded that
‘the use of the close coupled federated system architecture is inher-
ently less reliable than the required distributed architecture’.31 On
the other hand, in its judgment, Rockwell
has designed a new system . . . [that] is a logical follow-on
system to the . . . SWUP combat system. In view of the
technical and management strengths of the consortium
members, the technical risk for the design development and
production of the proposed system is assessed as low.32
The board judged Rockwell’s proposal to be strong to very strong.

Before completing its assessment of the combat systems, the
board looked at the systems on the Walrus and the Upholder and
judged both to be inadequate. The purpose of this exercise was
to test the navy’s position that existing combat systems could not
perform better than the upgraded Oberon system. Confirmation of
this position reinforced the navy’s conviction that the intellectual
base for its combat system concept was sound and contributed to
a misplaced presumption that the success of the Oberon upgrade
program could easily be replicated.
The technical evaluation of the proposals for submarines
and combat systems resulted in clear winners: IKL/HDW’s Type
2000 submarine and Rockwell’s ‘Advanced Combat System’. Yet
technical merit was only part of the assessment – the evaluation

teams also looked at cost, support and Australian construction.
The French, German and Swedish submarine designs were sig-
nificantly cheaper than the Dutch and British. The French put in
the lowest bid but the lack of supporting documentation raised
doubts about its veracity. The second lowest bidder was Thyssen,
with IKL/HDW and Kockums’ bids lodged at prices only two and
five per cent greater, respectively, than the French. In contrast,
the Walrus and the Type 2400A were 33 and 46 per cent more
expensive respectively.33
The price differences mostly arose from inefficient Dutch and
British building practices. The labour hours needed to build the
British submarine were six times those for the German subma-
rine. Even on an hourly rate of A$14.90, British workers could
not compete with their German counterparts on A$25 an hour.
The Thatcherite revolution that transformed the British economy
during the 1980s had not yet reached the Vickers shipyards.
Price was not a major issue between the combat systems as the
acceptable systems varied by no more than 13 per cent, at prices
around $500 million.
The Defence Department had allocated $1.546 billion for the
project, yet nothing in the matrix of options met that price: the
favoured combination of the IKL/HDW submarine and the Rock-
well combat system came in at a little under $2 billion. Buying
an option already under development was no more affordable, as
the Upholder and the Walrus were the most expensive proposals.
After some debate it was decided that the IKL/HDW Type 2000
and Kockums’ Type 471 were likely to be substantially cheaper
to operate than the Walrus or the Type 2400A Upholder. Only
the IKL/HDW bid fully met the requirements for logistics sup-
port, although Kockums’ proposals were considered attractive.
Kockums maintained the Swedish Navy’s submarines and, con-
sequently, had considerable data on submarine reliability with
which to reduce support and maintenance costs.
Most of those who saw the project as a catalyst for indus-
trial regeneration believed that only the Germans and Swedes
really understood the project’s industrial requirements, and many
of them favoured Kockums for its modular construction tech-
niques. The evaluation board agreed that Kockums’ approach
would encourage involvement by a wider spectrum of Australian
industry than would its competitors.34 Kockums’ production

methods were judged to be the most modern of the contenders
and it was the only company that used computer-assisted design
and production management technology.
The Dutch bidders, RDM, did not appear to realise that both
the submarine project team and the Australian Labor govern-
ment were fully committed to achieving genuine Australian indus-
try involvement in the project, and its production planning only
allowed for an Australian content of 60 per cent by the end of the
program. They had teamed with Lend Lease, a conglomerate that
controlled Civil & Civic, then Australia’s largest property devel-
oper. This might have given the Dutch a capacity to develop con-
struction facilities, but the resulting consortium would have been
entirely reliant on RDM and its traditional construction methods
in building the submarines.
Similarly, Vickers showed little enthusiasm for involvement
with Australian industry. The tender request looked for proposals
that would cover building the submarines, integrating their sys-
tems, developing industry facilities and providing long-term sup-
port, but Vickers tendered only for submarine design and building
the first vessel in the United Kingdom. It left the Common-
wealth to negotiate separate arrangements for any construction
to be done in Australia. The board was not impressed, fearing
a divided responsibility between designer and builder that gave
the ‘potential for disruption, delay and cost increases of the type
experienced with the patrol craft and [other] projects’.35 It also
‘noted with concern the reluctance of the tenderer to enter into
the preferred contractual arrangement’.36 In any case, the board
assessed that ‘production technology currently used in the UK
is . . . conservative and labour-intensive’.37
The British compounded the perception that they were
opposed to building in Australia by emphasising in their inten-
sive advertising and lobbying efforts the importance of maintain-
ing the Australian navy’s traditional ties with Britain and making
it clear that they were doubtful about the feasibility of building
submarines in Australia.38
By early 1985 the Tender Evaluation Board was ready to
pick the winners. The technically unsatisfactory responses were
excluded. The marginal designs were examined for non-technical
benefit. Being only four per cent more expensive than the
Type 2000, the Kockums bid warranted further consideration.

Having no price advantage, the Vickers bid was rejected.
In separating the Swedish and Dutch bids the board noted that
the cost to rectify deficiencies was much less for the Type 471
than for the Walrus. The board had become accustomed to the
novelty of a Swedish design and changed its attitude. The Wal-
rus ‘offered compliance with a reasonable proportion of the RAN
requirement but had a number of notable deficiencies’.39 In con-
trast, the Swedes ‘offered a high degree of capability relative to
the RAN requirement by providing the required endurance, speed,
depth, manoeuvrability and had only minor shortfalls in most
characteristics’.40
The Walrus remained less risky because it was the closest to
the original requirement of being in service with the parent navy,
but this was offset by Kockums’ superior proposals for Australian
industry involvement. The board had ‘great difficulty in reaching
a common view on the value of these different attributes’, but
ultimately it preferred the superior efficiency of Kockums’ building
processes and the consequent price advantage. The board also
believed that the Kockums proposal ‘would be more conducive to
effective competition with IKL’.41
When the board came to decide between the combat system
proposals, Plessey was quickly excluded. Even though it was the
cheapest acceptable bid, there were doubts about its technical risk
and the basis of its costings. Choosing between the Signaal and
Krupp proposals was more difficult. Both provided similar levels
of performance but the Krupp system was marginally cheaper.
However, the price margin was slight and Dutch navy support
for the predecessor system in the Walrus reduced the technical
risk of the Signaal system. Further, the Dutch were familiar with
American weapons and this tipped the balance in their favour to
compete with Rockwell in the next stage.
Nonetheless, the board had doubts about the competitive
project definition study, for it would demand many resources
that Oscar Hughes and Harry Dalrymple thought might not be
available.42 The board also feared that the time required for the
project definition study would jeopardise the Oberon replacement
schedule.43
Essentially, the IKL/HDW submarine and the Rockwell combat
system were thought best by a ‘substantial margin’.44 However,
recognising the government would consider further development

with only a single submarine designer and systems developer too
risky, a definition study involving the two submarine designers
was proposed as a ‘reasonable compromise between the Com-
monwealth’s interests and its limited resources’.45 This would sub-
ject two-thirds of the project costs to competition. Ultimately, the
board felt that the Rockwell combat system proposal was not only
clearly superior, but it was the only one that was ‘a logical and
evolutionary development of the Oberon combat system’, making
a competitive project definition study unnecessary.46
There was a final twist in the tale in early 1985 before the
winners were announced, as a rearguard struggle took place in
Canberra to push the project off its path. The civilian policy mak-
ers led by Alan Wrigley still argued that the navy had not justified
its proposals, and as late as May 1985 the defence force develop-
ment committee – the last stage at which departmental advice was
considered before being sent to the Minister – recommended that
a price ceiling be placed on the project. The recommendation was
not accepted.
Jim Duncan and other missionaries for the project believed
that the bureaucracy was ‘deliberately delaying consideration of
the project and threatening to take the process beyond the tender
validity date’. This would have meant recalling tenders, thereby
‘giving the increasingly strident Vickers lobby another shot at get-
ting their submarine selected’. Duncan recalls that several major
projects had been delayed by clashes between civilians and uni-
formed personnel on the defence committees and the submarine
project could similarly have been swallowed in the morass of
departmental in-fighting. He saw Kim Beazley’s direct links with
members of the project team like Graham White and Rod Fayle
as being crucial in breaking the deadlock and forcing decisions to
be made.
Eventually, on 9 May 1985, the submarine project went to cabi-
net. The defence civilians still argued against the risks of technical
innovation and Australian construction, while the project team
presented the strategic and operational case for large submarines
and the logistic and industrial arguments for building in Australia.
Crucially, they were supported by the Chief of Naval Staff, Admi-
ral Mike Hudson, and cabinet agreed with his conclusions. The
civilians had lost the argument; there would be no reconsideration
of options and the project would be for six submarines, with an

option for two more. All would be built in Australia. The only
area where cabinet did not agree with the navy’s proposals was
on the evaluation of the combat system: cabinet thought it pru-
dent to have a backup option and ordered the inclusion of two
combat system suppliers in the definition study.
There was no surprise when Rockwell and Signaal were chosen
for the combat system contest, nor with the choice of IKL/HDW
for the submarine contest. The selection of Kockums as the other
submarine contestant was a shock.
CHAPTER 8
Spies, leaks and sackings: from tender
evaluation to project definition study
While the tenders for the submarines came from individual Euro-
pean companies, the contracts for the project definition study
were made with consortia formed by Kockums and HDW with
Australian industry partners.
The joint venture formed by HDW and Eglo Engineering was
not the result of love at first sight. In early 1983 Hans Ohff and
John White of Eglo visited all the major submarine builders in
Europe. Ohff recalls:
We were received with great courtesy by the Dutch, French,

Thyssen and Kockums. The exception was HDW. When we
asked for an appointment – with the recommendation from
the RAN – we did not receive a reply. A second attempt
resulted in ‘an audience’ with Mr Udo Ude (manager
acquisition HDW). The interview lasted a short 30 minutes,
at best. We explained our capabilities in off-shore oil and gas
production platforms, oil refineries, petrochemical plants and
shipbuilding (not submarines), and made Ude aware of the
important role Australian industry would have in this
project. Ude told us that HDW was a submarine builder and
76
SPIES, LEAKS AND SACKINGS 77
would only be interested in the Australian project if at least

two boats and subassemblies (packages) would be built in
Kiel. We left HDW with the impression that the company
was the least desirable partner for Eglo.1
HDW was equally unimpressed by its first encounter with Eglo

and began talking with large Australian engineering companies
such as Transfield and Johns Perry, but found little understand-
ing of what the submarine project would involve. Of the people
they talked with, only John Jeremy of Cockatoo Dockyard ‘knew
what he was talking about, but Cockatoo was no place to build
a submarine’.2 For some time HDW considered the idea of coop-
erating with Don Fry of North Queensland Engineers and Agents
in Cairns, as the most progressive Australian shipbuilder and also
because they were attracted by the conservative government in
Queensland ‘for union reasons and for general ease of doing busi-
ness’. However, after assessing all potential partners, the Germans
decided that Eglo, in fact, stood out above the others for its engi-
neering skills, its commitment to the project and the connections it
already had with Germany through Hans Ohff and Eglo’s German
shareholders.3
Of all the companies they visited, Ohff and White were most
impressed with the Swedes and joined with Kockums in a 50–50
partnership to bid for the submarine project, with the understand-
ing that either partner could leave the arrangement at any time.
However, in early 1985 after some ‘agonising debate’ Eglo can-
celled its arrangement with Kockums and formed a consortium
with the Germans, primarily because they seemed most likely to
win. Ohff recalls that the chairman of HDW, Klaus Ahlers, tele-
phoned him and said, ‘We would like you to join with us. The navy
says you’re the best of the Australian industry participants. We
control 90 per cent of the world’s export markets for submarines.
Together we will win.’ Ohff and White were not convinced of
HDW’s intentions and went to Kiel again to meet with HDW.
Hans Ohff was greatly impressed by HDW’s organisational skills
and method of submarine ‘manufacturing’, with the accuracy of
hull construction being far superior to anything he had seen or
known. The decision to join HDW was, however, swayed by its
associated design company IKL, ‘where Professor Gabler exuded
calmness, confidence and capability, which was underscored
by Dr Ritterhoff in a four-hour dissertation on the company’s

submarine design capabilities’.4
With considerable regret Hans Ohff advised Kockums that
Eglo would work with HDW. Consequently Eglo and HDW
formed a joint venture called Australian Marine Systems to con-
duct the project definition study and, they were confident, to win
the contract to build the submarines.
Once Eglo had committed to the German bid, Kockums was
left floundering without an Australian partner. Roger Sprimont
recalls that the company then spoke with many companies includ-
ing Woodside, Lend Lease, Leightons, Johns Perry, Tubemakers
and BHP Engineering.5 Shortly before the beginning of the project
definition study, Sprimont and Olle Holmdahl went to Australia
to finalise an agreement with Tubemakers and BHP Engineering.
However, they soon decided that the Australian companies were
happy to take a share of the money flowing from the project, but
were unwilling to take any responsibility or risk their own cap-
ital. The negotiations collapsed, leaving Kockums in a position
where they had two days left to put together a consortium. Spri-
mont recalled that Hans Ohff had told him there were only two
companies in Australia that could build submarine hulls – Eglo
Engineering and Chicago Bridge & Iron – so he approached CBI.
Chicago Bridge & Iron was one of the world’s largest engineer-
ing contractors and had been operating in Australia as part of a
joint venture since the mid-1950s, setting up on its own in about
1970. Its Australian business had a similar profile to Eglo Engi-
neering, and like Eglo suffered from the resources downturn in the
early 1980s. CBI’s American parent had been involved in build-
ing hulls for nuclear submarines and thus it became interested in
the Australian submarine project. Ross Milton, an engineer with
CBI from 1971, recalls the company believed that ‘as far as steel
plate structural work went we were . . . better than anyone else in
this country’ and that it also had exceptional project management
skills.6 CBI talked with all the submarine companies in Europe and
decided it would prefer to work with Thyssen, HDW or Kockums.
Milton says that:
The Germans were thorough in the German manner, perhaps

bordering on arrogant (they knew what was best for
Australia) but nevertheless impressive. The Swedes came
across as less worldly in a commercial sense, having never

built a submarine for export. Kockums was actively building
commercial ships, but the submarine division was populated
by ex-Swedish navy submariners who did not have the same
commercial toughness as the Germans. They were the most
open and we always got the impression they were very
straightforward which was refreshing when compared with
some of the other contenders. The Dutch – we thought they
had a terrific design but it seemed to be very expensive and
hard to build.
Once the short-list was announced CBI tried to sell itself to Kock-
ums, which was impressed with the company’s project manage-
ment skills, but worried by its American ownership, feeling that
this would be politically unpalatable with the focus so strongly
on Australian involvement. Kockums knew that the Australian
government would insist on at least 50 per cent Australian own-
ership. Ross Milton recalls that the CBI team was talking with
Roger Sprimont and Olle Holmdahl in the Wentworth Hotel in
Sydney when Sprimont suggested that they should call Geoff Davis
of Wormald International.
Wormald had grown from its origins as a fire protection com-
pany to be one of Australia’s largest diversified conglomerates in
the mid-1980s. By the late 1970s Wormald was trading in more
than 70 countries, with sales of over $1 billion and a workforce
of more than 20 000. Its main businesses after fire protection and
security were electronics and engineering, and it was looking to
develop its defence business.
Geoff Davis, Wormald’s managing director, had a close work-
ing relationship with senior members of the Labor Party and the
trade unions and he received strong hints that the government
would be happy to see Wormald involved in a consortium with
Kockums. He was at the Wentworth Hotel 15 minutes after being
called. He had already discussed with Industry Minister John
Button his view that a viable consortium would consist of
Kockums as designer, CBI as project manager and hull fabricator,
Wormald to manufacture mechanical and defence equipment, and
the Australian Industry Development Corporation as the financial
partner. Davis suggested calling AIDC, which quickly agreed to
join the consortium.
AIDC was a government-owned merchant bank. It was one of

the later examples of the state socialism of the post-war Liberal
governments, founded in 1970 to promote industrial develop-
ment through loans to promising industries. AIDC’s involvement
enabled the Commonwealth to have a director on the board of
the consortium and achieved 50 per cent Australian ownership.
The new company was named the Australian Submarine Cor-
poration on the suggestion of Geoff Davis, who became the first
chairman. The initial shareholdings were Kockums 30 per cent,
CBI 20 per cent, and Wormald and AIDC 25 per cent each, and
the initial paid-up capital was $10 million.
Looking back on the establishment of ASC, Roger Sprimont
recalls that he had gone to Australia to form a consortium with
Tubemakers and BHP Engineering and, when this fell apart,
within two days he had reached an agreement with three different
companies. He says this could not have happened in an ordinary
company, but the problems in Kockums’ Swedish business were so
great that he could get away with all sorts of things. His authority
was far above his rank and ‘perhaps I always have a tendency to go
further than I’m allowed’. The original mandate he had from the
Kockums’ board was to take 10 per cent equity in the consortium,
but ‘this grew’.
During the project negotiations, a senior Swedish government
official was invited to a lunch at Duntroon. When he arrived sev-
eral army officers walked out of the room as a protest against
Sweden’s refusal during the Vietnam War to supply ammunition
for anti-tank rockets it had sold to Australia. Roine Carlsson,
then Swedish Minister for Defence, recalls an Australian member
of parliament who had served in Vietnam reproaching him for
the same reason. Carlsson knew the contract and ‘explained in a
very friendly way that when Australia had bought the Carl Gustav
weapons system it had promised to only use it in Australia and not
overseas’. Sweden never approved its use in Vietnam and under
the contract it had the right to refuse to supply ammunition. How-
ever, this point was never understood in Australia and one of the
most telling arguments against giving the submarine contract to
Kockums was Sweden’s supposed unreliability as a supplier.
The success of Kockums in reaching the project definition
phase of the submarine competition brought this issue sharply
into focus, although it had been discussed between the Australian
and Swedish governments since the earliest days of the project.

Central to these talks was Sweden’s neutrality and the possible
security problems that followed. In 1980 the Australian govern-
ment wrote to the Swedish government in connection with other
defence matériel issues suggesting that there should be a ‘memo-
randum of understanding’ for the future supply of military equip-
ment, as Australia needed a guarantee that Sweden would be a
reliable supplier. The following year Australia suggested that there
should also be an agreement covering the security of classified
information exchanged between the two countries.
In March 1981 Australia asked whether it could rely on
Kockums’ security, to which the Swedish government replied that
Kockums was state-owned and all its personnel were security
cleared. If they continued with negotiations Australia was assured
that classified information would not be passed on. Over the next
two years Australia demanded more and more security arrange-
ments and the Swedes slowly responded, being restricted in what
they could offer by legislation on overseas arms sales.
The election of the Labor government in Australia, and in
particular the visit of the Minister for Defence Support, Brian
Howe, to Sweden in August 1983, opened the way to resolving the
problems between the countries. In November 1983 the Swedish
government agreed that Kockums and the Swedish navy could
forward classified information about the submarine project to the
Australian authorities and that Australia could forward informa-
tion to Canada and New Zealand (which both had liaison officers
with the project office). This meant that formal negotiations were
now possible and enabled Kockums to submit a formal tender in
February 1984 for the delivery of six submarines.
The Swedish government had not yet promised continuity of
deliveries but the parliament passed legislation to make agree-
ments between Swedish defence suppliers and foreign countries
binding unless the United Nations imposed sanctions on that
country. This would be unlikely to affect Australia so the way
for negotiations was opened.
In early 1986 Rear Admiral Barry West, Bill Rourke’s suc-
cessor as chief of navy matériel, and Fred Bennett, the Defence
Department’s chief of capital procurement, visited Sweden, fol-
lowed a few months later by another delegation consisting of Kim
Beazley, Ian MacDougall and Malcolm McIntosh. The Swedish
government raised Kockums’ desire to build the first submarine in

Sweden if it won the contract, but the Australians ruled it out. Carl
Johan Åberg, the Swedish Secretary of State for Foreign Trade,
recalls that the Swedish government was trying to stay out of this
issue but was brought in because Australia wanted it to be part of
the government-to-government agreement.
In March 1987 Åberg visited Australia, followed in April by
Minister for Defence Roine Carlsson. Both held discussions with
Kim Beazley, who interpreted their comments to mean that the
Swedish government was firmly behind Kockums and would sign
an agreement. This led to the establishment of a steering com-
mittee with representatives from both countries and the formal
signing of the agreement in March 1988.7
Like Australian Prime Minister Bob Hawke, Roine Carlsson
came to politics from the trade union movement and they were
on a committee together at the International Labour Organisation
in the 1970s. Carlsson met John Button – ‘a good talking man of
Melbourne’ – in 1984 and they became close friends, while he
spent many hours in Kim Beazley’s kitchen in Perth talking family
history.
A significant feature of the development of the memorandum
of understanding is that difficulties that appeared serious to diplo-
mats and bureaucrats were overcome by direct talks between
politicians. The close relations between many members of the
Labor government in Australia and their Social Democrat counter-
parts in Sweden had a deep influence throughout the early years
of the submarine project. Was it a factor in Kockums’ ultimate
victory? It is not necessary to give credence to rumours of cor-
ruption (for which there is no evidence) to think that defence
bureaucrats might be inclined to favour a result that would please
their political masters. There need be no obvious distortion of
the selection process for a subtle favouritism to be a factor in a
close contest.
In August 1986 a Czech spy was arrested in Sweden, exciting
the Australian press. The spy was alleged to have been seen near
Kockums’ yards in Malmö, although no evidence was found to
support this. Ian Sinclair, the opposition defence spokesman, used
the incident to claim that the Soviet Union would now have full
knowledge of the Australian submarine and its ‘tell-tale noise pro-
file’, putting the effectiveness of the submarines at risk. Even after
the Swedish government denied that there had been any breach
of security at Kockums, Sinclair maintained his concern about
Swedish security.8 For their part, the Swedes believed the story
was built up by the Germans in an attempt to discredit Kockums,
as part of a campaign in Australia.9 However, the political oppo-
sition to the project in Australia was generally pro-British and
wanted to discredit both short-listed companies, as shown by
attention drawn to security lapses of the West German govern-
ment and the allegations that IKL/HDW had used bribery to win
the Indian submarine contest.10
While the ‘Swedish spy’ story had little substance or signifi-
cance, another controversy with even less substance had serious
repercussions. The day before the announcement of the companies
selected for the project definition study, the project team was to
brief the ALP Caucus. This was a formal courtesy largely intended
to assist government back-benchers defend the decision in public
discussions, and had no influence on deciding the winners. The
Caucus was not familiar with the details of the program and asked
the project team to prepare a list of questions that would ensure
the briefing covered its most important aspects. The meeting was
also to be briefed by the submarine design tenderers.
The IKL/HDW team was unsure of the nature of the event and
asked Graham White what matters the politicians were likely to
pursue. White recalls that he told them the project had been so
extensively covered that a search of the newspapers would garner a
good idea of potential questions. The Germans took this seriously
and, combined with Juergen Ritterhoff’s deep knowledge of his
design, answered questions so easily they appeared to have had
advance knowledge of the questions.
Others, however, still maintain that the list of questions pre-
pared for Caucus was passed to the Germans. Whether this was
so or the Germans were exceedingly diligent, the smoothness of
their presentation did not pass unnoticed, especially by Graham
Campbell, the maverick Labor member for Kalgoorlie and a
prominent supporter of the British bid. Campbell later instigated
an Ombudsman’s investigation into whether assistance to the
German team constituted improper dealing in the selection of the
definition study participants.
The German team was oblivious to the commotion. They
always prepared carefully for meetings with the help of Peter
Bowler, an ex-RAN officer, and before the Caucus meeting Rit-

terhoff was warned by Bowler to expect hostile questions from
Campbell. Ritterhoff remembers that most of the questions were
predictable but Campbell was ‘ferocious’. Ritterhoff thought he
was pursuing a genuine, if isolated, view of Australian interests,
although he was startled when Campbell jumped the table and
shouted questions at him while firmly gripping his tie.
Kockums’ representatives had not asked the project office for
assistance in facing the Caucus and were not surprised by most of
the discussion. However, there were some startling questions, not
normally of the sort that would fall within a politician’s knowl-
edge – the Swedes, for instance, were pressed on the company’s
design preference for flat pressure bulkheads when the convention
was to make them dome-shaped. Some suggest that supporters of
the British bid were responsible for feeding technical questions to
willing politicians.11
Later there was a navy inquiry into the Germans’ possession
of the Caucus document. It concluded that the questions had
originated from within the submarine project office. The inci-
dent had only a marginal connection to the selection processes
and was noteworthy mainly for the commotion it generated, but
the inquiry considered that it demonstrated a failure of judgment.
Fred Bennett recommended that Graham White be removed from
the project because he felt White appeared far too close to the
Germans and was concerned that they had better access than was
given to the others. Now that the project was entering the crucial
phase of selecting suppliers, nothing in the conduct of the defini-
tion study should suggest the navy was predisposed to favour any
particular company.12
In the autumn of 1984, during the tender evaluation phase,
Admiral Bill Rourke as chief of navy matériel had changed the
project’s chain of command by having Graham White report to
him through Commodore Oscar Hughes, the director general of
naval production. On 5 August 1985 Hughes took over respon-
sibility for the project as the director general new submarine, a
position he held until after the launch of the first submarine in
1993.
Oscar Hughes features prominently in the gallery of larger
than life characters whose actions shaped the submarine project.
His personal staff officer, Andy Millar, sees similarities with the
legendary Admiral Rickover, whose drive, ruthlessness and con-

summate political skills shaped the American nuclear submarine
force.
Hughes studied engineering at university, was posted to Britain
and then to the Australian fleet air arm in 1962. He was involved
in the formation of 817 squadron, flying Wessex helicopters, and
spent time in the United States looking at new aircraft and in
Britain on the Wessex modernisation program. In 1981 he became
director of the aircraft carrier replacement project. By that time
the new carrier had become a contest between the Americans and
the Spanish, but the navy’s ambitions were driving the cost out of
control. Then the British offered HMS Invincible at a much lower
price than that of a new carrier. The government approved and
Hughes spent time working on the contract and other arrange-
ments, before the Falklands War led Malcolm Fraser to offer the
British the chance to pull out of the deal.
Hughes learnt many lessons from the carrier project: that con-
trol must be taken of costs from the start; that the project team
must be self-sufficient and not rely on others for expertise; and
that changes to the specifications must be avoided. But those who
worked with him on the submarine project are convinced that the
overriding resolve he brought from the carrier project was a deter-
mination not to be involved with another failure. He would knock
down every door in Canberra, shout at mild-mannered Swedish
engineers, or weld submarine hulls with his bare hands to ensure
the project succeeded.
As director general of naval production, Hughes was involved
in the construction of the Fremantle class patrol boats by Aus-
tralia’s most modern and innovative shipbuilder, North Queens-
land Engineers and Agents in Cairns. The first two boats were built
in Britain and Hughes recalls that there were ‘enormous problems
in getting the UK shipbuilder/designer’s attention for the trans-
fer of technology to support the Australian build program’ and
this had an impact on ‘the whole equipment supply and support
chain involving hundreds of subcontractors’. As a result, Hughes
‘decided that we [the navy] would never again undertake or repeat
a similar acquisition strategy’.13
Hughes also saw that the navy’s experience with the construc-
tion of HMAS Tobruk (a British design) and HMAS Success
(a French design) revealed ‘the challenges of transferring
technology to Australia where the overseas designer had little

if any responsibility for achieving such transfer’. Consequently,
Hughes was determined that all six submarines would be built in
Australia.
Initially Hughes’ firm commitment to the submarine project
and the importance of building in Australia was not recognised
by the project team or the wider submarine community. They
feared that, like many in the surface navy, Hughes would be anti-
submarine and that the appointment represented an attempt by
the naval hierarchy to curtail the buccaneering style of Graham
White’s team. White’s removal was seen as revenge for his direct
access to Kim Beazley. There was talk of mass resignations and
several of the original team did leave, but the submarine com-
munity quickly saw that Hughes was an effective advocate for
the project and had his own strain of buccaneering spirit. Hughes
considered that it was an advantage that he was not a submariner,
because he was able to be more objective than the submariners,
who he believed let emotion cloud their judgments.
Andy Millar recalls submariners urging him to keep an eye on
Hughes and not let him undermine the project, but after a year he
was convinced that Hughes was fully committed to the project.
Rod Fayle recalls that Hughes always listened to him and never
once overrode him on operational requirements.
Graham White stayed with the project after Hughes’ appoint-
ment, but the two men were never able to work together and White
was given another post in May 1986. Shortly after, he resigned
from the navy for a job in John Button’s Industry Ministry,
although he returned to the submarine project in 1993 to work
for ASC.
While the evaluation was grinding through Canberra’s bureau-
cracy, the states were engaged in a bitter battle to be chosen as
the location where the submarines would be built. The official
policy of the project team was to be neutral between the states,
and allow the winning consortium to choose the construction site.
Consequently the prospective submarine builders were courted by
state governments espousing the advantages of their state. Ross
Milton recalls that the intensity of the lobbying prompted ASC
to hold a briefing for all the states on ASC’s plans. The lunch-
time briefing was held at the Manly Pacific Hotel in Sydney and
Graeme Ching decided neutrality demanded ASC offer wine from
Chateau Hornsby of Alice Springs rather than from the Hunter or

Barossa. As the slide show drew to a close, he said: ‘I’m now going
to show you where we will build the submarines.’ The state rep-
resentatives stiffened expectantly while the next slide appeared –
a picture of Ayers Rock (Uluru) with a shipyard on top.
The Labor Party came to power in South Australia in Novem-
ber 1982 with the state’s manufacturing sector collapsing and
company headquarters moving east. The new Premier, John
Bannon, saw the submarines as a great engineering and manu-
facturing opportunity and realised the state’s biggest advantage
would be with a greenfields site. Additionally, he promoted the
national opportunities, pointing to benefits flowing to all states
through the use of modern modular construction methods.
The South Australians promoted Port Adelaide to all con-
tenders, but decided that Kockums and HDW were the most likely
to win and concentrated their efforts on those companies. They
also nurtured Eglo Engineering and its construction activities at
Port Adelaide. Thus, by the time of the project definition stud-
ies, South Australia was the preferred site for both submarine
contenders.
However, while the builders had a big influence on the final
decision, politics also played a part. All the states lobbied the
federal government to be given the project and it became the sub-
ject of tense battles within the Labor Party, which was in power
federally and in all the states that were serious contenders. At
one meeting with John Bannon, Prime Minister Bob Hawke said,
‘Everyone wants this submarine. What should I do?’ to which
Bannon replied, ‘Promise it to everyone but give it to us!’14
All the states sent delegations to Canberra to state their claims.
Geoff Rose sat in on their presentations and recalls some of the
highlights:
The Queensland guys . . . said, ‘It’s going to here on the

Brisbane River’ and the chairman said ‘What about the
environmental impact statement? ‘Oh there doesn’t need to
be one.’ ‘Why? It’s on the Brisbane River. It’s just
downstream from Brisbane.’ ‘Oh Mr. Bjelke-Petersen said
there is not one required.’
The Tasmanian guys, they turned up in Canberra in shirt
sleeves on a lovely hot day and I said ‘Gee, you guys are
really on the ball – you’ve actually worked out . . . the

weather . . . and you’ve worn your shirtsleeves. How clever is
that?’ ‘Well, actually no, we locked our coats in the hire car
at the airport and we couldn’t get them out,’ and I thought,
‘Goodness me, they’re going to run a pretty tight project!’
The Victorians with their proposal down in Corio Bay,
that was a very slick thing too and then the team from New
South Wales were even slicker . . . And then there was Jim
Duncan and the young lady who came with him and Jim
Duncan was just so far more professional than all of the rest
of them and he’d thought through so many things.
There was never any chance that a Queensland bid could succeed
with Labor in power federally, and Tasmania and Western Aus-
tralia were seen as lacking the necessary industrial base. Victoria’s
bid never gathered momentum and none of the builders liked its
proposed site north of Geelong. The New South Wales campaign
lacked focus in the early years, with Cockatoo Island, the Newcas-
tle state dockyard and even Jervis Bay fighting to be the preferred
site.
A year before the decision the New South Wales Labor gov-
ernment gave an open chequebook to the Newcastle bid, which
had formidable support from the right-wing of the state ALP. One
senior faction member allegedly told Geoff Davis of ASC: ‘You’ve
got to understand about the ALP right – we make people or
we break them. Do you want to be made or broken?’ However,
the Newcastle bid was not helped by some bizarre campaigning.
Barry Unsworth, who became premier in 1986, argued that the
submarines should be built in Newcastle to scare the Russians. Jim
Duncan retorted that the balance sheet of the hopelessly insolvent
state dockyard would scare them more.
Consequently, the South Australian campaign had sufficient
momentum and economic logic to retain its lead and, in spite of
some last minute scares, both submarine builders and the federal
government supported Adelaide as the preferred site.15
CHAPTER 9
The project definition study 1985–86
Looking back on his lengthy involvement with the new submarine

project, Oscar Hughes reflects:
I think that the Government decisions in late May 1985 that

led into the PDS [project definition studies] were significant
and far reaching. Firstly, the Government accepted (albeit
implicitly) the departure from the earlier strategy of basing
the design of the new submarine on an ‘existing design’ and
secondly, agreed that all submarines would be built in
Australia. In my view these decisions sent a very clear
message to both the German and the Swedish companies as
well as Australian industry that the Navy was utterly serious
in developing a new submarine for the mid-1990s and
beyond. . . . The efforts of Graham White, John White, John
Halfpenny and many others with Australian industry
involvement had really paid off and also importantly it
would not be a ‘build to print’ exercise . . . but one that
offered the prospect of innovation, development, new design,
new technology and the opportunity for Australian industry
to work with overseas companies who were world leaders in
their field. A great deal of the credit goes to Kim Beazley.1
89
With Oscar Hughes in charge of the project office and the con-
sortia in place, the new submarine project entered one of its most
crucial and controversial periods. Most people with a background
understanding of submarine design and development expected
that IKL/HDW would be one of the participants in the project
definition study; the inclusion of Kockums was startling. The
promising but untested German design was not without risks and
prudence might have suggested a more predictable counterbal-
ance. The British and Dutch camps expected their more mature
designs would put them in this role.2
Yet the Swedish Type 471 appeared even riskier than its Ger-
man competitor: it was more than twice as large as any of
Kockums’ previous submarines, the company had no experi-
ence in managing overseas building programs and Sweden’s non-
membership of NATO posed security problems. There was a
widespread feeling that Kockums was chosen as a straw man to
be tried, found inadequate and thus ensure the selection of the
German submarine.3
If the bets were on IKL/HDW to be accepted as the submarine
builder, no odds would have been posted against Rockwell to
provide the combat system. Cabinet insisted on a competition,
but it was clear that Rockwell was the preferred tenderer and
most people thought that Signaal was in the competition simply
to entice a better offer from Rockwell.4
To assist the designers to understand the navy’s expectations,
the project appointed liaison teams to work with each company.
These were made up of submariners, navy and civilian engineers
and naval architects and, on the combat system side, some of the
software engineers from the SWSC who had designed the ambi-
tious combat system requirements. Mick Millington from the cen-
tre went to Signaal in Holland with submariner Rod Fayle from the
project office. Rick Neilson went to the Rockwell headquarters
in Anaheim together with submariner John Dikkenberg who,
because he spoke Dutch, had expected that his posting would
be with Signaal.5
Engineer Greg Stuart and Commander Rick Canham went
to Malmö to work with Kockums, while engineer Peter Bull
and Commander Tony Parkin were sent to Lübeck and Kiel as
the liaison team with IKL/HDW. Greg Stuart had been working
with submarines since 1972 and wondered if going to Sweden
THE PROJECT DEFINITION STUDY 1985–86 91
was a good career move as he thought that Kockums would

not win.
In August 1985 Oscar Hughes issued instructions for the over-
seas liaison teams covering their relationships with the contractors
and foreign navies and communications with the project office in
Canberra. There were several prohibitions: no documents were to
be altered nor any ‘interpretation, explanation or guidance’ pro-
vided that might result in changes to the design, its cost or sched-
ule, or that might constrain the contractors’ initiative or actions
and thus affect the competitive nature of the definition studies.6
The teams were instructed not to communicate with each other,
and information concerning the sensitive issue of the integration
of the submarines and the combat systems was only to be passed
through the office of the project director.
A system of ‘Chinese walls’ was put in place and the partic-
ipants agree that it worked. There were no accusations of the
liaison teams leaking information to competitors during the defi-
nition study and the accounts of the participants show that none
had an accurate idea of the experience of their counterparts. How-
ever, none of the overseas liaison teams, except perhaps the team
in Germany, followed the dispassionate objectivity mandated by
the directive.
At Signaal Mick Millington and Rod Fayle continually pushed
the company to design a system around distributed architecture,
although this was not Signaal’s preferred system architecture. The
Signaal engineers were sceptical, with one of them saying after
a meeting with Millington, ‘That man has no boundaries to his
fantasies’. Signaal’s chief computer engineer would look at the
Australians’ suggestions and agree Signaal could probably do it
but always with ‘there’ll be two problems’ so that addressing the
problems created an exponential problem curve for the project
team.
The Signaal proposal was based on the system designed for the
Taiwanese Sea Dragons, with dual central processors ‘very similar
to what the Rockwell solution ended up being’, says Millington.
Then, about the time of the mid-term review Signaal suddenly
reconsidered. Millington had visited Philips Electronics at Jarfala
in Sweden, which was developing a distributed architecture com-
bat system for the Danish Navy that used the common consoles
and processors sought by the Australians. At a meeting following
his return to Signaal, Millington hammered the table and said:

‘You’ve fundamentally missed the basics about what this combat
system is all about – it’s not dual processors we want, we want
distributed processors.’ He told them they were building a sys-
tem just like everyone else and this would not win the job – they
needed something special to meet the true objectives of the combat
system.
Signaal replaced its chief system design engineer and com-
pletely revised their design. Millington thinks Signaal’s revised
system was brilliant. He has been involved in designing many
combat systems and studied many more and still considers that
Signaal’s proposal for the Australian submarines was ‘the best
combat system architecture I’ve ever seen – it looks simple but it
is bloody awesome’.
The enthusiasm of Millington and Fayle was at odds with the
advice Signaal was receiving from senior sources in Canberra that
it was important to contain costs. If cost was to be a central con-
sideration, the Dutch company could not afford to invest in devel-
oping new approaches.
Similarly, in the United States Neilson and Dikkenberg were
encouraging Rockwell to adopt an adventurous approach to the
combat system’s functional specifications. From Neilson’s point
of view the liaison teams were there to help the company win,
because everything the teams did helped the company propose
something better for Australia.
In Malmö, Greg Stuart insisted that his team avoid getting too
close to Kockums but found that it was a fertile working environ-
ment. The Australians got on well with Swedish naval personnel,
who were open and friendly and pleased to show them design
concepts at work in operational submarines. Roger Sprimont had
deliberately located the Australians on the same floor as Kockums’
design office and, allowing for national security arrangements,
in such close proximity the liaison team and the designers met
constantly and inevitably became close. Tore Svensson, one of
Kockums’ structural designers, saw the relationship as formal
but friendly, with the Australians guiding Kockums through the
requirements while familiarising themselves with the Swedish pro-
posals. Sprimont thought that Kockums gave the Australians more
access to the company’s practice and technology than their com-
patriots received at IKL/HDW.
Greg Stuart recalls that:
The team in Malmö saw their role as ensuring the required

ship’s characteristics were met as closely as possible and to
fully understand the Swedish design philosophy, as my
previous work with the USN (Naval Sea Systems Command)
had highlighted how two designers could produce designs to
the same requirement but actually produce two vessels of
very different capability. I learnt, while working within the
USN, that a specification has to clearly state the conditions
under which a requirement is to be tested as well as stating
the requirement. Without these two being stated together a
requirement becomes very subjective. This later proved true
regarding the Collins’ noise signature.7
The general perception of those involved was that the liaison team
with IKL/HDW was less effective in guiding the designers to meet
the Australian requirements. The liaison team in Germany was
housed in separate buildings from the designers and they never
became close to the IKL and HDW staff. Later, after Australian
Maritime Systems had lost the competition, John White observed
that there seemed to have been bias in the operation of the liaison
teams, with that in Sweden more closely involved than the team at
IKL/HDW. However, for their part, the German members of the
consortium felt that relations with the liaison team assigned to
them were efficient and useful, although they now think perhaps
not as harmonious as in Sweden.8
While the project teams were packing their bags and head-
ing to Europe or America late in 1985, Oscar Hughes and John
Batten at the project office were developing a new management
control system to compare the costs of every element of the
different proposals under study. When in charge of naval pro-
duction, Hughes had concluded that contractual measures for
evaluating shipbuilders’ progress and authorising payment were
unsatisfactory. The system of ‘milestone’ payments used on
projects in the 1970s and early 1980s proved difficult to moni-
tor as it was hard to check that everything necessary had been
done for each milestone. For example, if the milestone was that
the funnels were to be completed, there had to be a way to check
that all the necessary piping and fittings had also been completed,
otherwise the contractor could just put up a funnel and claim

payment.
Hughes combined the American navy system of dividing
the shipbuilding process into thousands of small blocks with a
BHP system of contracts and sub-contracts, to develop the con-
tract monitoring and control system (CMACS). In Hughes’ view
CMACS gave the Commonwealth great control and visibility of
payments; it was used during the project definition study as the
basis for making financial comparisons between the German and
Swedish bids, and again during the construction phase as the basis
for making payments.
It was five months into the definition study before CMACS was
ready, but Hughes mandated that responses should be in the new
format. The contractors had already started cost and schedule
calculations on the basis of the American CS2 system and, not
surprisingly, were reluctant to change. But Hughes insisted and
CMACS was in the first draft of the contract issued in January
1986.9 The companies adopted it grudgingly – Hans Saeger of
HDW thought CMACS ‘a perfect intellectual task but far too
complicated for commercial use’. Nevertheless, during the post-
definition study negotiations, he was able to use CMACS data
to respond quite easily to the Commonwealth’s calls for changed
responses. He did, however, think that it had an inherent fault in
that ‘money flowed regardless of what was achieved’.10 From the
project’s point of view, Oscar Hughes found that ‘CMACS gave
us visibility and control particularly when it came to payments
for work done’, and he noted that ‘ASC embraced CMACS much
more openly and willingly than AMS’.11
In March 1986 the four companies met with the project team
in Canberra to discuss progress and future directions at a ‘prelim-
inary design baseline review’. Rockwell came fully prepared with
company executives and public relations team. They brought a
balsa wood and polystyrene mock-up of both submarine control
rooms equipped with the Rockwell combat system. The Australian
participants were convinced that Rockwell was on the right track.
In contrast, the Signaal team had little impact, with most Aus-
tralians feeling that Ron Dicker played a virtual lone hand.
At the review the Australian submariners were entranced
by Juergen Ritterhoff’s encyclopaedic knowledge of submarine
design, considering Kockums’ approach somewhat stiff and
formal. However, Kockums provided a glimpse of the future when

they programmed a 3-D computer model of the Type 471 that
enabled the viewer to ‘walk’ through the submarine.
It was at this meeting that the German consortium made judg-
ments that effectively determined the result of the competition.
Ritterhoff was in Australia in the 1970s with Krupp Atlas, pro-
viding sonars for the Oberon upgrade, and he knew that the Aus-
tralian navy’s technical experts were deeply attached to British
submarine design. Consequently, he read the ship’s characteris-
tics for the new submarine as a requirement that fitted the British
approach, and was confident that IKL could exceed all criteria.
In his view the requirements represented an average, not overly
ambitious approach. The company’s best-selling Type 209 sub-
marine would not be adequate, but Ritterhoff was confident that
IKL could produce a design fully meeting the Australian require-
ment without having to ‘push the boundaries’ with experimental
ideas.12
At the preliminary design review AMS was anxious to seek
assurances that its design met the navy’s ideas of the ship’s char-
acteristics. If the navy agreed, it would then supplement its offer
with the possible inclusion of air-independent propulsion based
on fuel cell technology and the incorporation of other developing
technology.
However, the principal reason AMS wanted the assurance was
that it intended to freeze the performance levels of the design
at the point it thought the Australian performance expectations
would be met, and concentrate on winning the contract on price.
The submarine project was always aware that a cost blow-out
could kill the project and continually emphasised the importance
of keeping the price down. Rod Fayle had informed companies
they could offer reduced performance if forgoing that last degree
could significantly reduce costs. He knew that German subma-
rine designers were particularly good at identifying such ‘cost
drivers’.13
The Germans left the review convinced that the navy had
encouraged it to produce a ‘submarine as small as possible, consis-
tent with the requirements’.14 The navy, however, was not going
to give up the option of achieving the design best suited to meeting
operational requirements, nor of accepting unexpected technical
excellence.15 Neither would the Commonwealth, at so early a
stage in a competitive project, allow categorical assurances to be

given on the validity of the AMS contention that its proposals met
the ship’s characteristics.16
Oscar Hughes recalls emphasising at the review that he was
looking for the best possible submarine for the money and making
it clear to all the companies that the project team was looking for
maximum performance. If the designers felt they could exceed the
requirement they could ‘auction capability against cost’. Yet he
had the feeling that the Germans were not really listening and
that ‘the Germans thought they had a winner with their escape
sphere and were taken aback when this was ruled out’.17 Hughes
believes that the Germans did not take the Australian requirements
seriously, whereas the Swedes were keen on doing what Australia
wanted and were more flexible in responding.18
The consequence, in Hans Ohff’s view, was that the design
developed by IKL/HDW during the definition study was far too
conservative. It is hard not to conclude that the Germans left the
preliminary design review poorly advised and with an inadequate
knowledge of the Australian purchasing process. Whatever the
reason, after the preliminary design review the two contending
submarines took different paths. The AMS boat became shorter
and lighter while the Kockums design increased in weight, a few
metres in length and from 7.5 to 7.8 metres in diameter.19
The review also marked a turning point for the project team as
many of the original members departed. After four and a half years
as director Graham White was posted off the project. Although
Rod Fayle retained his position supervising operational require-
ments until 1987, he was at this time with the liaison team in
Holland. With other members of the original team leaving, there
was now an extensive change of personnel. On 4 August 1986
Oscar Hughes was promoted to Rear Admiral and his position
renamed submarine project director. Graham White’s replace-
ment, Captain Geoff Rose, an experienced submarine engineer,
took the position of project manager, reporting to Hughes.
Control of price remained a central concern during the project
definition phase. Kim Beazley had an extensive program for buy-
ing military equipment. The government was not prepared to
spend proportionately more on defence, so Beazley refined defence
policy, focusing on the defence of Australia and its closer region,
and ensured this was reflected in the priority given equipment
programs. He was strongly supported by the Labor Party,

although some questioned the place in this strategy of large sub-
marines capable of deploying to the north Pacific. Beazley later
said that a box called ‘deterrence’ had to be attached to the policy
to accommodate the submarines as well as F-111 bombers and the
army’s special forces. But there was always the Australian building
program to keep caucus firmly behind the submarines.
The groundwork for the policy was Paul Dibb’s Review of
Australia’s Defence Capabilities, released in early 1986. Although
Beazley told him the submarine project was the one area he could
not touch, Dibb nonetheless looked at the project’s finances, with
the estimated price now at about $2.6 billion. Dibb noted that the
six proposed new submarines would be the equivalent of nine or
10 Oberons and would allow three separate areas to be patrolled
simultaneously. Since Australia’s submarine fleet was already the
most powerful in the region, the additional capability provided a
margin available for trade-off if project costs increased: ‘Should
there be predictions of a substantial cost escalation in the sub-
marine project due to local construction problems, then options
involving some lesser capabilities could be considered.’20
In the event, the financial situation for military spending wors-
ened drastically. In May 1986 the Treasurer, Paul Keating, made
his famous comment that Australia’s balance of payments situa-
tion was threatening to turn the country into a ‘banana republic’.
Viewed at first as a political gaffe, it was in reality the beginning
of his campaign to force the government to tighten fiscal policy
by reducing expenditure across all portfolios. The result for the
military was that the projected increases for future budgets were
halved, with little real growth for the foreseeable future.
As the definition study drew to a close, Beazley told Oscar
Hughes that he could not get the submarine project through the
cabinet if the price started with a ‘4’. Hughes argued that any
reduction in capability should be the last option, and sought sav-
ings in other areas. For this reason the contingency funding against
future problems was limited to $50 million whereas, on a par with
similar projects, it should have been around 15 to 20 per cent of
the estimated price – about $600 million.
In mid-1986 Hughes visited Anaheim and talked with Rick
Neilson about Rockwell’s work on the combat system. When
Neilson spoke of his efforts to improve the combat system design,
Hughes told him: ‘That’s all very well but I can’t afford any more
money.’21 The directive was authoritative and, for the remainder
of the definition study, Neilson and his colleague John Dikkenberg
told Rockwell to cut costs. They were so persistent that Rockwell
reduced the number of control consoles in its design to reach a bid
price of around $460 million. Nonetheless, Neilson and Dikken-
berg remained impressed by the development of the Rockwell
system and the full-scale control room mock-ups, which allowed
them to see how the system would function.
From August 1985 Neilson’s colleague from SWSC, Andrew
Johnson, was also in Anaheim representing Computer Sciences in
Rockwell’s consortium. Having been one of the leaders in devel-
oping the combat system concept, Johnson had a good idea of
how it was supposed to work. However, he found that Rockwell
knew little about submarine combat systems and that it had
entered the Australian competition to gain an entry into this mar-
ket. That was all too apparent to another consortium member,
Singer Librascope, which owned the expertise and had no desire
to create a competitor. Rockwell also had difficulty working with
Thomson CSF, the French sonar makers, which also feared for
its intellectual property. Well into the project the problem of link-
ing the components together with software written for Rockwell’s
data bus was looking no closer to solution.
Singer Librascope had expected to build and integrate the
system and write the system software but not to reveal source
codes as this would threaten its market position. This undermined
Rockwell’s strategy, so it proposed to Johnson that CSA should
write the software, thus creating a system that Rockwell could
market. CSA had entered the consortium to perform a compara-
tively modest $40 million task of assembling the Australian end
of the project and producing things such as land-based training
systems. Writing all the software would be worth around $100
million and placed CSA at the centre of the system’s development,
but at the cost of reducing or removing access to Singer Libra-
scope’s expertise. Johnson agreed and, he says, ‘within that deci-
sion the Greek tragedy starts’.22
Oscar Hughes also visited Signaal in mid-1986 and Mick
Millington recalls him reinforcing the line of financial discipline,
telling the Dutch company’s executives: ‘If you come in at one dol-
lar over $500 million we’re not going to talk to you any more.’23
Signaal’s financial manager was absent from the meeting and was
unimpressed by the imposition of a cost ceiling. Unlike their coun-
terparts in the US, the liaison team was unable to convince Signaal
to heed the warning and the company continued a single-
minded pursuit of the specifications, designing a system it priced
at $520 million. Then, over lunch with senior defence bureaucrat
Malcolm McIntosh, Signaal’s Canberra representative, Altingh
von Geuzau, learned that Rockwell had reduced the quality and
cost of its bid. The Dutch followed suit, tendering their bid a week
late at a more modest cost of $480 million.24
Having changed its early conservative course, Signaal devel-
oped the combat system of Millington’s aspirations. Further,
Millington had come to respect Signaal’s abilities and had no
doubt that it could deliver the system it promised. ‘With the Dutch
and Germans a handshake is a firm commitment, it is solid stuff,
while my experience with American companies is that the hand-
shake is only the beginning of negotiations for contract amend-
ments.’ However, Signaal’s late change of direction meant that it
was unable to adequately document its new system so that when
the evaluation began it was difficult to match the documentation
with the specifications.
In Sweden, Kockums continued to develop its design appar-
ently uninhibited by costs. Greg Stuart noted that the company
had little commercial sense, as it had only designed for the Swedish
navy in an arrangement that was closely consultative. He found
that Kockums’ approach was very different to any in his experi-
ence, as it was forced to constantly evolve its own designs because
of Sweden’s isolation from NATO. Stuart, who has the reputation
of being an engineering perfectionist, concluded that in subma-
rine building there was ‘the right way, the wrong way and the
Swedish way – the Swedish way is not necessarily wrong, but it is
different’.25
Olle Holmdahl headed the massive design effort by Kockums,
where the company contained its costs within the $10 million
provided by the Commonwealth only by discounting the design-
hour rate. The effort of the 50-strong design team was focused on
the central design issues by allowing them to select the best for-
eign equipment in specialist areas. This was familiar practice for
Kockums but generally unusual in submarine design, where most
builders preferred their own nation’s components. The Swedish
design featured Italian masts and hydraulic systems, British hull

valves, air compressors and torpedo discharge system, the French
Jeumont Schneider electric motor and German Varta batteries.
Having left the preliminary design review convinced the cheap-
est bid compliant with the navy’s requirements would win, the
AMS team saw no benefit in offering more than was outlined in the
ship’s characteristics.26 The German submarine was redesigned to
reduce battery capacity by 10 per cent. Further savings of about
$150 million were found by adopting German weapons-handling
arrangements, with the bow being designed around the new MAK
weapons discharge system.
The Germans were confident that their research into fuel cells
for air-independent propulsion would provide their future subma-
rine designs with superior submerged performance. It is possible,
however, that their enthusiasm for fuel cell propulsion led them to
underestimate the Australian navy’s desire for a large conventional
battery capacity.
The two combat system tenders were submitted in October
1986. The submarine bids were to be submitted on 11 November,
but ASC decided to pre-empt the opposition and lodged its bid
with great fanfare a day earlier. Geoff Davis contributed to the
stunt by having the massive volume of documents delivered in
metal containers by Wormald security vans. The result was that
the Swedish bid received favourable press coverage, while the
German submission the next day was virtually ignored. It was
a little thing but it set the psychological atmosphere for the events
that followed.
CHAPTER 10
Debating the laws of physics: picking
winners 1987
In early 1987 conservative politics in Australia was splintered by

maverick Queensland Premier, Joh Bjelke Petersen, and his bizarre
attempt to enter federal politics. With the opposition in disarray
and a federal election due by the end of the year, there was obvious
temptation for the Labor Party to go to the polls sooner rather
than later. The project team was under great pressure to meet Kim
Beazley’s wish and have a contract signed before the election.
The assessment of the four bids involved over 300 people in
more than 40 specialist teams, with literally tonnes of documents
to be assessed. The documents supplied with the Signaal bid alone
made a pile seven metres high.
By early January 1987 the individual working groups had
concluded their evaluations of the submarine design and these
were consolidated in the report of the submarine evaluation
team. Harry Dalrymple, one of the principal signatories of the
report, found the assessment a challenge. His team had devel-
oped expertise in submarine design principles while supporting
and improving the Oberons, but had no experience of origi-
nal design. BHP Engineering was contracted to provide gen-
eral guidance through to the contracting stage and, somewhat
101
ironically, the British Admiralty Research Establishment and the

Netherlands Ship Model Basin were both approached to provide
modelling research to assess the propulsion performance of the
designs.
The results of the evaluation were startling – the German pro-
posal now barely came up to scratch. Their design, though the
clear winner of the earlier contest, was now rated as only a ‘fair’
response ‘which would seriously jeopardise the ability of this sub-
marine to fulfil the specified mission requirements’. It had ‘an
assessed inability to fulfil major performance requirements with-
out significant redesign’, a condition that ‘borders on a CRITICAL
[sic] deficiency’.1
The German boat was more than three metres shorter than the
Swedish design and displaced 275 tonnes less on the surface. The
evaluation team considered that the smaller pressure hull, with
reduced battery capacity and fuel load, limited its capability. The
Australian evaluators considered the Type 2000 could stay sub-
merged for only two-thirds of the time required, would have a
covert transit range 15 per cent less than asked for, and be able
to stay on station for less than half the specified time. While the
Swedish boat could not quite meet some of the navy’s criteria it
failed only narrowly, being three per cent down on the covert tran-
sit range and seven per cent short of the time required submerged
on batteries. It fully complied with the required patrol length.2
Surprising as they were, these results became controversial
when the way they were calculated became public. To measure
the competing designs against a common baseline, the evaluation
team recalculated much of the data submitted by the two design-
ers. The result of this process was that many of the German figures
were revised downwards, while the Swedish figures were revised
upwards.
The estimated covert transit range of the IKL design was
reduced by about 25 per cent while that for the Kockums design
was increased by five per cent. The long-range and short-range
patrol endurance figures claimed for the German boat were
decreased by around 70 and 55 per cent respectively, while the
Swedish figures were increased by five and 10 per cent respec-
tively. The indiscretion ratio for the German boat in transit was
reduced by 16 per cent, while the Kockums design increased eight
PICKING WINNERS 1987 103
per cent. On patrol, the indiscretion ratio claimed by the Germans

was reduced by 50 per cent, while the Swedes were penalised only
14 per cent. The only area in which the German boat benefited
from the recalculations was that its claimed submerged endurance
at a speed of 21 knots was increased by 33 per cent while that of
the Swedish boat went up some 20 per cent.3
Mark Gairey explained the reasoning of the evaluation team
that led to these results:
Bearing in mind that both companies are designing to meet
the same requirements, you would expect them to come up
with a fairly similar solution, which in many ways they did.
The designs were similar in dimensions . . . yet the
performance they were offering was different. The Germans
were claiming that they were meeting or exceeding everything
we asked for, while the Swedes said, ‘We meet most of the
requirements, but not all of them . . .’ But when you sat
down and looked at the fact that the Swedes had more fuel, a
bigger battery, a bigger engine, a bigger motor, but they said
they were offering less performance, something didn’t make
sense. The laws of physics say that if the bodies you are
pushing through the water are more or less the same then if
you put more power and everything else, you should get
more performance and not less. That made us go away and
do a whole bunch of work to try to understand why. And
basically it boiled down to the assumptions being made by
the designers. Basically the Germans were taking the most
optimistic approach they could, even to the extent of saying
things like, you can’t actually operate the galley and you
can’t do this and you can’t do that, or you’d be using too
much power, while the Swedes assumed normal operating
conditions.4
As Greg Stuart put it: ‘With the German submarine, if the crew
were in bed, the combat system turned off, the lights off, etc then
it could do what it claimed – but it could not do it in a real-
istic operational mode.’ This was because, at speeds less than
seven knots, propulsion demanded only a low drain on the bat-
teries. Other requirements of a submarine’s ‘hotel load’ provided
the main demand for power. A submarine could greatly extend
its range by reducing ‘hotel load’ but it could not function as a

warship. In fact, the designers were following different method-
ologies based on the operational practices of their national navies.
German submariners operated in ultra-quiet state, where only
equipment essential for the safety of the submarine was switched
on. The Swedes, in contrast, assumed all except noisy equipment
operating.
Ultimately the designs had to be judged in relation to the way
the Australian navy operated. The basis of the German calcula-
tions was unacceptable to Australian submariners, who deployed
at great range and stayed submerged for over two months. The
Swedish approach was considered too generous, so the evaluation
team developed criteria representing Australian operational pro-
cedures. These were based on a strict interpretation of the required
ship’s characteristics plus use of the minimum essential support
systems and equipment.5 On this basis the Kockums design per-
formed better in some areas than claimed by the designers, while
significant shortfalls were revealed in the German boat’s perfor-
mance.
While the evaluators were wrestling with the perceived dis-
crepancies of the claimed performance, further discrepancies were
identified in the Germans’ power loadings claims. The evaluation
team concluded that the designers had made a mistake and the
German boat would require 50 per cent more power to snort at
the desired speed.
The Type 2000 needed considerable redesign before it would be
accepted. Although not technically demanding, a redesign would
be expensive and risk delay. The evaluation team calculated that
it would cost around $280 million to bring the German design
to the navy’s standard, thus wiping out the price advantage that
AMS had thought would win the contract.
The German team has always disputed the criticisms made
of its design, and particularly the alteration of its figures. Jürgen
Ritterhoff argues that the Germans’ design philosophy enabled
them to meet the requirements with a smaller but more capable
boat. In his view Kockums responded to the requirements by mak-
ing their submarine larger, but it was no more capable and not as
safe. Ritterhoff is convinced that the capacity of his designs to min-
imise energy consumption was underestimated during the assess-
ment process. The displacement of West German submarines had
been limited by treaty, so superior energy efficiency was vital to

increase their capability, and this has been a continuing discipline
with IKL’s designs.
Hans Saeger, HDW’s representative during the project defini-
tion study, explained that since 1969 HDW
used to contract offered parameters . . . and to prove
contractual fulfilment by performing the related tests with its
own submarine crews before delivery and acceptance and at
its own technical and economic risk . . .
We never contracted more than we offered, and we did
not contract less than offered.
On the critical issue of the alteration of their figures, Saeger argues

that:
Applying a method of ‘assuming’ power efficiency or power
consumptions and/or defining ‘normal/usual/traditional’
operational cycles or ‘one does in our navy’, allows – if not
discussed in depth and based on measurable facts – to vary
any resulting outcome drastically. To achieve agreement in
such discussions requires patience even among understanding
specialists due to the number of parameters involved.6
The Germans do not accept that the Australian evaluation teams

could have assessed the figures adequately in the time available,
and query their technical expertise to do so.
Members of the evaluation team bristle at these accusations,
recalling a period of enormous effort with no leave and regular
weekend and late night work. Further, they claim there was con-
siderable submarine expertise in Australia. Greg Stuart points out
that the navy ‘had heavily invested in skilling people involved
in the submarine force [to be] competent in the RAN’s subma-
rine decisions, which included significant enhancement of the
Oberons and operating Oberons at extreme range and under
extreme conditions’.7
While the predicted performance of the Swedish submarine
design was not quite up to the standard that the navy had desired,
the evaluation found little to dislike. It particularly approved of
the engineering approach to assembling the boats and admired the
rugged durability of the massive seatings on which major pieces
of equipment were mounted. The ship design evaluation team
considered that the Swedish construction methods offered greater

potential for building a quiet submarine. There was little differ-
ence between the claimed noise levels of the two designs but, after
comparisons that involved meetings with the experts from both
companies, the evaluation favoured the Type 471 as being quieter
both when snorting and while submerged.
The Germans had believed that reducing the size of their
design would be an advantage; Juergen Ritterhoff designed his
submarines on the adage that the smaller the boat the more diffi-
cult it was to detect. On the contrary, the evaluation team thought
that the greater displacement of the Type 471 was an advantage.
To them, while the German design loosely met the required ship’s
characteristics, it did not meet the navy’s actual operating needs,
‘principally because the designer failed to acknowledge RAN sub-
marine operating areas, modes and procedures leading to under-
estimation of hotel load and battery capacity’. In contrast, the
team thought that Kockums had not relied simply on the required
characteristics, but developed its design with an understanding of
Australian submarine operations and ‘not a purely commercial
approach because it resulted in a higher unit cost and a weight
limited design’.8
The only aspect of the Kockums design that caused concern
was the proposed Saab ship control and management system,9 one
thing on which Kockums had steadfastly refused to compromise.
Before the original request for tenders the company had dismissed
the idea of an integrated ship control and combat system and dur-
ing the definition study Kockums resisted the Australians’ desire
to perform ship control functions from only two stations, insist-
ing that the emergency surfacing function remain under manual
control. Pelle Stenberg recalls that Peter Briggs’s response was:
‘We’ll take your sub and rip out the ship control system and put
in the one we want.’10 But Kockums refused to go further than it
believed was technologically feasible at the time.11
This is one of the many aspects of the history of the Collins class
on which there is furious disagreement. People from Kockums and
Saab and several Australians working for the submarine project
believe that the SWSC wanted a totally automated submarine with
the combat system and the ship management system being fully
integrated. Peter Hatcher, for example, recalls that:
There had been a very strong push from SWSC before

contract signature to have a single distributed data
processing system for the whole submarine: combat system
and platform system. In other words all ship control would
have been done on the same system as the combat system.
Kockums had rejected that concept. They said it was too
risky. And we were very fortunate they did, otherwise we
would have had a complete disaster on our hands.
Greg Stuart agrees with this assessment, but people from the centre
deny this was their aim, claiming that the combat system was
designed to have links with the ship management system but that
they were always intended to be separate systems.
In essence, the final conclusion of the evaluation of the sub-
marines was that Kockums had designed a warship where the
Germans had designed a product:
The RAN assessment of the HDW/IKL Type 2000

performance illustrates the perception gained by some
members of the Submarine Evaluation Team that the
Type 2000 is a commercial proposal to a price, whereas the
Type 471 is the sort of proposal which would be made to the
parent navy, containing a degree of flexibility for design
development.12
This opinion reflected an appreciation of the Swedish navy’s

professionalism that had developed during the definition stage.
Swedish navy standards were to be written into the contract as
appropriate guides for the development of the new submarine
design.
The evaluation of the combat systems picked up the hec-
tic nature of the attempt to pull the Signaal bid together after
the company’s late change of approach, the report considering
the response ‘disjointed, unnecessarily bulky and in part un-
coordinated’.13 Ron Dicker, Signaal’s submarine program man-
ager and representative in Australia, felt the proposal suffered
because the Dutch company did not present its proposals in ‘Mil-
spec’, the American standard for defining procurement proposals.
The use of words in Milspec is contractually central, but Signaal
did not understand this and was criticised for the looseness of the
terminology in its proposal. Dicker thinks that the liaison team

should have guided Signaal to write its specifications in the appro-
priate language.
Rockwell was familiar with the Milspec system and its pro-
posal consequently looked far more specific, but both were found
largely to have met expectations, despite neither response being
fully developed. Signaal had changed the architecture of its system,
and Rockwell its team structure, well into the definition study. The
assessment concluded that Rockwell’s system was closest to the
specifications. Mick Millington believed that Rockwell had not
developed a truly distributed architecture, describing Rockwell’s
data bus as more of a star arrangement. Furthermore, the system
could guide a maximum of only four torpedoes simultaneously,
not the six that had been specified.
Signaal was also considered to have complied with the spec-
ifications, although the report listed a greater number of short-
comings; the workload for operators in the detection, tracking
and classification of sonar contacts was greater than the navy
expected. But the main problem with the Dutch proposal was not
technological, but rather its imprecise language and the perceived
inadequacy of the proposals for testing the system’s performance.
These were considered sufficiently serious that they would have to
be resolved before Signaal could take part in further contractual
negotiations.
The navy decided it could accept either system, although it had
a preference for Rockwell on performance and price grounds. In
fact, the biggest concern raised by the evaluation was not the qual-
ity of the offerings by the systems houses but that they had not
cooperated closely enough with the submarine designers in prepar-
ing the integration of system and submarine. This was something
of an understatement. Security arrangements had been made to
reassure the Americans that their technology would not be com-
promised by exposure to a company in a non-NATO country.
Kockums was to be given only the information needed for it to
fit the combat system ‘boxes’ into the submarine, but Rockwell
was reluctant to even do this. Signaal, on the other hand, tired of
the inefficiency of the restrictions and worked out informal agree-
ments with both IKL and Kockums to transfer more information
than was strictly required.14
The report concluded with a warning:

The importance of integration should not be disregarded and
it will be necessary for Navy to participate in this area if risk
factors are to be kept manageable and performance
responsibilities are to be defined. It is recommended that this
be recognised in contract development and subsequent
negotiations.15
The navy was satisfied with the technology that the definition
study had delivered. Both combat systems appeared to meet the
navy’s ambitious objectives, were within budget and appeared to
need no major modification. It was only later that members of the
evaluation team reflected that the time available for the definition
study evaluation had been far too short to form an accurate picture
of the likely performance of either.16
With the submarine design, the project had again produced
an unexpected result. Many submariners felt that the evaluation
was flawed and that the German design should have won, but
others involved thought the result unsurprising and the quality
of the two designs as different as chalk and cheese.17 The senior
naval command felt that the outcome was sufficiently unusual to
order a review to see if the required ship’s characteristics were
misleading. Kim Beazley, too, was surprised and a little concerned
as, like most others, he had expected the German bid to win. He
was reassured when told that the Americans had been informed
of the choice of Kockums and had supported it. Significantly, Kim
Beazley recalls being told that: ‘The Americans were surprised at
the Swedish quietening techniques and in some aspects they saw
them as well in advance of their own and they were going to seek
further information on them.’ Further, he says: ‘I have a bit of
a suspicion that they [the Americans] may have played a much
larger role than even I suspected at the time.’18
Surprised though it might be at the results of the evaluation,
the navy now faced a more serious and unexpected problem. The
definition study had failed to produce its central outcome, a set
of firm performance and production details that could easily be
turned into contractual form. The proposals were considered to
be at the preliminary design stage and ‘requiring substantial devel-
opment before a build specification could be prepared’. This was
unavoidable to a degree because the final design depended on other

decisions, such as the choice of the combat system. As things stood,
however, the evaluation report warned that if the government’s
contract deadline of mid-1987 was pursued, a baseline specifica-
tion for either submarine design could not be reached until several
months into the contract.19
The principal concern of the senior naval staff was, therefore,
how to push the project along to a stage where it could gain gov-
ernment approval. If the deadline was to be met, further develop-
ment of the contractors’ proposals and the contract negotiations
would have to proceed in parallel. In mid-January 1987, negoti-
ations began with ASC and AMS to turn the statements of intent
lodged with their final offers into contractually valid definitions
of deliverable outcomes.
The naval staff also had to make some decisions to shape
the future of the project outside of the responsibilities that
would later be given to the consortia. The most important of
these was to develop plans for the integrated logistics support
for the future operations of the submarines. The costs had not
been determined but the acquisition strategy meant that virtually
all documentation, training, support infrastructure, supply and
other elements of integrated logistics support had to be specially
developed.20
The director general of support for the navy was directed to
estimate the cost of integrated logistics support. His report con-
cluded that this would be not less than $700 million plus a 15 per
cent contingency, unless the contract negotiations could remove
some $80 million in what appeared to be excessive contract man-
agement fees. These figures placed further financial pressure on the
project and, as part of the negotiations, the entire cost basis of the
project was reviewed. As a result of this exercise, $90 million of
the logistics support funding was removed before the contract was
signed, to fund other elements such as training. This diversion was
to affect seemingly banal things such as the preparation of main-
tenance manuals, but the quality of manuals became a major issue
when the crews were blamed for many of the problems that later
emerged.
Although ASC and Rockwell were clearly the favoured bid-
ders, the Defence Department wanted to retain competition during
the contract negotiations. This became increasingly difficult from
Christmas 1986 when the identity of the favourites was leaked.

Patrick Walters, then defence correspondent for the Sydney
Morning Herald, told Hans Ohff and John White that the AMS
bid was in trouble. Walters thinks this was the first suggestion to
the consortium that it was not a sure winner. Equally, the open
preference for Rockwell’s combat system was difficult to ignore.
In March 1987 Ron Dicker closed the Signaal office and the com-
pany withdrew from the contest, to the chagrin of Oscar Hughes,
who thereby lost what little leverage there was in negotiations
with the American company.
The Germans also considered leaving but they continued to
negotiate while AMS launched a barrage of public relations, Ger-
man government representations and offers of access to even more
advanced German technology. What really irked IKL/HDW was
the accusation that their design was ‘commercial’, yet the late pro-
posals of new technology simply convinced the navy that it had
been offered a commercial design, like an HDW third world cus-
tomer, rather than a design incorporating the advanced technol-
ogy available to the West German navy. Oscar Hughes tartly noted
that AMS’s final offer in November 1986 claimed its design incor-
porated the latest West German navy standards of noise reduction
but, now that AMS feared these did not match the Swedish pro-
posal, Australia was being offered access to previously withheld
German navy standards of noise reduction!21
This outcome emphasised the navy’s preference for its per-
formance objectives over most other criteria, including price. By
offering the MAK weapons discharge system (partly as a cost-
reduction measure), AMS was seen as not understanding what
the navy really wanted. The evaluation report noted the ‘lack of
understanding of the requirements and a preoccupation with an
essentially commercial approach caused the inclusion of the unsat-
isfactory handling and discharge system’.22
Contract negotiations continued throughout the early months
of 1987. The head of the Commonwealth negotiating team was
Peter Hider, an aeronautical engineer who had negotiated the
acquisition arrangements for the F/A-18 fighter aircraft, Aus-
tralia’s largest defence purchase before the new submarine. His
instructions were that the contract was to be a fixed price,
performance-based commercial contract rather than the tradi-
tional cost-plus contract with fixed specifications. Hider talked
extensively to Harry Dalrymple and understood that the contract

was to set out performance requirements, rather than fix spec-
ifications such as displacement and engine power, as had been
the norm. The difficulty was that the consortia were unwilling to
provide firm guarantees for future performance.
The negotiations were further complicated by disagreements
within the consortia. Sometimes agreements would be reached
in the negotiation only to be retracted the next day after veto
by one or other head office. At one stage the ASC consortium
nearly collapsed as CBI demanded a more authoritative role in its
management structure, and the negotiations had to wait for Roger
Sprimont and Geoff Davis to restore sanity.23
A particularly disruptive factor was the issue of insurance.
Ron McLaren, Hider’s deputy for financial management, found
that the insurance issue raised some new questions for Aus-
tralian government procurement. Traditionally, the Common-
wealth had self-insured, that is, covered from its own revenues
the losses involved in any accident. Now, however, there were
concerns not about the actions of Commonwealth employees
but of contractor negligence. The contractor’s design and perfor-
mance obligations were fundamental in the nature of the contract,
so insurance was important because of its relationship to these
obligations.
The best solution was that the contractor should be liable in
the building yard (‘dry risk’) and the navy in the water (‘wet risk’)
but the division of responsibility was not always so clear. The
Commonwealth did not want insurance to relieve the contractor
of its obligations for design and performance, and problems were
compounded by the contractor having to arrange suitable com-
mercial insurance. Agreement on the scope and levels of insurance
was a complex task, especially as the costs escalated to around
$40 million against an allowance of only $5 million.
The contract negotiations were struggling against inadequate
time and the novel nature of the contract itself. McLaren considers
that Hider did 12 months work in six to get a soundly-constructed
contract concluded by the middle of 1987. As it was, when the
final contract was agreed with ASC, with a directed sub-contract
to Rockwell, several issues were unresolved. The document con-
tained $130 million worth of provisional price packages and the
insurance issue remained a source of contention, extended for the
time being on a month-by-month basis. McLaren considers that

although the contract was thus in a sense incomplete it was not
flawed in concept or design. Peter Hider’s view is that while con-
straints on time became ‘a bit of an anvil against which to forge
agreements’, a greater problems was that: ‘We were dealing with
issues of a kind that had not been confronted before, most notably
(but not only) the insurance issues, and there was no ready source
of expertise or experience to deal with them.’24
Agreement was reached with Kockums on the basic ship’s
characteristics but, whereas Olle Holmdahl and Pelle Stenberg of
Kockums thought these were provisional and to be defined more
closely during detailed design, Greg Stuart and his negotiating
team were later to insist that they stood. For one, Holmdahl and
his Kockums team held that the contract said nothing about the
design’s noise performance above 10 knots.25
Fred Bennett, as the senior departmental officer, was acutely
aware of the need to conclude the contract negotiations. The
Opposition was taking a harder line against the project and this
cast doubt on it continuing after the election. Further, the viabil-
ity of the submarine force would be jeopardised by further delay,
and great costs in financial and management resources had already
been spent to bring the selection to the final stage.
Bennett used the German bid to leverage negotiations even
after the clear preference for Kockums had become apparent. Yet
at the end, with German participation no longer credible, there
were still unresolved issues. The night before finalising the con-
tract, procedures for costing changes to the specifications were still
unresolved and the compromise left the Commonwealth exposed
to cost increases over such changes. The next morning Bennett
had a letter on his desk from the Solicitor-General warning that
the proposed resolution with ASC did not adequately protect the
Commonwealth against cost increases from contract changes and
that the contract should be reconsidered.
Bennett felt he had little alternative but to proceed despite that
advice. He regarded the matter as one to be decided by managerial
judgment rather than legal opinion and intended to manage the
risk by tight control of change proposals.26 His options were either
to end the project in its current form or maintain the compromise
with ASC. Although he felt that Hans Ohff was potentially a better
manager of the construction phase than ASC, Bennett no longer
had the German alternative. He decided that the contract had

to be signed, rather than risk collapse of the project and loss of
submarine capability.27
So Kim Beazley got what he wanted. The award of the contract
to ASC, covering the Kockums submarine and Rockwell com-
bat system, was announced on 18 May and the contracts were
signed in old Parliament House, Canberra, on 3 June 1987. With
a total project cost, incorporating the logistics support measures,
of $3.9 billion, the project just sneaked below the Minister’s price
boundary.
The success of the Swedish bid for the Australian submarine
was so unexpected that it is not surprising there were rumours
that it was achieved through underhand methods, the payment
of ‘commissions’ or even outright bribery. Allegations were whis-
pered that senior Labor ministers and key navy decision-makers
acquired new Saabs, or that the Labor Party was the recipient of
enormous ‘donations’ paid through a Swedish trucking company.
During the research for this book no evidence has been found to
support these rumours. When asked directly, Roger Sprimont said
that:
There is absolutely no way there was any underhand dealing.

The Australian structure is so complex that we would not
know who to bribe. Nothing untoward happened and I do
not think it could be done.
The German design team do not accept that there were legiti-
mate technical grounds for their loss and argue that the decision
was made at a higher level that the Swedish bid should win.
The evaluation was controversial. The transformation of
the German design from clear favourite to failing to meet
many requirements was unexpected and the recalculation of the
designers’ claims caused uproar. Following the decision, Jürgen
Ritterhoff said:
This is an amazing situation. The RAN has ignored tendered

offers from the world’s best submarine designers, and
effectively told the Australian government that the Swede
doesn’t know how good his boat really is, and the German
cannot meet the navy’s requirements. In effect, both designers
are incompetent.28
Hans Saeger and Jürgen Ritterhoff still think ‘it was hard for
the evaluation to make us a loser’. They believe their offer was
superior on every count, although they concede that: ‘Maybe we
were not flexible enough.’ Yet the Australian submarine opera-
tors and engineers believed they were well qualified to analyse
the German design after two decades of sustaining Oberon opera-
tions. Ritterhoff had read the Australian requirement as an exten-
sion of the Oberon design line and pursued a design philosophy
that avoided too radical a departure from that tradition, so the
Australians readily understood his approach.
To Oscar Hughes and the project team, the greater risk of the
Swedish proposal would be partially managed by designing it to
Swedish naval standards, which the Australians considered to be
‘fully professional’. Hughes was confident that the project could
manage the risk and that the more innovative Swedish design
would produce a more effective submarine for the 1990s and
beyond than would the German design ‘in which I had very little
confidence’.29
Hans Ohff believes that the Germans were too conservative
with their design and since the Swedes were agreeing to give
Australia everything it asked for the Germans should have
responded. The late 1980s was an era of risk-taking and he could
sense that the Australians were prepared to take a risk with their
submarine design in an effort to get the best – though he is certain
that they were not aware what an enormous risk the Swedish boat
really was. But Ohff says that message never got through to the
German designers, who remained with their strategy of satisfying
the base requirement and winning on price.
For Kockums, the Australian deal represented the possible sal-
vation of the company, while for HDW it was only one of many
export projects they were pursuing. Consequently the key people
at HDW did not concentrate on Australia and there was a con-
tinuously changing mood on HDW’s board. In contrast, Roger
Sprimont ‘made it his heart project’, and the Swedish marketing
was brilliant.
John Bannon, who was Premier of South Australia and presi-
dent of the Labor Party, always believed the Swedes would win.
He points to the enthusiasm for Swedish industrial methods in
the Labor movement in the 1970s and early 1980s.30 Although
some high-profile Labor leaders such as Paul Keating and Lionel
Bowen supported the German bid, they were in a minority and the
general feeling in the Labor movement was very much in favour
of the Swedes.
Complementing the enthusiasm for Sweden in the Labor move-
ment, many in the submarine community came to support the
Kockums design. The Australian submariners, flushed with the
success of the Oberons’ weapons update and the glamour of their
operations in distant waters, were determined to have the most
advanced submarine they could persuade the government to buy.
They were not looking for a conservative, risk-free design, but
something at the leading edge of technology – not a production-
line Volkswagen but a custom-made Ferrari. All these factors pro-
vided strong if subtle pressure in favour of the Swedish design.
PART 2
THE HONEYMOON
YEARS 1987–92
CHAPTER 11
‘Keen as mustard to do a good job’:
setting to work 1987–89
The contract between the Commonwealth and the Australian Sub-

marine Corporation was signed on 3 June 1987. Several days later
two members of the ASC team, Graeme Ching and Ross Milton,
were at Sydney airport and Milton remembers his companion say-
ing to him while watching the throng of business people: ‘I don’t
know what any of them are doing, but I know it’s not a patch on
what we’ve just done – sign a contract for $2.9 billion.’
Intense negotiations had continued until the night before the
contract was signed, and the ASC team were all exhausted. As Pelle
Stenberg recalls: ‘Everyone was dead beat – but the real work had
to start.’
Their focus had been entirely on winning the contract. While
the project definition study and the evaluation process had estab-
lished much of the framework for beginning the next phase, few
of those involved appreciated the enormity of the project. To some
extent this is not surprising as it was a project without precedent
in Australia – it was the country’s largest military contract and
it aimed to achieve the highest proportion of Australian indus-
try involvement of any major project, while at the same time
having the most multinational flavour, with the prime contractor
119
having joint Swedish, American and Australian ownership and

sub-contractors coming from many countries.
The four shareholders in ASC had greatly differing back-
grounds and corporate cultures and brought diverse skills and
perspectives to the submarine project.
Until 1974 Kockums was primarily a commercial shipbuilder,
but it had been building submarines since 1914 and became the
design authority for Swedish submarines in 1950. During the next
30 years it designed and built five new classes of submarines for
the Swedish navy and had a close relationship with the navy and
the government procurement organisation. Gunnar Öhlund, now
Kockums’ technical director, says that: ‘Kockums was used to a
smooth process with the customer based on trust and a long work-
ing relationship – you agree and shake hands and that is that.’
The problems that inevitably arose in designing and building sub-
marines were resolved by the joint efforts of the three organisa-
tions, which were closely linked by ties of friendship and many
years of working closely together.
Chicago Bridge & Iron (CBI) was one of the world’s lead-
ing engineering contractors, working each year on hundreds of
projects around the world for a wide variety of customers. The
company specialised in lump-sum ‘turnkey’ projects in the oil, gas,
petrochemical and mining industries, and had submarine experi-
ence in fabricating hull sections for American submarines. Ross
Milton, who joined CBI in 1971, saw its ‘modus operandi’ as
‘moving onto construction sites and building up to say 400 peo-
ple, constructing a section of an oil refinery to a schedule and a
cost and then moving out’.
Wormald in the 1980s was one of Australia’s largest diversified
engineering conglomerates, with interests in many areas including
electronics and fibre optics. Its managing director, Geoff Davis,
was well-connected in Australian business and politics and the
company did much to organise the submarine project’s Australian
sub-contractors.
The fourth original partner, the Australian Industries Develop-
ment Corporation, was initially a largely silent partner, concerned
primarily with the financial aspects of the project.
These vastly differing backgrounds made it almost inevitable
that there would be difficulties in setting up a harmonious joint
venture. One interesting reflection from the Swedish side is that
SETTING TO WORK 1987–89 121
they were surprised at the rigid hierarchies of the Australian

and American companies. Roger Sprimont says that he found
Australians to be genuinely friendly and easygoing, but he found
hierarchy more important in the corporate world than it was in
Sweden. Like the other Swedes he was amazed that the first chart
of the management structure of ASC showed what model of com-
pany car each level of management could have.
Despite these differences, there was a good corporate spirit
as people from the four companies worked together with new
recruits to get the project moving. Looking back on the early days
of the project, Ross Milton recalls:
We had a lot of esprit de corps in those days. They were
exciting times. It was the biggest thing that ever happened in
Kockums’ world and they were keen as mustard to do a good
job. We all were. It was easily the biggest project any of us
had experienced.
When the contract was signed, the Australian Submarine Cor-

poration was little more than a name and a letterhead, with no
employees, and operating from offices borrowed from Wormald
in the Sydney suburb of Brookvale. Yet this company was prime
contractor for a multi-billion dollar new submarine project, com-
mitted to building a new submarine design on a site that was little
more than a polluted swamp, using sub-contractors from 10 coun-
tries including many Australian companies that had no previous
experience of military work.
The members of ASC’s board played an active and energetic
role in the early phases of the company’s operations, particularly
until the senior management positions were filled. Geoff Davis
was the chairman and he often smoothed over potential disagree-
ments between Kockums and CBI. Unfortunately for the project
he was forced to resign as chairman in October 1987, following a
change in the ownership of Wormald. He was succeeded by Roger
Sprimont, the leader of the Kockums bid. Sprimont provided ASC
with charismatic and inspiring leadership, although naturally he
did not have the same depth of contacts in Australian business and
politics as Geoff Davis. Sprimont’s departure from the project in
November 1989 when he was appointed to a senior position with
the Swedish Hagglunds group was a major blow for the project.
The early loss of two outstanding leaders had a serious impact on
the project and they were never fully replaced. The later history
of the project would have been very different if one or both had
remained involved.
The schedule for building the submarines was always seen as
being ambitious, and ASC had to plan rapidly to mobilise peo-
ple and resources to get the project moving. Olle Holmdahl of
Kockums recalls that CBI played a crucial role at this stage:
It was very important for ASC to have CBI on board for the
early years. They had submarine expertise . . . they knew steel
construction, and they were experienced project managers.
They knew how to set up projects in new countries. Kockums
did not have the skills, people or experience to do this. So it
was CBI people who did all of the work in setting up the
project.1
CBI, working with Bath Iron Works, a leading American naval

shipbuilder, set up ASC’s planning systems and designed the facil-
ities to match the proposed production techniques and the work
flow. Ross Milton recalls that CBI studied the way Kockums built
submarines and adopted some of their methods, but in many cases
they thought their own methods would be more efficient.
While Kockums appreciated CBI’s ability to get a project
moving quickly, there were some conflicts over the systems they
adopted. Some of the Swedes thought that CBI ‘planned in too
much detail – they were planning way ahead for the delivery of
the smallest item even before they were designed [and] this caused
some confusion later – CBI planned minutely but without suffi-
cient knowledge of submarine systems’.2 Paul-E Pålsson, the pres-
ident of Kockums, felt that ASC should have used the planning
and procurement controls that Kockums was familiar with, and
that the Kockums people with ASC accepted CBI’s methods too
early and too easily. On the other hand, CBI was concerned that
Kockums was not moving quickly enough to keep to the schedule
and not providing information in time to enable ASC and CBI to
meet their contractual obligations.
One of the most urgent tasks for ASC was to assemble the
workforce needed to build the submarines. The core of the new
management was seconded from ASC’s shareholders, with Ray
Hill of CBI becoming the first general manager, and other senior
positions being filled by Jeff Rubython and Roger Mansell of
Wormald, Ross Milton, Jim Berger, Jim Muth and Graeme Ching
of CBI and Bath Ironworks, and John O’Neill and Olle Holmdahl
of Kockums. However, most of these people left the project or
returned to their parent companies when CBI and Wormald were
bought out and the shareholding arrangements in ASC changed.
There was a major recruiting program for staff at all levels.
The first chief executive, Don Williams, began work on 1 January
1988. A civil engineer with a background in railways and a doc-
torate from Imperial College in London, he came to prominence
for his work on rebuilding Melbourne’s West Gate bridge. Before
coming to ASC he was general manager of Australian National
Railways.
Although views on Williams have been coloured by later
events, there is general agreement that he was ‘a great influence
and a good one for the early part of the project’.3 He was intelli-
gent, a good public speaker, politically astute and had many con-
tacts in Canberra. He was somewhat aloof from his staff, but
drove the project forward with enormous energy. Oscar Hughes
saw him as ‘a visionary in the context of doing things for Australia
[who] fought hard to make ASC a success’.
From late 1987 a large number of engineers and other profes-
sionals joined ASC. Martin Edwards had worked for DSTO at
Salisbury, north of Adelaide, for eight years before joining ASC in
January 1988. There were two intakes that month of people who
were to be seconded to Sweden, to work either for Kockums or at
the ASC project office in Malmö. After a brief induction program
about 24 ASC staff were sent off to mid-winter in Sweden. Most
of them were young, with the average age being in the mid-20s.
Edwards worked with the design team at Kockums for more than
two years before returning to Adelaide.
Jack Atkinson had worked for the Department of Defence as
a software engineer for 14 years before joining ASC in 1988. He
came as a senior systems engineer to work on the weapons system
integration. Software quickly came to be seen as one of the main
risk areas of the project and ASC built up a far greater capabil-
ity in the area than originally planned. Ron Dicker, who had led
the Signaal combat system bid, recalls that he was on holiday in
Italy when Roger Sprimont called. He was concerned about the
combat system contract and needed experience and knowledge to
monitor Rockwell and protect Kockums’ interests. Dicker set up
a weapons system department in ASC to manage the weapons sys-

tem sub-contracts and their integration with the combat system
and the integration of the combat system into the submarine, and
to monitor Rockwell’s progress.
As the project advanced ASC began to employ people with
production expertise. Many brought their knowledge of subma-
rine mechanical engineering from the Oberon refitting program at
Cockatoo Island. Among them were Charlie Yandell, who became
production manager, Robert Lemonius, to be submarine manager,
and Alan Saunders.
Another source of expertise was the United Kingdom. The Aus-
tralian project appeared to offer more secure employment than
Britain’s uncertain submarine building program. Doug Callow
had been with Vickers for 26 years and was project manager
for the Trident nuclear ballistic missile submarines when Don
Williams recruited him in 1992. Jock Thornton was an ex-Royal
Navy nuclear submarine engineer, while Charlie Yandell had
been production manager at Scotts of Greenock before going to
Cockatoo Island.
Many engineers came to ASC in the late 1980s immediately
after graduating. Simon Ridgway was employed straight from uni-
versity and spent his first year working in a small group headed
by Göran Christensson from Kockums, developing the program
for outfitting the submarines.
If recruiting professional staff with submarine experience was
difficult, it was even harder to build a skilled workforce. Although
manufacturing industries around Adelaide had been particularly
hard hit by Australia’s worst recession since the 1930s and many
were attracted by the security of a large military program, the
skills required were distinctly higher than in most other areas.
Robert Lemonius recalls: ‘We’d take a very good high pressure
vessel welder who’d worked on pipelines and engineering projects
and things like that and in some cases spend anywhere between
eight and 12 weeks on developing those skills before they would
be allowed to actually undertake production welding.’ ASC gave
a great deal of attention to training its workers, bringing them
up to the required standard and teaching them new processes and
procedures.
One of the most urgent tasks for ASC was to let hundreds of
sub-contracts. Contractually, at least 70 per cent of the cost of the
submarines had to be spent in Australia. This meant either that

foreign sub-contractors had to establish subsidiaries in Australia
or that the sub-contracts had to be given to Australian compa-
nies. Contracts manager Roger Mansell succeeded in negotiating
the required Australian content even though ‘the major overseas
suppliers were keen to retain as much work as possible for their
own people, and they were reluctant to share commercial infor-
mation with potential rivals’.4
Tore Svensson of Kockums recalls that he visited a number of
companies in Australia with no experience in defence that had
built their expertise from scratch and developed good products.
Sometimes it was decided that work could not be done in Australia
and had to be done in Europe, especially for the first submarine,
but Kockums and ASC assisted many local companies to raise
their quality standards, to their long-term benefit.5
ASC shareholders, with the exception of AIDC, all took on
major sub-contracts. Kockums had contracts to design the sub-
marines and to build two hull sections and two interior deck
assemblies for the first submarine. CBI was to fabricate the plate,
frames and bulkheads, and Wormald was contracted to design
and project manage the new yard at Osborne and provide the
submarines’ fire-fighting system, and had several major contracts
related to the ship control system. Geoff Davis of Wormald notes
that ‘the shareholder agreement allowed that each shareholder
who undertook work . . . was entitled to a minimum margin of
10 per cent’. For Wormald the opportunity was available to secure
contracts worth over $600 million, but many of these were not
followed up after Geoff Davis’s resignation.
The largest sub-contract was with Rockwell for the combat sys-
tem. This was far from a normal sub-contract and the relationship
between ASC and Rockwell was never a normal contractor/sub-
contractor relationship. The combat system contract and the sub-
marine contract had been negotiated parallel to but completely
separate of each other. Security arrangements prevented ASC from
viewing the combat system specifications, so it had to approve the
sub-contract and establish the submarine–combat system interface
document with Rockwell sight unseen. After three months nego-
tiations ASC reluctantly accepted the sub-contract. Ron Dicker
says: ‘Rockwell had of course no incentive to change even a
comma in the contract they had negotiated between themselves
and the Commonwealth’ so the ‘process resulted in a “special”

relationship between Rockwell and the Commonwealth to the
detriment of ASC’s ability to pro-actively manage the combat sys-
tem contract’.
Most of the other major sub-contracts had been foreshad-
owed in the project definition study phase: diesel engines from
Hedemora, weapons discharge system from Strachan & Henshaw,
propulsion motors and generators from Jeumont-Schneider, ship
management systems from Saab Instruments, and masts from Riva
Calzoni. All these firms had further large sub-contracts with Aus-
tralian companies.
The decision to award the contract for diesel engines to
Hedemora was later strongly criticised, and even at the time
it was the subject of debate. The two contenders for the con-
tract were Hedemora of Sweden, a small private company, and
MTU [Motoren- und Turbinen-Union Friedrichshafen GmbH] of
Germany, now part of the Tognum group. Kockums’ design stud-
ies showed that the submarine could be considerably shorter with
Hedemora engines. The required power could be delivered by
three Hedemoras arranged abreast, but would need two banks
of two MTU engines. Greg Stuart was convinced that there were
technical advantages in the Hedemora engine. He recalls that:
I had extensive discussions with MTU’s chief designer, Herr
Dr Jost, who acknowledged that MTU was behind
Hedemora and at that time could not offer a low risk
turbocharged submarine diesel to meet the RAN’s depth and
sea state requirements . . . Hedemora on the other hand was
able to demonstrate, from memory, a 12-cylinder version of
the Collins diesel under simulated variable snort conditions
based on the RAN supplied sea state profile. The diesel
operated without a problem for the trial duration.6
The situation became complicated in 1987 when the Swedish navy

switched from Hedemoras to MTU engines for the new Gotland
class. Consequently, the Swedish navy was no longer involved
in the improvement of Hedemora engines. Roine Carlsson,
the Swedish Minister for Defence at the time, recalls telling
Oscar Hughes that the next generation of Swedish submarines
would have German diesels, but the Australian project stayed with
Hedemora for the design advantages and to avoid delays.7
The $60 million contract for the submarines’ batteries illus-

trates both the international nature of the project and the depth of
Australian industry involvement. During project definition it was
widely assumed that the Swedish company Tudor would provide
the batteries, but the tender was won by Pacific Marine Batter-
ies, a partnership between Varta Batteries of Germany and Pacific
Dunlop Batteries of Australia. Ove Gustafsson was the technical
director of the Scandinavian branch of Varta, which built subma-
rine batteries for the Swedish navy, and helped put together a bid
to provide the Australian batteries. Varta won the contract and
Gustafsson went to Australia to set up the joint venture company
Pacific Marine Batteries with Pacific Dunlop. He couldn’t find a
manager and was eventually told: ‘You’ve caused the problem so
you’ll have to fix it.’ He moved to Australia in 1990 to establish
the business.
Originally, the batteries were to be built in Sydney, where
Pacific Dunlop assembled the Oberon batteries. However,
Gustafsson believed that it would be better to build a new fac-
tory close to ASC in Adelaide, largely to save on the transport
costs of each 400-tonne battery. The South Australian government
assisted by giving land for the factory and clearing away polluted
soil. The challenge of starting a manufacturing business ensured
‘a couple of very tough years – the learning curve was nearly ver-
tical’ – but the company provided six batteries to ASC, and now
has a long-term contract to provide replacement batteries.8
Below the major contractors were 426 sub-contractors and
many more sub-sub-contracts. Of the sub-contractors, 306 were
companies operating in Australia (including both Australian com-
panies and Australian subsidiaries of foreign companies), with the
remaining 120 companies coming from Sweden, Germany, France,
Britain, the United States, Canada, Italy, Holland, Belgium,
Norway and Denmark.9 Almost half of these contracts (56) were
with British companies, with 21 American, 15 Swedish and 17
German companies also involved.
The ASC site on the banks of the Port River at Osborne was
always referred to as a ‘greenfields site’, but this conveys a very dif-
ferent image from the reality of the desolate, polluted swamp seen
by the notables who came to watch Prime Minister Bob Hawke
drive the first peg on 29 June 1987. Jeff Rubython from Wormald
moved quickly in planning the new yard. The essential feature
of the design was that it was not a traditional shipyard – ships

were not constructed as a single entity but assembled from mod-
ules brought from elsewhere. Parts and equipment were manufac-
tured in every state of Australia and in many countries around the
world, and brought to Osborne at the appropriate time to install
in a submarine.
Concrete Constructions Pty Ltd was the construction manager
for building the shipyard and employed up to 400 men on the site.
Significantly, the greatest problems came from wind, sand and the
unstable soil rather than from labour unrest. Oscar Hughes recalls
that the promise to keep the unions under control had been one of
the main attractions of the South Australian bid. In the early days
of building the yard a strike occurred over a demarcation dispute.
Hughes was in Beazley’s office and had him ring Ralph Willis,
the Minister for Industrial Relations. The message was that if the
strike was not over within 24 hours construction would move to
Western Australia. Almost immediately John Bannon rang and
asked if Hughes was serious. Hughes said he was and within
24 hours the whole issue was dead. For Hughes, the $20 million
already spent was nothing compared with the hundreds of mil-
lions it could have cost to continue the project with poor industrial
relations.
On 22 December 1987 ASC reached an agreement with three
key unions on a national agreement covering the submarine
project. Among other things this limited the number of unions
on the Osborne site, greatly reducing the likelihood of demarca-
tion disputes. Industrial harmony was one of the main reasons
why the facilities at Osborne were completed on time and under
budget. Karl Bertil Stein recalls that Kockums was surprised by
this, as: ‘We had heard that nothing was done on time in Australia
because of the construction workers. We were delighted that there
were so many fewer days lost on strikes at Adelaide than we
expected.’10
All through the process of getting the project up and running,
Oscar Hughes was always involved – bullying, cajoling, com-
manding and persuading. His view was that ‘if you don’t behave
like a bulldozer then the project is going to get into trouble’. As
the industrial relations episode showed, anywhere there was an
obstacle that threatened to hold up the project, there would be
Oscar Hughes with his bulldozer. One of his project staff, Ken
Grieg, recalls that: ‘He was not the easiest person to work with,
but I guess he wasn’t trying to be easy.’
The Swedes, both at Kockums and in the Ministry of Defence,
respected and admired Oscar Hughes. Major General Kurt Blixt,
who chaired the committee supervising the memorandum of
understanding between the Swedish and Australian governments,
says: ‘We had no problems getting on with Oscar Hughes – he
had a role to take the project forward. He was rather hard when
it came to discussions but he was always fair.’ Similarly Tomy
Hjorth, managing director of Kockums and chairman of ASC from
1990 to 2000, thought Hughes an excellent project director: ‘He
made many decisions at a time when decisions were needed on a
continuous basis; he made deals, most of which were reasonable.’
However, Hjorth also observed that: ‘Oscar Hughes was running
the project outside the rest of the navy. This was necessary but it
created enemies for the project.’
Others shared this view that the project had become dissoci-
ated from the navy. Paddy Hodgman, who was the navy’s public
information officer from 1990–93, observed that:
In the late 1980s there was a substantially independent and
powerful submarine project. They still saw the chief of the
navy as being in charge but there were centrifugal forces and
divergences of view and approach between the project and
stakeholders such as the submarine community, the rest of
the navy and others in defence and government. This meant
that ASC was always able to find folk to play off against each
other. Defence did not have it in one sock – it did not have
unity in what it wanted, what was wrong, what the fix might
be – effectively defence had disempowered itself.11
The consequences of this were not evident at the time, but became
clear when the submarine project ran into strife later in the 1990s.
Generally, the feeling around the project – at ASC, Kockums and
the project office – was that the project’s early stages had been
well managed and that all was going well.
CHAPTER 12
Designing the Collins class1
Sweden is a country with few tall buildings. There are none in

central Stockholm and few in other cities. Malmö in the south
is a slight exception to the general pattern. Today the main fea-
ture of the skyline is the new 54-storey ‘Turning Torso’ building,
built on the old shipyard, but for the previous 25 years the city
was dominated by the huge gantry crane and the 11-storey head-
quarters of its largest employer, Kockums. It was in this solid,
cylindrical building overlooking the increasingly derelict shipyard
that Australia’s new submarine was designed.
Traditionally Sweden’s submarine force was made up of several
classes, with each class being an evolution from the previous class
rather than a completely new design. Kockums’ designers did not
sit down with a blank sheet of paper, but rather had an evolving
submarine design that they were always testing and modifying.
The process of designing the new Australian submarine began
even before the navy’s operational requirements were released.
Olle Holmdahl, Kockums’ head of systems engineering in the
late 1970s, recalls that when Kockums’ designers first heard of
a possible submarine project in Australia they pooled their expe-
rience and knowledge of Australia’s Oberon operations, and then
130
DESIGNING THE COLLINS CLASS 131
put together a design to meet the anticipated requirement. The

emphasis was on long range and endurance, with the battery size
paramount. Roger Sprimont and Olle Holmdahl discussed this
conceptual design with an Australian navy team led by Bill Rourke
as early as December 1981.
The conceptual design became a more detailed proposal dur-
ing 1983 in response to the Australian request for tenders. From
the start the primary aim of Kockums’ designers was to meet the
Australian requirements and avoid presenting a generic design
with the message ‘This is what you want’. The shape of the Aus-
tralian submarine was based on the Västergotland, which entered
Swedish naval service in 1986, but was enlarged and redesigned
to meet Australian range and endurance requirements.
Once Kockums was selected for the project development phase
in May 1985 a far more detailed process began. A core design team
headed by Olle Holmdahl worked exclusively on the Australian
project, with many more involved when their particular exper-
tise was needed. The Kockums designers worked closely with the
Australian navy team at Malmö, taking their guidance and occa-
sionally arguing for the revision of some specification, either to
reduce risk or improve results.
One area where Kockums disagreed with the navy team was
over the proposed requirement for automation, seen by Kock-
ums as excessive and potentially dangerous. Frequently struggling
to crew submarines, the Australian navy sought to automate as
many functions as possible to reduce crew numbers in the new
submarines. The initial requirement proposed an automatic sur-
facing system autonomously blowing the tanks and surfacing if
a hatch or valve was not closed. The Kockums designers argued
that this could be extremely dangerous if the submarine popped
up like a cork without knowing what was above. The requirement
was modified.
The use of flexible hoses was another element that the Aus-
tralian navy opposed, but these were central to the Kockums
design philosophy. Modular construction allowed Kockums to
place all machinery on rigid, heavy platforms that were then slid
into the hull as completed units and mounted on rubber isolating
blocks. This resulted in less machinery noise being transmitted into
the water through the hull and reduced the chances of damage to
the machinery from explosive shock. The benefits of isolating the
submarines’ mechanical components would have been compro-

mised if machinery was then connected to the hull by rigid pipes,
so flexible hoses were used.
Conventional submarines have diesel engines to charge their
batteries. Needing air to operate, they can only run when the
submarine is surfaced or close enough to the surface to draw air
through a raised pipe in an operation known as ‘snorting’. On or
near the surface and running hot and noisy engines, submarines
are at their most vulnerable while charging their batteries. Conse-
quently, the diesels need to be powerful to recharge the batteries
as quickly as possible, and when snorting are subjected to extraor-
dinary stresses, as when the air supply is suddenly cut by waves
washing over the snort tube – salt water and diesel engines are nat-
ural enemies. Submarine diesels are far more complex and operate
under far more difficult conditions than any other diesel engines.
During his navy service, Roger Sprimont had seen turbo-
charged diesels aboard a Soviet Foxtrot submarine. Such systems
use a turbine driven by engine exhaust gases to pre-compress air
entering a cylinder and increase power output. They are more
efficient than the mechanical superchargers that have been used
in most designs and Sprimont thought they would provide the
performance sought by the Australians. He approached MTU,
one of the largest builders of diesels in the world, but they
would not adapt their design to use a turbo-charger. Designing a
turbo-charged diesel to operate while snorting is difficult – engine
operating pressure varies through the troughs and crests of the
waves and varying exhaust back-pressure applies stresses through
the turbine. Kockums went back to Hedemora, the company
that had supplied reliable diesel engines for most of the Swedish
submarines.
In any case, the Hedemora engine had some advantages. It
was rugged and able to operate with some components disabled,
and the crankshaft could be removed horizontally without hav-
ing to cut open the submarine. The company was also expe-
rienced in turbo-charged engines. Importantly, the Hedemoras
could be built in a country like Australia with no established
diesel engine manufacture, and this would help achieve a 70 per
cent Australian industrial content. However, the engine for the
Australian boat was bigger, with more cylinders, than any subma-
rine engine Hedemora had built previously; it had an additional
starter motor added for operational safety reasons and, following
a design review, had the flywheel removed to save weight and

improve connection to the generator unit.
The large amount of fuel oil needed meant that the designers
‘had to look for tank space everywhere’.2 Consequently the fuel
supply system was complex, with 15 separate tanks each able to
supply the engines either separately or through the complete sys-
tem. Pelle Stenberg comments that this made it necessary to follow
strict sequences in emptying the tanks to keep the boat in trim.
The detailed requirement for the new submarines included
many specifications that were based closely on the Oberons,
extending features that had worked well. Kockums thought this
left too many things based on what, by the late 1980s, was a very
old design. They proposed alternative solutions based on the latest
Swedish submarines, such as a trimming system based on that of
the Västergötland. Such differences were generally resolved ami-
cably and both parties felt that the design improved as a result.
A major concern during the design phase was ensuring that
the components to be supplied by the major sub-contractors met
the Australian requirements and were compatible with the overall
design. The need for close liaison between designers and suppliers
is illustrated by the design of the periscope masts. The original
requirements specified that these should be faired to minimise their
wake, but somehow this requirement was lost along the way. Ian
Hill, who was a member of the Australian navy team at Malmö,
thinks that this was due to excessive confidence on the part of the
periscope company that their design would not need modifications
to suit the Collins’ ambitious requirements. Consequently they
had not studied the benefits of streamlining the periscope mast.
The fundamentals of the design were settled before the contract
between ASC and the Commonwealth was signed. Nonetheless,
the design task facing Kockums after June 1987 was daunting.
Gunnar Öhlund recalls that:
The design of Collins was a huge challenge. It is a big
submarine and Kockums had not designed such a big
submarine before – but neither had anyone else. Size in itself
was not the difficulty, but as a submarine gets bigger there
are more systems and more complexity, which means more
specs, more drawings, and more work.
Further, almost all of the equipment that went into the submarines
was specific to purpose and very little ‘off-the-shelf’ equipment
was used.3 Kockums, even where it did not design the equipment
itself, was responsible for supervising the sub-contractor and for
integration. The company had 25 000 drawings to do, as well as
drawing up parts lists and preparing the procedures for production
and testing.
Kockums’ partners in ASC felt that the biggest risk of the
project was the design process, and feared that this might be
beyond Kockums. Although Kockums’ risk management evalu-
ation convinced the partners that the potential problems could be
successfully overcome, most people involved believe that Kock-
ums underestimated the size of the design task. Mark Gairey, a
naval architect with the Australian navy team in Malmö, says that:
Kockums didn’t think the design effort would be more than

20 per cent more than on the Swedish submarines, but it
turned out to be about double. While doing Collins they were
building one class of Swedish submarines and in detailed
design of the next one and doing detailed research for the one
after that. And while they were doing this they were finding
our project took more work than they expected. To do the
work on Collins as well took more resources than they had
and they are not the sort of resources you can just go out and
buy. They robbed Peter to pay Paul to fix the crises as they
emerged.
While those at Kockums would think this is an overstatement,

members of their design team agreed that the design process took
longer than they expected, largely because they were dealing with
a new customer and they had to get used to responding to new
questions and more formal ways of working. An additional com-
plication was the need to rely on others. Gunnar Öhlund pointed
out that:
ASC was responsible for procurement and Kockums relied

on information from suppliers to be delivered on time and of
high quality. Kockums was slowed by others being slow – the
structure of the organisation might not have been the best.
Vendor furnished information was a real challenge. Kockums
should have been stronger explaining to ASC the need to
deliver information in a timely manner and this led to
problems settling details for the design.
About 18 Australian engineers and designers joined ASC and were

sent to work with Kockums in Malmö. The intention was that
they would work closely with the Kockums design team to learn
skills and to equip them for management roles during the con-
struction phase. Martin Edwards was one of this group, and he
recalls that the Kockums people were obviously fairly cautious to
begin with and would allocate one or two very small or simple
design tasks or engineering activities. They would delegate more
responsibility after the Australians had demonstrated knowledge
and ability. His impression was that after about four to six
months a number of ASC people were taking on more significant
roles within the design activity but being mentored by Kockums
designers:
I worked on designing aft control surface arrangements,

integration of the masts, garbage ejector and compactors,
main propulsion motor installation, some of the more
significant mechanical tasks, their integration into the
submarine.
Edwards found that in designing Collins, Kockums used the prin-

ciples from the Västergötland and other earlier Swedish sub-
marines, but most of the detailed design was completely new,
partly because of the great difference in size and partly because
much of the equipment specified or chosen for Collins was new.
So, while the hull outline was virtually indistinguishable from the
Västergötland and elements of previous designs could be used for
mounting equipment and so on, most of the detailed design work
had to be done from scratch. For example, ‘the masts were com-
pletely new to the Swedes and it [was] an Italian design that was
used, so they had to be designed and integrated from first prin-
ciples’. The Swedes aimed to build on previous work but it was
often found that only minor details could be used.
As well as the ASC engineers and designers working with Kock-
ums, there was also a navy team of about 20 people, headed by
Captain Rick Canham, based in Malmö to supervise the design
work, clarify the navy’s requirements and report back to the
project office in Canberra. Mark Gairey was given the title of
‘senior technical representative, Europe’ and recalls that the team
was ‘on the ground in Sweden before ASC’. He felt that Kockums
had a pretty good idea what they had to do. They’d been
designing and building submarines for 70 odd years.
However, one of the problems we encountered was that they
kept looking at things in a Swedish frame of reference. There
were some interesting and prolonged discussions which
ended up with us saying: ‘That’s fine but we simply can’t live
with that solution in an open ocean environment. It’s all very
fine for you guys where, if it goes wrong, you’re sitting in a
little puddle of water and can fix it, but we can’t.’ We had
several discussions of that type on and off because ultimately
we had a specification but there were still gaps in it.
When the navy team and Kockums could not agree on an issue,
they would report back to the project office in Canberra outlining
the problem and saying what they thought should be done. It then
became a contractual matter back in Australia between the project
office and ASC.
To help ASC achieve 70 per cent Australian content Kock-
ums set up a design office in Adelaide. This office was manned
by Swedes and Australians, with most of the Australians who had
been working in Malmö returning to Adelaide by 1990 or 1991. At
its peak this office had about 40 Australian and 20 Swedish staff,
headed first by Jan Hansson and later by Martin Edwards. The
fact that an Australian took over from a Swede was in itself one of
many vindications of the project’s aspiration to develop Australian
skills. As design manager at ASC Edwards was responsible for all
the detailed design groups and some of the engineering support.
The design groups covered hull design, mechanical design, out-
fitting design, weapons handling, electrical design and electrical
installation, focusing on finalising the detailed design components
and supporting production.
With design work proceeding on opposite sides of the world,
communication between the design offices was vital. There were
many issues that required discussion and debate between Adelaide
and Malmö and, with e-mail only coming into common use about
halfway through the project, they had to be resolved by fax or
telephone discussion. It was vital that both design offices have the
same drawings and documentation, so a dedicated link was set up
for daily transfers. Drawings done in Malmö would be encrypted
and sent by satellite, navy to navy, to Adelaide.
Gairey recalls that the Australian navy team at Malmö had

many debates with Kockums’ designers, but he does not recall
any issues that could not be resolved. Significantly, he says: ‘the
problems that arose later caught us by surprise. They were things
we didn’t expect. Whether we should have been better prepared
is a good question.’
During the controversies that raged around the submarine
project in the late 1990s, many aspects of the design were ques-
tioned. Hindsight is a wonderful thing, but how were these issues
looked at by the Kockums designers, their Australian protégés,
and the project team in the late 1980s?
The shape of Australia’s new submarines was taken directly
from that of the Västergötland. Looked at in profile the two classes
are almost identical. The hull shape of the Västergötland, as with
all Swedish submarines, was developed jointly by Kockums, the
Swedish navy and SSPA Maritime Consulting AB (now SSPA Swe-
den AB) in Göteborg. Hans Peder Loid, who was managing direc-
tor of SSPA when the Västergötland was designed, recalls that all
the design activity for Swedish submarines was between Kockums,
FMV and SSPA and no changes would take place unless all three
were united. It was never a rigid supplier/customer relationship.
If there was anything not completely necessary on the hull, SSPA
would reject it, as a tiny protrusion or an extra hull penetration
could make a big difference to noise levels.
Tank testing of models for new classes was done as a normal
procedure, and he was involved with the tests of the Västergötland
and of the Australian design up to the signing of the final contract.
At that stage the testing done at SSPA had revealed no problems.
Loid emphasised that the shape of the Australian submarine at
that time was the same as the Västergötland except bigger, so
there was no reason why its hydrodynamic signature would not
be identical to a Swedish submarine unless things were added to
it later during the design or construction.
However, the hull design of the Collins class did alter from
that put forward at the end of the project definition study. The
submarine became even bigger – although this in itself should not
have affected the water flow characteristics – and other changes
were made that had the potential to affect the submarine’s noise
level. For example, it was discovered that the sonar suppliers,
Thomson-CSF, had underestimated the required clear angles for
the sonar and the design had to be stretched one metre forward
to accommodate the sonar accessories and one metre aft to retain
balance, while the sonar bow dome shape had to be drastically
re-designed. The modified design was not tank tested, mainly due
to disagreement about who should bear the cost of building a new
model to test.4
Mark Gairey says that in retrospect both the Swedes and
the Australians were looking at potential noise problems from
the perspective of the Oberons, where the noise came mainly
from the machinery. Machinery noise was overcome in Swedish-
designed submarines by construction using resilient platforms
with rubber isolation elements. This link between the design and
the modular construction techniques had been one of the great
attractions of the Swedish bid. However, while concentrating
on eliminating machinery noise, neither the Swedes nor the
Australians anticipated problems with hydrodynamic noise.
Gairey suggests that:
In part it was our inexperience and in part because of the
way the Swedes operated their submarines, they had never
seen these problems. I’m sure that their submarines would
have the same problems if operated by our people, but they
didn’t so it was a surprise for them as well.
The Swedes operated at very short range. They’re very
much a coastal defence force . . . They went four hours out of
harbour and sat there. They weren’t running at any sort of
speed for any sort of distance . . . Whereas we had big
distances to transit to an operating area and we wanted to
transit as quickly as we could, while remaining undetected. It
was a completely new set of requirements . . . Maybe they
could have done more model testing but they were looking at
Collins through a Swedish frame of reference. They didn’t do
with their submarines what we did so they didn’t have the
problems and they didn’t anticipate that we would. They
didn’t realise our operating environment was so different. In
retrospect they should have done more testing but at the time
it seemed that what they did was fine. We were totally
surprised by the problems we had and the Swedes were just
as surprised.
Critics of the Collins class submarines have argued: ‘The shape of

the submarines in the water was a disaster because of the insistence
on six torpedo tubes across the front so that the submarine has a
front like a circumcised dick.’5 The designers agree that the snub
nose of the Collins class creates turbulence when on the surface,
but the submarine spends most of its time submerged, where the
bow shape works well, although the area aft of the bow where
the sonar dome joins the casing was later found to be a source of
turbulence.
Gunnar Öhlund, who worked on the bow design, says the
arrangement of tubes side by side provides compact weapons stor-
age and enables fully automated handling and loading. He argues
that this had no consequences for the hull shape and there are ben-
efits for firing in keeping the torpedo tubes below the boat’s centre
line. This design has worked well with the Swedish submarines.6
SSPA in Göteborg was closely involved in the design of pro-
pellers for Swedish submarines and also for the new Australian
submarine. In the 1980s the Swedish submarines had a problem
with a ‘singing’ propeller but a lot of research and then a few small
marks on the propellers were enough to fix this. However, cavita-
tion was always the main concern with Swedish propellers. SSPA
developed a computer program that prevented the crew operating
the submarines in a way that caused cavitation and this essentially
solved the problem on Swedish submarines before the Australian
project, although it could emerge if the design was changed or the
propeller was poorly manufactured.
Generally the requirements for the submarines were stated in
performance terms, but in some areas design requirements were
specified. One of these was that the propellers be made from
Sonoston or a similar highly damped alloy because it had been
used in recent American submarine propellers.7 Unfortunately the
Australian navy did not known that the alloy was liable to crack
and had been abandoned by the Americans. Mark Gairey com-
ments that: ‘In hindsight, this was a mistake and we should have
concentrated on the “no cavitation” requirement and left it to the
designer to solve.’
A controversial aspect of the design of the new submarines
was the decision to have flat rather than round bulkheads in the
bow and stern sections. The Swedish navy had used both round
and flat bulkheads and decided that either worked. Kockums saw
flat bulkheads as robust, saving space and allowing the torpedo
tubes to be positioned identically. They have been used in Swedish
submarines since the Sea Serpent class of the 1960s, which are still
in service with the Singapore navy, indicating that hulls built with
flat bulkheads can have a very long life.8
Some significant design changes were initiated by the Aus-
tralian navy team at Malmö which, while beneficial, often caused
contractual difficulties. One such change occurred with the air
purification system. Greg Stuart, the senior engineer with the
project, recalls that the Swedish system in the original design
was ‘heavy and inefficient’. Stuart contacted Wellman Processing
Engineering of Birmingham, England, which owned the technol-
ogy used for air purification on some British and American sub-
marines. Working with Wellman, Stuart calculated that changing
the air purification system could save length and weight on the
submarines, and he developed a proposal for a ‘mini-scrubber’
to remove carbon dioxide and other acid gases. The first unit
was called ‘Kylie’, ‘the little Aussie scrubber’, and the second was
called ‘Dannii’. Although Oscar Hughes as project director always
resisted changes as they would threaten the budget and the sched-
ule, he realised that the new air purifier would benefit the project
and approved the change, even though there was an argument
that it should have been a designer’s change rather than a cost to
the project. Greg Stuart says that: ‘We could have left the scrubber
until they did trials and told Kockums that their system did not
meet endurance specifications, but the new system would have
been hard or impossible to back-fit and . . . the boat was getting
too heavy and the scrubber change helped reduce this.’
Another change made late in the design process was the speci-
fication for electrical cabling. A particular ‘low fire hazard’ cable
had been specified in the contract but later tests showed that it
was a serious fire risk. Greg Stuart recalls going to see Oscar
Hughes and saying that the cable would cause a disaster one day.
Although the project was in a poor position to enforce a change
and it would cause delays and increased weight, Hughes agreed
that it was needed.9
The way the change was implemented showed a degree of
commonsense and flexibility that was perhaps lacking later in the
project. Oscar Hughes recalls:
There was no choice but to change the cables to a less toxic

sheathing material. The challenge lay in the implications in
terms of schedule (a potential delay of 14 months) and cost
on the program as the first submarine was well advanced. As

I recall, the solution reached also involved consideration of
the redesign of the bilge pump . . . ASC agreed to accept
responsibility for the design and procurement of a new bilge
pump, the Commonwealth agreed to fund the cost of the new
cables including small premiums for a shortened
manufacturing lead time and their installation. ASC agreed to
fund the electrical cable redesign work required by Kockums
and other sub-contractors and to maintain the original
delivery schedule as contracted, and the Commonwealth
agreed to waive liquidated damages for late delivery of the
first submarine for up to three months. (The cost to the
project was about) $6m . . . a figure significantly less than a
delay to the program of 14 months noting the safety benefits
of the new cable material and the greatly enhanced
performance of the new bilge pump. A great outcome!10
A significant change that had major consequences for the sub-

marine design came about through the addition of anechoic tiles.
There had always been a requirement that the submarine be able
to be fitted with tiles, but their specifications were unknown until
well into the design process. It turned out that the tiles were sig-
nificantly heavier than expected, so the submarines had to grow
by several hundred tonnes to provide sufficient buoyancy to carry
them. Inevitably this had ramifications for many other aspects of
the design.11
The active design process continued in Malmö throughout the
late 1980s and early 1990s, even as the site in Adelaide was pre-
pared and construction of the first submarines began. As building
progressed the responsibility for finalising the design was gradu-
ally transferred to Adelaide, where an increasing amount of the
work was done by Australians. As Martin Edwards says, a con-
siderable number of Australians had by then been working on the
design for four or five years and had significant experience – in
some areas more experience with the Collins class than the Swedes
who had originally been teaching them.
CHAPTER 13
Building submarines
By late 1989 the Australian Submarine Corporation’s new ship-

yard was completed. ASC moved from its temporary premises in
Woodville and construction of the first hull sections began in the
150 metre long workshop.
By that time work was already underway at hundreds of facto-
ries around the world on parts and equipment for the submarines.
At Champagne-sur-Seine on the outskirts of Paris the first propul-
sion motor was being built, and the Westinghouse factory in
Sydney was preparing to build five more. At Hedemora in
Sweden the prototype diesel engine had been built and tested,
and Australian Defence Industries at Garden Island in Sydney was
gearing up to build the remaining engines. Strachan & Henshaw in
Bristol was working closely with Kockums and the manufacturers,
Australian Defence Industries in Bendigo, Victoria, on the design
and construction of the torpedo tubes and weapons discharge sys-
tems. At Jönköping in southern Sweden Saab Instruments was
working with its Australian partner Wormald on the ship con-
trol system – regarded as one of the riskiest areas of the sub-
marine project. At Kockums’ shipyard in Mälmo welding crews
were at work on two major sections of the first submarine. At its
142
BUILDING SUBMARINES 143
plant in Blacktown, New South Wales, Chicago Bridge & Iron

had begun fabrication of the steel for sections to be assembled in
Adelaide, while the engineering firm Johns Perry, a subsidiary of
Boral, was beginning the complex manufacture of the platforms
on which most of the equipment would be assembled before being
inserted into the hull sections. Across the road from ASC, the
battery factory of Pacific Marine Batteries was the first of what
was hoped would be a whole industrial suburb of defence-related
factories.
Hundreds of companies in Australia and overseas were begin-
ning work on thousands of smaller items. In Norway Phontech
was making broadcast speakers and magnetic loop amplifiers, and
in Melbourne Ryco Hydraulics was making hoses and compo-
nents. In Denmark Novenco Anderberg was making high pressure
air dryers, and in Brisbane Liset Engineering made steel moulds
for the submarines’ casings. British company Michell Bearings
won the contract for propeller shaft thrust bearings, which were
to be made by Perry Engineering in Adelaide. And with the sub-
contracts came staff from Kockums, ASC and the project office to
teach, advise and ensure that quality standards were met.
Overseas companies began working closely with Australian
companies in training staff and preparing factories to manufacture
components in Australia. For example, British company Marconi
Underwater Systems had a contract for designing acoustic win-
dows and transferring technology to Australia. The first set was to
be made in Britain so Australians could learn the process, with the
later sets to be made in Toowoomba, Queensland, by Buchanan
Aircraft Corporation.
Many of these overseas companies set up Australian sub-
sidiaries to manufacture components in Australia. For example,
Rexroth GmbH of Germany had a contract for hydraulic pumps,
which were made by its Australian subsidiary in Adelaide.
Parts made around the world ranged from tiny fasteners and
clamps to the two complete sections of the first submarine made
by Kockums. These all had to arrive in Adelaide in a systematic
way to be fitted to each submarine as it went through the assembly
process, when the modules from around Australia and the world
were put together. ASC did not have extensive workshops but did
need to have sophisticated project management and integration
skills.
An additional factor in building the Collins class was that it

was approached as a fast-track design and build program, mean-
ing that building began before the design was completed. This
technique is common with many large projects, lowering cost
by reducing the schedule imposed by waiting for the completed
design. However, it carries obvious risks and can put great pressure
on participants.1 Constant design changes were the biggest chal-
lenge faced by many sub-contractors on the submarine project.
Most of the hundreds of sub-contracts went smoothly but,
somewhat ironically, one of the few that caused difficulties was
that with Kockums for the construction of the 300 and 600 sec-
tions of the first submarine. Roger Sprimont recalls that there
were several reasons why Kockums fought hard to build the first
submarine in Sweden. Partly, of course, the company wanted the
work for its own shipyard, but, more importantly, it was seen as
the best way to prove the various production procedures being
developed by Kockums. Also, Kockums felt it was important to
manage Chicago Bridge & Iron and prevent it from taking com-
plete control of the hull production in Australia with procedures
not suited to Kockums’ design philosophy. As it turned out Aus-
tralia resisted having the whole of the first submarine built in
Malmö, and Kockums agreed to a compromise whereby it would
build the two most complex sections.
The work successfully proved Kockums’ production proce-
dures and transferred them to Australians from ASC. Yet despite
Kockums’ lengthy experience, the welding in these sections proved
to be seriously flawed. And as with so many parts of the Collins
story, different people have totally different versions of what went
wrong, why it went wrong, and how serious it was.2
Greg Stuart was one of the first to raise the alarm. Stuart made
regular visits to Kockums while the two sections were being built
and, talking one day with Lina da Silva, a Brazilian who was
ASC’s inspector at Kockums, was told, ‘I’ve got a problem. I know
Collins is wrong and no one will listen to me.’ The Australians
had free access to the Kockums yard and the two of them went to
look at the sections, where Stuart could see many obvious defects
in the welding. As he succinctly expressed it: ‘With welding, if it
looks like shit, it is shit.’
Fortuitously, Oscar Hughes arrived in Sweden the following
Monday morning and Stuart took him to Kockums as soon as
he got off the plane. They looked at the two sections without
telling anyone, but the Swedes soon heard that the Australian
admiral was in the submarine wearing a hard hat and overalls.
When Hughes and Stuart emerged there was a line-up of senior
Kockums executives waiting for them. Hughes told them: ‘There’s
a big problem and we need to sort it out.’
Stuart recalls that Kockums held a meeting with its welding
engineers and others who said that the welding problems were not
serious. He disagreed strongly, saying that there were hundreds of
visually identifiable defects and he believed that the safety of the
hull was in question.3
Tomy Hjorth, chairman of Kockums and ASC, recalls that
Kockums suggested keeping the sections in Sweden for several
months to repair the defective welds, but Don Williams and Oscar
Hughes were committed to maintaining schedule and asked that
they be sent to Australia where ASC would make the repairs. The
Australians were doing all they could to keep the project moving
and feared that repairing the welds in Sweden would cause lengthy
delays. On the other hand, Mark Gairey saw it as ‘a game call as
at that stage we were not as certain then of the conservative design
and therefore of Collins’ safety’. Nor were they yet certain that
ASC’s welding at Adelaide would reach the required standard.
Accepting the sections with known welding defects involved a
degree of risk.
How did the problem arise? Greg Stuart argues that the main
reason was that the submarines were built with a new steel
alloy developed in Sweden and improved by BHP and Australian
defence scientists, which required different welding techniques
to those normally used by Kockums’ welders. In addition, the
Australian navy required the use of full penetration welds – where
the Swedes had always used partial penetration welds – and a
new type of welding rod. Stuart’s view is that Kockums was over-
confident in the ability of its welders to adapt to the new tech-
niques and did not rigorously supervise and inspect the work.
Those at Kockums generally agree that the welding was
faulty, but contend that its seriousness was exaggerated and used
by the Commonwealth as a bargaining tool after the relation-
ship between Kockums and the Commonwealth collapsed in the
late 1990s. While conceding that their welders did not prop-
erly follow procedures with the new steel and techniques, they
argue the construction was rushed for reasons outside Kockums’

control. The construction schedule for the modules was tight,
and it became tighter because ASC was late in delivering the
steel hull plates. Eventually some of these were flown to Sweden
on chartered jumbo jets, but Kockums was still forced to work
under severe time pressures and this contributed to the welding
problems.
Australian sub-contractors were generally able to reach the
quality standards required for the project, although they some-
times encountered different problems, possibly through their
inexperience with defence contracts. The experience of Boral, a
diversified industrial conglomerate with subsidiaries involved in
several areas of the project, illustrates some of these.
Johns Perry was one of Australia’s major engineering contrac-
tors and, before its takeover by Boral, had been seen as a potential
submarine consortium member. It won a major sub-contract to
build 40 platforms (the first two being built in Sweden) on which
all the interiors of the submarines were constructed.
Manufacture was a highly sophisticated welding exercise. The
platforms have a honeycomb construction designed to resist shock
and minimise vibration, and their production involved welding
hundreds of small components. It proved to be a far greater chal-
lenge than the company had imagined. Bruce Kean, the managing
director of Boral at the time, recalls that they had the technical
capability and systems to do it but underestimated the complexity
of the overall submarine design process. They were overwhelmed
by the myriad changes to design detail and the consequent need
for extensive rework, compounded by the late supply of key com-
ponents from ASC. The need to keep detailed certified records
of the work, including the changes, was a mammoth adminis-
trative exercise in itself. From the contractor’s point of view it
was a nightmare, but ASC finally accepted that costs for design
changes could be recovered. Johns Perry lost money but developed
its quality assurance techniques and learnt many important skills
that proved invaluable in later contracts.
The platforms produced by Perry Engineering were sent to ASC
Engineering for outfitting. ASC Engineering, on the old works of
T. O’Connor & Sons, was a subsidiary of ASC that fitted out
the platforms and manufactured components for the submarines
but also sought other defence and private sector engineering.
Mark Gobell, who had worked for O’Connor since 1973, was
among the staff who transferred after ASC Engineering’s takeover
in 1991. One of the first things that happened was that he and
several others went to Sweden to see how Kockums outfitted the
platforms on their sections of the first submarine. They returned to
prepare ASC Engineering to fit out the platforms when delivered
by Perry Engineering. All the equipment, mechanical components,
piping, electrical components and even the trim and fittings were
attached and some pre-testing of the systems undertaken before
the platforms were transported to ASC for insertion into the sub-
marine.
As with all the Australian sub-contractors, ASC Engineering
had to take special steps to meet the project’s quality standards.
It gained quality certification and trained staff, particularly in the
areas of welding and electrical work, to standards far more rigor-
ous than for civilian work. All sub-contractor work was physically
inspected by the submarine project team. At the project office John
Batten was responsible for enforcing contract standards. Batten
recalls that his staff continually checked factories around Aus-
tralia and sampled by physical inspection almost 20 per cent of
the work done. Each month about 160 large reports were made on
the progress of the sub-contractors and the quality of their work.
While the sub-contractors around the world were building
their particular components, ASC’s yard was proceeding steadily
on the construction of the hulls.4 An important milestone was
the ‘keel-laying’ ceremony for the first submarine on 14 Febru-
ary 1990, at which Kim Beazley announced the names of the six
submarines. They were named for six Australian sailors of the Sec-
ond World War – Collins, Farncomb, Waller, Dechaineux, Sheean
and Rankin. HMAS Collins, as the first boat, gave its name to the
class.5
Each submarine was built in six sections, each of which con-
sisted of several ‘cans’. The sections were numbered 100, 200,
300, 400, 500 and 600, with 600 being the forward section and
100 being the aft section. Each sub-section was numbered; so, for
example, the 200 section is made up of a 210, 220, 230, with 210
made up of two cans, 220 of three cans and 230 of two cans –
seven cans welded together to make the complete section.
The first major work at Osborne was welding three curved
plates of steel to make the cans and then welding the cans together
to make four hull sections for the first submarine. Welding the
cans and sections was among the most critical and risky parts
of the whole project. The high-tensile steel used for submarine
hulls required the highest quality welding, with welding problems
being among the most frequent reasons for delays or even failure
of submarine projects around the world. One of the great suc-
cess stories of the project was that the welding techniques used
by ASC, developed in conjunction with DSTO, proved highly
successful.6
The hull construction shop is 150 metres long and 40 metres
wide and is divided into a series of workstations. At workstation
100 the curved plates from CBI were welded to form the can,
using full penetration, manual metal arc welding. The can of about
20 tonnes then moved to workstation 200. Here the ‘T’ stiffeners
from CBI and bulkheads from Perry Engineering were welded into
the cans. The stiffeners were welded to the inner part of the hull
with an automated submerged arc welding machine. One side of
the can would be fully welded and then the whole can would be
picked up, spun around and put down to allow work on the other
side of the T-stiffener welds. Magnetic particle testing occurred in
the weld prior to welding the second side. After the second side
weld was complete there would be 100 per cent visual, 100 per
cent magnetic particle and 100 per cent ultrasonic inspections;
10 per cent of the welds on the pressure hull were also subjected
to X-ray inspections.
All the material on the hull was micro-alloy steel, designed
to absorb energy and buckle rather than fracture if subjected to
explosions. However, such steel loses its granular structure and
therefore its strength if it is cooled too quickly. Consequently, the
steel structure had to be preheated and postheated for all welding
operations. It was potentially extremely dangerous to use heaters
while welding in confined spaces, so ASC developed a process
of heating the steel using low voltage heaters that lessened the
chances of accidents.
With stiffeners and bulkheads in place, the cans were moved on
to workstation 300, put on rollers and welded using an automated
process developed by ASC. The cans rotated past the fixed welding
machine, joining seven cans to make a complete section.
Four sections were built from the outside in – first putting the
cans together, then adding the frames – but several cans in two
sections were built from the inside out. These were the cans with
flat bulkheads in the front and mid sections. In these cans shear
plates were welded first, followed by the stiffeners, the frames
and the infill plates, and finally the hull plate was welded around
the fabricated section, becoming so strong that the production
workers called it the ‘egg crate’.
Before all the sections were welded together most of the tanks
were welded into the hull. There are over 50 tanks in each sub-
marine, including freshwater tanks, ballast tanks, trim tanks, fuel
tanks, waste water tanks and torpedo compensation tanks.
As the cans were joined into sections, they were put in cradles
so they could be moved around the hull shop by rail, and eventu-
ally the whole submarine could be rolled out to the ship lift.
After the welders had finished as much ‘hot work’ as possible,
sections went to the blast and paint chamber, which was fully
enclosed and designed to take all the submarine sections. It would
take several months to blast and paint each section – a source of
frustration because meanwhile nothing else could be done with
the section.
Blasting in the confined spaces of the submarine sections was
difficult and unpleasant work. At each stage the section had to be
vacuumed and inspected before painting. Blasting and painting the
external hull was comparatively easy, especially compared to work
inside the tanks. It was often impossible to paint in winter because
of cold surfaces, and later ASC installed heating to improve the
schedule.
After several months in the blast and paint shop it was on to the
outfitting shop. Göran Christensson from Kockums was the first
manager of the outfitting shop, and when he returned to Sweden
in 1990 Robert Lemonius from Cockatoo Island took over the
role.
The 200 section of each submarine was always the first to enter
outfitting, where the major equipment received from Australia
and overseas would be installed. For the first boat much of this
came from overseas, but afterwards from Perry Engineering (steel
fabrication) and ASC Engineering (outfitting) in Adelaide. The
machinery and platforms arrived in the outfitting shop with the
sections outfitted sufficiently for platforms to be installed. These
came from Kockums for the first section of the first submarine,
but thereafter were made in Adelaide by Johns Perry.
Some areas of the submarine are almost inaccessible after

the platforms are in place, so everything had to be in perfect
order before major equipment such as the battery compartments
was installed. There was always a temptation to complete plat-
form installation as this was a key milestone in the progress
of each submarine, but it was a serious mistake to do it too
early as it made uncompleted work inaccessible or difficult to
complete.
Cabling is always a major challenge in submarine construction
because the cables are installed in continuous lengths wherever
possible, avoiding cable junction boxes and lessening the oppor-
tunities for faults. However, this means that there will be numer-
ous cables rolled up into lengths on sections or on platforms that
can only be connected when the submarine’s sections are joined
up and the cable can be rolled out.
Piping presents similar challenges. Each Collins submarine has
about 23 kilometres of piping, and early in the project ASC
decided to invest in an expensive pipe-bending machine rather
than use straight lengths of pipe and then weld in pre-bent elbows.
The reason for this was that the specification for pipe welding was
extremely demanding, requiring extensive testing and inspection
and making welding expensive.
While the hull construction was proceeding, ASC engineers
worked on the tooling required to install different equipment on
the boats. For example, the propulsion motor weighs about 90
tonnes, and large jigs and fixtures were required to transfer and
load the engines into the submarines at the appropriate stage of
the outfitting process.
Once adjoining sections had been outfitted as completely as
possible, they would be welded together using manual arc welding.
These joints took about four weeks to complete, running teams of
six welders in three shifts around the clock, and had to be perfectly
round.
With joints consolidated and outfitting completed, initial test-
ing of systems and equipment began in preparation for the launch
of the submarine. After the launch the submarine would spend
about nine months alongside the wharf during the ‘set to work’
program, ensuring that all the systems worked to the original
specifications.
On 24 July 1993 the first submarine completed outfitting and

testing and ASC held a rollout ceremony. Simon Ridgway recalls
that:
We had been going for four years in construction and it was
an opportunity to say: ‘Hey, we’ve actually built a finished
product.’ It was a great day to recognise everyone’s
achievement. Everyone was allowed to invite their family and
the submarine was rolled out, using our 40 tonne crane as a
tractor to pull it out of the outfitting shop and onto the
hardstand.
CHAPTER 14
The automated integrated vision
Part 1: The combat system 1987–93

The success of the weapons update program for the Oberons gave
Australian submariners a vision for a fully-integrated combat sys-
tem and also prompted them to consider combining this with
a highly-automated ship control and management system. The
automated, integrated vision became central to the requirements
for the new submarines and was one of the highlights of Kim
Beazley’s press release on the announcement of the contracts in
May 1987:
The combat system for the new submarines represents about

one third of the construction cost and will be assembled in
Sydney by Rockwell Ship Systems Australia . . . The
computerised combat system will be more advanced than any
yet installed in a diesel-electric submarine . . . All tasks can be
carried out at any of the multi-function common console
work stations in the control centre. There is no central
processor to present a single point of failure and the data
152
THE AUTOMATED INTEGRATED VISION 153
distribution system can sustain significant damage or failure

and still function satisfactorily.
A prime example of the new technology is the ship
management system, which greatly minimises the workload
by providing computer-based control and monitoring though
common multi-function consoles. It is the main reason why
the crew can be reduced to 41 compared with the
Oberons’ 63.1
The ship control and management system is widely regarded as

one of the great successes of the submarine project, but the combat
system never approached the level of performance dreamed of by
those who planned ‘the world’s best combat system’ or demanded
by the contract specifications. Although overshadowed in the pub-
lic mind by the mechanical problems revealed during the trials
period in the late 1990s, the combat system was by far the most
serious and intractable problem of the project. If the combat sys-
tem had worked as planned the history of the project would have
a far rosier glow.
During 1987 and 1988 teams of engineers and designers in
Sweden, California, Australia and France began planning to make
the automated, integrated vision a reality. There was no sense of
foreboding but several critical decisions had already been made
that resonated controversially throughout the project. These deci-
sions have been blamed for most of the difficulties the combat
system project encountered, but there is a total lack of consensus
on how and when these decisions were made and their relative
consequences for the combat system.2
At the most fundamental level, the ‘architecture’ of the com-
bat system is frequently seen as either fundamentally flawed or too
ambitious (or both) and this is usually sheeted home to the orig-
inal requirements drawn up by the project team and the SWSC.
Ian MacDougall as director of submarine policy and warfare was
involved in writing the concept papers for the new submarine in
the mid-1980s, and he believes they made a mistake by speci-
fying distributed architecture as this was too big a step for the
technology available at the time. He still feels bitter towards the
‘big contractors who all signed up and said they could do it, but
then failed to deliver’. Nobody told the navy that ‘this cannot be
achieved’.
Many later observers also see the initial design concept as

overly ambitious. Colin Cooper, who was combat system man-
ager for the new submarine project from 1993 to 2003, argues that
‘the design concept was probably 30 years ahead of the reality of
processor and memory capacity, system hardware and software
able to support that concept’.3 Even Oscar Hughes, the project
director, thinks that in retrospect ‘we were too ambitious with the
combat system’.
It is widely believed that the combat system was designed by
the SWSC and that the design was then imposed on Rockwell.
This is not an entirely accurate view. The centre, together with the
submarine project office, drew up the detailed specifications and
operational requirements for the combat system, but it did not
design the system. Diagrams of the Rockwell and Signaal systems
submitted after the project definition study show that they differed
greatly, and were not simply quoting to build a system which
was already designed. The SWSC laid down what the combat
system should be able to do and recommended the use of the Ada
language and distributed architecture, but it did not design the
combat system.
Perhaps not surprisingly, those who were involved with the
combat system specifications argue that the problems arose from
poor implementation rather than misguided specifications. They
argue that the Rockwell team made major errors in designing its
system, and these were exacerbated by poor choices of processors,
compilers and other hardware, an overly academic approach to
writing the software and, finally, incompetence at integrating the
various components of the combat system. Mick Millington, for
instance, argues that the star-connected fibre optic data bus could
never guarantee the bandwidth the system required and it was
‘doomed based on that alone’.
The boffins from the SWSC are not alone in their view. Ron
Dicker, with his unique perspective on the issues as a former Dutch
submarine commander, manager of the Signaal bid for the com-
bat system and ASC’s combat system manager, argues that the
main cause of the problems with the combat system was not the
architecture, although the requirement that ‘any console can do
all functions’ and ‘all consoles can do any function’ simultane-
ously created unnecessary difficulties. In Dicker’s view the prob-
lems arose because
Rockwell in their desire to retain ownership of the system

design had contracted core elements . . . all over the place
[and] that did not allow them in the end to manage the
design evolution and integration and to take advantage of the
rapid developments in computer technology.4
Rick Neilson recalls that he was the person who said when prepar-
ing the requirements, ‘we will do this combat system in Ada’. This
turned out to be a problem, although he argues that Ada as a
language was not the problem; rather it was the newness of the
language, which meant that much of the support for it was uncer-
tain. This showed up particularly in the choice of compilers for
converting the Ada software to machine code compatible with the
68000 processor series. It was not clear which compiler was most
suitable and Rockwell gambled by choosing Verdix, which proved
slow, and could produce corrupt code. Nevertheless, the Rockwell
consortium was stuck with them.5 The problem became critical
when Rockwell wanted to further upgrade its processor (after hav-
ing done so before with the 68030 and 68040) and Verdix refused
to develop another new compiler for the 68060.
The decision to use the Motorola family of 68000 processors
was itself an issue, heading up a dead end. In the mid-1980s the
68000s were the best available, but the triumph of Microsoft and
Windows over Apple’s Macs meant development of the 68000
ceased while the power of Intel processors multiplied exponen-
tially. The decision to use Motorola processors was made by Rock-
well (with the encouragement, at least, of the project office) at
an early stage in putting together its bid, and was subsequently
incorporated in the combat system specification.6 This was one of
several decisions that pushed the project into technological back-
waters.
Many of the woes of the combat system project were the result
of unlucky timing. Critical decisions were made just as the PC
revolution was beginning. One of the consequences of this was
that almost all the hardware the project used was custom built
and better commercial hardware was available shortly afterwards.
Chris Miller of Computer Sciences recalled that:
The displays were custom built and programmed using
Librascope code. The disks were built using custom
hardware and then programmed from the ground up (with
the result that accessing the disks was a task in itself). The
backbone fibre optic bus that connected all the components
and the software that was written to run it was developed
from scratch. Likewise for the command plot, the plasma
display units and so on.7
The use of custom-built hardware separated the project from the

rapid progress of the computer industry in the late 1980s and early
1990s. Further, the use of standard hardware would have allowed
the use of standard software.
The structure of the contract for the combat system was
unusual and bitterly opposed by both ASC and the Rockwell
consortium. Essentially the Commonwealth forced contractual
responsibility onto ASC, though it neither chose the sub-
contractor nor knew, for security reasons, the specifications of
the system. ASC was responsible for the successful delivery of the
combat system, but it had limited ability to ensure that this hap-
pened. Just the night before the contracts were signed, Rockwell
was pushing to have a contract directly with the Commonwealth,
not wanting to be subservient to a fledgling prime contractor.
‘Team Rockwell’, which had seemed from the outside to be a
powerful and united consortium during the contract negotiations,
rapidly began to fall apart under the stress of its internal tensions.
Singer Librascope’s relations with Rockwell remained poisonous
and it offered no help to other members of the consortium.
Rick Neilson, with Oscar Hughes’ agreement, joined Rockwell
in August 1987. At that time Rockwell had no organisation in
Australia, but about 20 people from the team that had been in
Canberra for the final stages of the bid stayed on to form the
nucleus of Rockwell Ship Systems Australia, with Neilson joining
as the first Australian employee.
Rockwell set up in Sydney in late 1987 and Neilson remembers
that they scoured the universities and hired dozens of graduates,
who joined with enormous enthusiasm but ‘they were old, old
men after a couple of years’. They tried to make the combat system
happen and ‘it turned out not to be all that easy’.
Meanwhile, John Pascall, another from the SWSC team, was
in Anaheim as part of the submarine project’s liaison team. He
found Rockwell treated the Australian system like any project for
the US Navy, where it would produce the first version, find all
the bugs and then re-engineer the system to fix them. Feasible
with American production runs, the approach was not viable for
Australia’s six units. With the Collins system each fix was a loss
and by 1990 the company was starting to lose money.
Pascall recalls an incident revealing something of Rockwell’s
approach to the project. At one stage he had told Rockwell that
its practice of adding patches with myriad wires and switches
breached all NATO standards, to be told that the patches were
temporary and would be fixed ‘at the next contract’. Rockwell did
not understand that Oscar Hughes was determined there would
not be a ‘next contract’.
Computer Sciences of Australia’s primary task was writing
the software for the tactical data handling system, ‘the bubble
in the middle of the combat system’. Within the tactical data
handling system were three major elements: the multi-function
common consoles, the command plot and the two systems super-
visory units, with CSA’s software running these central hardware
systems.
Computer Sciences was taking on by far the biggest defence
project it had been involved with, and attempted to plan its work
using the latest tools. ‘Teamwork’ – ‘a structured analysis
technique using data flow diagrams’ – was used to produce its
‘requirement specification’ based on the contracted performance
specification. It took a team of about 25 engineers 18 months to do
the requirements analysis but at the end ‘the navy saw it and asked
“What does it mean and what can we do with it?”’ Teamwork had
‘pushed out documents that were monumental and unreadable by
humans’.8
The story of Teamwork epitomises a central problem with
Computer Sciences’ approach to its task: it became overly con-
cerned with computer science issues and lost sight of the ultimate
aim of the project – to produce an efficient and effective sub-
marine combat system. Computer Sciences spent over 18 months
planning its work and undertaking the requirement analysis. Rod
Farrow, who was project manager from 1988 to 1993, thinks that
in hindsight the timetable was ludicrous. Computer Sciences had a
contract to develop the tactical data handling system in 48 months
from 9 September 1987. After about 36 months, Computer Sci-
ences produced a ‘build zero’ of the system. This ‘showed they’d
got the run time execution working’ and a few other parts of the
system also, but ‘it wasn’t very much and they were a long way
from producing a tactical data handling system that would enable
Rockwell to make a combat system’.9
Chris Miller, who had worked with Computer Sciences on the
navy’s helicopter simulator at Nowra before moving to the sub-
marine project in 1989, had the same view. He ‘never saw a plain
English description of what the combat system was meant to do’
and felt that the combat system project was focused more on com-
puter sciences than ‘how it would work with people sailing around
with it’.
The biggest challenge for Computer Sciences was the require-
ment for ‘graceful degradation’. In the architecture of the system
there were two systems supervisory units (which were like servers
with hard disks), seven multi-function consoles and a command
plot. The system had to be able to keep working even if the SSUs
and three of the consoles were damaged or otherwise out of action,
‘gracefully degrade’ down to just four consoles that could take
over the functions of the SSUs the instant they crashed. At this
time computer memory was a scarce and precious commodity
and the requirement for graceful degradation was responsible for
‘eating up’ much of the available memory and crashing the system.
Tony Smith, a former submarine commander who had worked
on the specifications in the early 1980s and later tried to build
the combat system when Boeing took over Rockwell’s defence
business, argues that the initial operational requirements were
misinterpreted when they were converted into performance spec-
ifications. The submarine operators wanted all the information
available on all the multi-function consoles so that there would
be no loss of data if one or more crashed or were damaged. In
the specifications this was interpreted as a requirement for zero
latency – that the information had to be available simultaneously
and instantly on all consoles – but the processing power to do
this was still 10 years away. It did not really have to be instan-
taneous for all functions – a three-second delay for some would
have been quite acceptable for the submariners. Smith’s view is
that the requirements had become too demanding for no sensible
reason and there was no contractual flexibility to change these
requirements.
While the teams at Rockwell and Computer Sciences in Syd-
ney were facing growing difficulties with their parts of the combat
system project, the two main overseas sub-contractors, Thomson

Sintra in Cagnes-sur-Mer, France, and Singer Librascope in Glen-
dale, California, had work that was technically within their abil-
ities, although both still found the project challenging.
Bob Clark, another graduate of the SWSC, was sent to Singer
Librascope as leader of the liaison team. Bitter that it had been
cut out of a major role, Singer Librascope had decided it would
fulfil its contract and nothing more. However, as Clark sees it the
contract had been based on work value and not ability. This meant
Thomson – the sonar experts – did not write all the software for
the sonars, and Singer Librascope – the weapons experts – did not
write the software for the weapon displays. Neither was there an
overall systems architect – Rockwell was meant to carry out this
role, but few would say it succeeded.
Singer Librascope fulfilled its part of the contract quickly and
its work was delivered before Computer Sciences was ready; it was
not until several years later that it became obvious there were seri-
ous problems, when Computer Sciences’ software did not merge
with Singer Librascope’s work.
Rod Fayle and Ted Vanderhoek went to Cagnes-sur-Mer as
part of the submarine project’s liaison team with Thomson Sintra,
and Fayle recalls that he had hardly arrived in France before
Rockwell and Thomson were arguing about the boundaries of
their contracts. Ted Vanderhoek also felt that the relationship
between Thomson and Rockwell was adversarial and both sides
became locked into their contractual positions. ‘The Rockwell
people would come to visit Thomson and say, “There’s a prob-
lem and it’s your problem”, rather than “We have a problem”.’
He describes Thomson’s reaction to this as ‘Gallic’, withdrawing
to strict contractual obligations while protecting its intellectual
property and its reputation.
By 1991 Thomson’s development work was nearly complete,
the consoles from Singer Librascope had already been delivered
and other parts of the system were gradually following. Computer
Sciences had built the land-based test site at HMAS Watson and
in the early 1990s began to test the equipment from the various
suppliers.
Most equipment functioned satisfactorily by itself but, as John
Pascall recalls: ‘The problems started when you plugged them
together – we would sit at the consoles and be scared to touch any
buttons because the system would crash.’ In Ted Vanderhoek’s

words: ‘It was a mind-numbing integration period.’ The combat
system was emerging as a major problem for the whole project.
Ron Dicker had been analysing Rockwell’s progress report
data, and at a design review in September 1992 he argued this
showed the system could not be completed until after 1997. Mike
Shearer, the Rockwell program manager, ‘exploded in a volatile
fashion’ and Dicker received no support from either ASC or the
project office.
From the start Rockwell acted as though it was a prime con-
tractor, and the navy tended to encourage this attitude. Tomy
Hjorth recalls asking Oscar Hughes how the combat system was
progressing and Hughes replied, ‘I’ll work with Rockwell and you
work with the rest’. Hjorth and the ASC board agreed that it was
important for ASC to minimise its involvement with Rockwell.
For Oscar Hughes the central focus was on the integrity of the
hull: he knew that the project could not survive if a hull failed,
while the combat system could be fixed or replaced.
By 1992 the combat system project was in disarray, with great
concern that the system would not be operating at anything like
the minimum level needed to begin sea trials in the first submarine.
Within ASC and Kockums there were the first whispers of support
for defaulting Rockwell, and there were even suggestions that the
combat system should be scrapped and the whole project started
again.
Part 2: The ship control system

The idea of using automation to reduce crew sizes had great appeal
for those planning the requirements for Australia’s new subma-
rine. Crew size is a fundamental design criterion because each
person adds to the demand for space, weight, heat and food.
In addition, the Australian submarine squadron suffered from a
chronic shortage of volunteers and it was hoped that the new sub-
marines could be operated with a crew of about 41 rather than
the standard 63 of the Oberons.10
The Swedish navy also had difficulties crewing its submarines,
and Kockums, working closely with Saab Instruments, had
designed submarines to operate with small crews by automating
controls and using computers for shipboard management. Saab

Instruments was closely involved with planning the ship manage-
ment system for the Kockums bid. Gösta Hardebring of Saab came
to Australia several times after March 1984 to talk with Australian
companies to find ‘a partner with capabilities not only for elec-
tronics development and production but even more importantly
with resources for advanced software development’. He assessed
Wormald as the most suitable partner.11
The final contractual negotiations for the ship management
system took place in late 1987 and the contract between Saab
and ASC was signed on 17 December 1987. The same day the
sub-contract was signed between Saab and Wormald. The con-
tractual relationship was complicated because Saab was building
the system to a technical specification made by Kockums, with
Kockums in turn being a sub-contractor for some parts of the
system.
Gösta Hardebring recalls that Saab saw the requirements for
the ship management system as ‘very advanced’ and that ‘the use of
computers and the advanced and extensive software was definitely
unusual at the time’. The navy realised the requirements were
extremely ambitious and it saw the ship management system as
one of the main areas of risk in the whole submarine project.
The ‘integrated ship control and monitoring system’ is the fun-
damental system for controlling the operation of the submarine,
including everything from ‘driving’ the submarine to opening and
closing valves. The system has 19 computers around the subma-
rine on a network that monitors over 5000 data points, checking
the status of every piece of equipment – when pumps turn on and
off, what the battery status is, and so on throughout the subma-
rine – and transferring the information to two points, the control
room and the after machinery control room. At either of these
points an operator can monitor and control all the systems on
the submarine. This ‘fly by wire’ system for manoeuvring the sub-
marine was absolutely critical for the success of the whole new
submarine project.
Saab had the overall responsibility for design, production and
delivery, with a substantial Australian involvement by Wormald
in design, production and planning for long-term support in Aus-
tralia. Saab put a design team of about 50 engineers on the
Australian project and ASC personnel came to work with the

design group in Jönköping.
Like the combat system, the ship control system used Motorola
processors and like the combat system it ran into problems with
processing capacity, but the efficient architecture of the ship con-
trol system meant that the problem was soluble.12 In December
1992 the project agreed to a ‘no cost upgrade’ of the processors
from the Motorola 68020 to the 68030 and the project’s reports
make no further comments on problems with processing power.
Saab built a prototype of the manoeuvring control console,
primarily to test the use of a joystick as an alternative to the tradi-
tional steering wheel. Saab was concerned that Australians might
have a problem with the keyboard on the right and the joystick
on the left, but both ASC and the navy approved.
At one time in the late 1980s fears about the ship control sys-
tem seemed to be justified, with ASC and the project office believ-
ing that it was heading towards catastrophe. At a time when the
combat system attracted few comments in the project’s quarterly
reports, there were frequent warnings about the ship management
system. ASC was always involved in the ship control system and
responded quickly. Jack Atkinson of ASC recalls that by early to
mid-1989:
We were already seeing some serious problems in the
development of . . . the integrated ship control and
monitoring system – in particular difficulties with the
software design. In early 1989 there were increasing signs of
the project going off the rails – we had a contractor, Saab
Instruments, which was working to a specification produced
by Kockums the submarine designer . . . Both were
sub-contractors to us, so with Kockums essentially the driver
of the design requirements, we had the difficult job of
coordinating the design development between Kockums and
Saab.13
Fundamentally – as Jack Atkinson implies – the problems of the

ship control system were not technical but came back to the
contractual situation, which led to a lack of control and direc-
tion. For Gösta Hardebring of Saab, the technical difficulties of
the design phase were not unexpected and could be dealt with,
but the problems that arose were largely due to differences of
interpretation and approach that persisted until the parties coor-

dinated their work. In order to improve communications Saab set
up a liaison office in Adelaide in April 1990, although it did not
have a contractual obligation to do so.
In January 1989 Oscar Hughes gave Captain Peter Hugonnet
the twin jobs of ship control system manager and safety man-
ager, the tasks being combined because the safe operation of the
ship control system was seen as paramount for submarine safety.
Hugonnet, an experienced submariner, recalls that at the first
meeting he went to with Saab and Kockums it became obvious
that there was a stand-off between the two companies. The project
was going ahead but it was not being coordinated – they were both
leaving the ‘big picture’ to each other.
However, the situation was rapidly turned around. Peter
Hatcher, a submariner who was combat system engineering man-
ager with the project, recalls that the turning point was a design
review at Saab Instruments’ headquarters in Jönköping. Hatcher
recalls that
We had mandated the application of certain US safety
standards and . . . about a year in I suppose . . . we had a
memorable design review that became known as the battle of
Jönköping . . . I was team leader and we got stuck right into
them over their developmental processes – the failure mode
effect analysis and how they were going to control the safety
development risk of the whole thing. Because as you can
imagine you can’t . . . just hope there aren’t any little hidden
glitches in there.14
Afterwards, there was a rapid improvement and the parties began

to work together more constructively. One of the major con-
cerns of the project team was the independent verification of the
software, but Peter Hugonnet concluded that neither Saab nor
Kockums would release the source code for this purpose.15 Con-
sequently he talked to Peter Robinson of Wormald, who proposed
a land-based test site (referred to as ‘stay safe’). The project and
ASC both saw this as providing greater oversight and agreed to
share the cost, with ASC later taking over the site. As Peter Hatcher
puts it, this move ‘really overhauled the whole development pro-
cess’ and allowed them to thoroughly test every part of the ship
control system and iron out all the bugs.
Jack Atkinson was appointed to a new software engineering

management position, with a team of about 25–30 software engi-
neers whose first task was to work with Saab and Kockums
on the problems of the ship management system. Stirred into
action, ‘the sub-contractors got the right people on and delivered’
and, together with ASC, they ‘engineered their way out of some
real problems’. By March 1991 the submarine project’s quarterly
report was noting significant improvement on the ship control sys-
tem software development ‘due to ASC presence at Saab, increased
Saab resources and the introduction of a combined ASC Saab and
KAB [Kockums] software integration group’.
In tandem with his work on managing the ship control and
management system, Peter Hugonnet was responsible for devel-
oping a comprehensive safety program for the new submarines.
There was no budget for this work, but Oscar Hughes took the
view that safety was critical and found the money that was needed.
In a minute written in 1991 asking for Hugonnet’s appointment
to be extended, Hughes wrote:
Putting aside the extremely large financial investment
involved in the project, the ramifications of a major
submarine incident . . . are horrendous. We simply cannot
afford to take any risks whatsoever when it comes to safety.
It is not of course just only a matter of being seen to manage
safety but of ensuring that the risk of a major incident is
reduced to an acceptable and defined level. This involves a
highly structured and disciplined approach to the
management of safety with tentacles that permeate all aspects
of the project including design, equipment production,
submarine test and trials, operating test and evaluation,
training, etc.16
Hugonnet recalls that the contract specifications said only that

safety should be ‘generally in accord with Milstandard 882’
but this was open-ended and nothing was defined. At that time
there was no navy-wide safety policy so he started with a clean
sheet of paper, using the American ‘Subsafe’ program as a prece-
dent to develop a complete set of safety procedures for the new
submarines. Among other things Subsafe ensured detailed risk
assessment and management, proper qualification of crews and
maintenance staff and the maintenance of hazard logs to ensure
proper reporting of hazardous situations. The Subsafe program

proved highly effective once the submarines went to sea, with all
the safety systems working well even in extreme situations.
In the early 1990s the ship control system project proceeded
smoothly, with only occasional minor hiccups. Crew training went
well and the system was ready to go to sea for the first trials, where
it rapidly proved one of the great successes of the whole project.
CHAPTER 15
Steel, sonars and tiles:
early technological support
for the submarines
Science has been harnessed to support the defence of Australia

since shortly after federation. In the first half of the 20th cen-
tury this was strongly focused on the munitions industry and
wartime manufacturing, and strong capabilities were developed
in fields such as munitions chemistry, metrology, metallurgy and
aeronautical engineering. After the Second World War defence
science headed in new directions, with a more fundamental
research program across many fields of emerging knowledge. This
led to internationally significant breakthroughs such as colour
photocopying and the black box flight recorder.
The ‘golden age of science’ was curtailed as the economy
stuttered in the late 1970s and 1980s, leading to demands to con-
duct research more closely matched to the needs of the services,
defence industry and various defence ‘customers’. Some activities
(and even whole laboratories) were shed to the civilian sector,
notably CSIRO, but a few were added. The most notable was
the RAN Research Laboratories, which allowed support for naval
operations to be expanded enormously. Support for ships and sub-
marines at the Materials Research Laboratories at Maribyrnong
166
E A R LY T E C H N O L O G I C A L S U P P O R T F O R T H E S U B M A R I N E S 167
emphasised construction and materials, integrity of structures and

ancillary systems, acoustics and vibration, and propulsion.
These new directions helped DSTO provide the navy with the
technical background it needed to become an ‘informed customer’
during the unprecedented ship and submarine acquisition pro-
gram that unfolded after 1980.
DSTO provided research to support all phases of the submarine
project, from John Wallers’ work on the required ship’s charac-
teristics in the early 1980s to assessing and enhancing the two
final tenders, supporting construction, rectifying defects, develop-
ing through-life support and devising capability enhancements.
Defence scientists worked closely with local and overseas aca-
demic and research organisations, the project office, local and
overseas industries, and the international submarine community,
and they played a pivotal role in some of the most significant
periods of the project.
The work carried out by DSTO on steel and welding was crit-
ical to the success of the submarine project. The project team had
found that the Australian steelmaker, BHP, could manufacture
steel for submarine construction but it needed to know much more
to have a feasible construction program. The strength and dura-
bility of the steel chosen had to be proven to withstand repeated
compression and expansion from diving over a 30-year life span.
A testing regime would need to be developed to ensure that all the
steel and the many kilometres of welds in the submarines achieved
the same standard. There were many who believed that the navy
lacked the experience to make judgments on materials, processes
and proof of quality.
In 1985 the project team approached John Ritter and his
team of materials scientists at the DSTO Maribyrnong labora-
tory to solve this problem.1 In the early 1980s the Maribyrnong
team had helped qualify materials for the construction of two
frigates at Williamstown. The job had involved establishing in
Australia an evaluation technique known as the explosion bulge
test. This assesses the resistance of steel against an impact by
observing deformation and fracture in a large piece of 50 mm
thick steel plate (either unwelded or welded) caused by an explo-
sive charge placed close by. The test usually involved the plate
being pre-cooled to −17.8◦ C.2 The US Navy acknowledged the
work of DSTO by granting it special autonomy to conduct the test

independently.
The project definition studies were already underway and the
first task was to assess the performance of the materials offered.
The German proposal seemed the easier to assess. HDW/IKL
would construct its submarine from the then standard US Navy
submarine steel, known as HY80. The characteristics of this steel
were well understood and because it was in wide use there were
established qualification tests and well-known standards of per-
formance for the material. However, the German consortium was
seeking a $5 million royalty for use of this steel.
Kockums’ proposal was radically different. It involved the
use of steel with a 25 per cent higher yield (greater resistance)
stress than the more conventional HY80, which was achieved by
a novel alloy formulation producing a ‘high-strength low-alloy’
steel. Therefore the new steel offered a considerable weight sav-
ing because of its greater strength and promised to be much easier
to weld, offering cost and schedule advantages.
There was some industry resistance to using such a steel with
an unproven history. The recently developed American equivalent,
known as HY100 (stronger than HY80) was not pursued for
submarine construction because of difficult welding characteris-
tics and shortcomings in explosion bulge testing.
However, the greatest problem with Kockums’ steel was that
it had been developed in Sweden, whose testing procedures and
quality standards were different to NATO standards. The project
office had little knowledge with which to develop acceptable per-
formance guidelines and needed expert assistance.
John Ritter and his team accepted that controlling risk meant
complex and expensive approaches would be unacceptable. The
Maribyrnong laboratory was a pioneer in the emerging field of
fracture mechanics – one yet to mature and involving a complex
and expensive testing regime. Ritter decided that both the safety
of the submarine and the costs of its construction would be better
served through the proven explosion bulge test regime with its
straightforward subsidiary tests that were industrial standards.
Ritter says: ‘We opted for industrial reality and minimum risk
instead of scientific adventure.’
An important feature of DSTO has always been the degree of
interdisciplinary cooperation that can be focused on a problem,
and this was particularly needed as the organisation was promis-

ing to undertake some fundamental research on an unknown
steel and welding technology with little more than a year
before the successful bidder for the new submarine was to be
decided.
Ritter had crucial support in Australian industry. Dr Jim
Williams, with his research team at BHP Wollongong, and his
counterpart, Dr John Kroll of Bisalloy Industrial Steels, had an
international reputation for research into and production of high-
strength low-alloy steels. Traditional submarine steels included
expensive alloys that provided exceptional strength but made the
plate difficult to weld. BHP micro-alloy steel gave similar perfor-
mance but needed no special pre-treatment for welding. Ritter’s
group formed an alliance with them, and with Kockums’ weld-
ing engineer Dr Kenneth Håkansson, to investigate the Swedish
steel. The outcome required was a qualification and testing regime
covering all materials supplied, all welding processes, and all con-
struction hall welding procedures to reassure the navy that the
submarines would be safe.
The assignment started with a bang. At the end of August
1986, the first bulge test was conducted in an abandoned quarry
at Cooma, New South Wales. The sample of BHP/Bisalloy plate,
made to Swedish specifications, shattered into hundreds of pieces
and blasted metal shards around the surrounding bushland.
An air-freighted sample of Swedish plate failed as dramatically.
Sweden was one of the few countries to subject its submarines
to explosive shock testing in the water, but it did not carry out
explosive testing of the construction steel before the submarine
was built. A quantum improvement in explosion crack resistance
was needed urgently.
Shards of the failed plate were taken to BHP’s Port Kembla lab-
oratory, where microscopic examination revealed that their chem-
ical composition was too lean in the critical alloying elements.
Discussions with the Swedish steelmaker SSAB revealed that they
had four experimental samples of an enhanced high-strength low-
alloy steel that might do the job, and four plates were promptly dis-
patched to Australia. At the Cooma quarry three plates performed
poorly, but the fourth was brilliant. Examination back at John
Williams’ laboratory showed that the failed plates had too great
a concentration of the four alloys in their composition, creating
Explosion bulge testing
clouds of tiny clusters dispersed throughout the metal that could

reduce cracking resistance under impact.
The fourth sample provided the correct chemistry. Further
laboratory testing allowed BHP to refine the alloy composition,
and Bisalloy to standardise production processes. The product’s
quality now could be verified by manufacturer and users. The
Explosion bulge testing (cont.)
result easily passed the explosion bulge test. In submarine con-

struction, its consistent quality and ease of welding in comparison
with the HY series was critical for the successful construction of
Collins class hulls.
Ritter and his colleagues also worked to establish the welding
technology – the metallurgy, the qualifying and testing regime,

1 The first Project Director, Captain Graham White. (Photograph courtesy of
Graham White.)
2 ASC negotiation team of the day, Canberra, January 1987. Front row from right:
Roger Sprimont, Bo Bennell, Pelle Stenberg, Olle Holmdahl. Gunnar Ohland third
from the left. (Photograph courtesy of Pelle Stenberg.)
3 Contract signature day for the Collins project: (l-r) Rear Admiral Oscar Hughes,
Geoff Davis, Fred Bennett, Kim Beazley, Roger Sprimont. (Photograph courtesy of
RAN.)
4 Singer Librascope staff, including Bill Hudson (centre) and Arnold Peters
(second right), with Oscar Hughes (second left) and Rick Neilson (right) at Singer
Librascope in Glendale, California. (Photograph courtesy of Defence Materiel
Organisation archives)
5 From left: Pär Bunke, Ian Nicholson (Australian Ambassador to Sweden), Paul
Pålsson, Rick Canham and Kurt Jönsson (Kockums’ construction and outfitting
manager) in front of a Västergötland class submarine at Kockums’ yards in Malmö.
(Photograph courtesy of Defence Materiel Organisation archives)
6 Stiffening frames being lowered into a hull can before welding. (Photograph
courtesy of ASC Pty Ltd.)
7 Hull section or ‘can’ being welded. ASC welders achieved world-class results,
with a remarkably low number of faults and very accurate circularity, a critical
factor in hull strength. (Photograph courtesy of ASC Pty Ltd.)
8 Central section of submarine under construction at ASC. Control room viewed
from aft. (Photograph courtesy of ASC Pty Ltd.)
9 Equipment platform being inserted into the control room section. All major
pieces of equipment and wiring have been already been installed. (Photograph
courtesy of ASC Pty Ltd.)
10 Submarine under construction at ASC, with hatch in the bow over cylindrical
array removed for access. (Photograph courtesy of ASC Pty Ltd.)
11 The engine room team of marine technicians and engineering officer from
HMAS Collins at the start of sea trials, 31 October 1994. Front l-r: Anthony ‘Dog’
Masters, Paul ‘Bulkhead’ Newman, Troy Battishall; 2nd Row l-r: CPO Phil Ivins
(DMEO), Mark ‘Artie’ Beetson, Jim Taaffe, Marcos Alfonso (MEO), George ‘Eugene’
Lakey, Lindsay Hinch, Sammy Brennan, Gary ‘Chook’ Fowler; Back right-hand side:
Andrew ‘Birdman’ Ravenscroft. (Photograph courtesy of Marcos Alfonso.)
12 L-r: Hans Ohff, Rear Admiral Peter Purcell, Captain Paul Greenfield, Olle
Holmdahl, Commodore Geoff Rose, Captain Kit Carson, Commander Peter Sinclair.
(Photograph courtesy of Peter Sinclair.)
13 Kim Beazley and Commander Peter Sinclair at HMAS Collins periscope. (Photograph courtesy of Peter Sinclair.)
14 Rear Admiral Peter Briggs and Commander Peter Sinclair. (Photograph
courtesy of Peter Sinclair.)
15 General John Baker, Chief of Defence Force, standing left, and Ian McLachlan,
Minister for Defence, right, at sea on a Collins, looking over the shoulder of a
combat system operator. (Photograph courtesy of RAN.)
16 Farncomb at sea, 1997. Far left: Bronwyn Bishop, Minister for Defence Support;
second right: Hans Ohff. (Photograph courtesy of RAN.)
17 A Mark 48 torpedo fired from over the horizon by HMAS Farncomb hits the
ex-HMAS Torrens off the WA coast 14 June 1999. (Photograph courtesy of RAN.)
18 HMAS Farncomb arrives at Fleet Base West from an operational deployment
with a broom and Jolly Roger flying – traditional symbols of success. (Photograph
courtesy of RAN.)
19 A Leading Seaman Marine Technician checks one of the Hedemora diesel

engines. (Photograph courtesy RAN.)
20 RAN acoustic warfare analysts undergoing training in a shore simulator at Fleet
Base West. (Photograph courtesy RAN.)
21 A combat system operator at work on a Collins class Submarine. (Photograph

courtesy RAN.)
22 HMAS Sheean undertakes a helicopter transfer with an RAN Seahawk aircraft.
(Photograph courtesy RAN.)
23 HMAS Sheean sails from Fleet Base West, radar mast raised. (Photograph
courtesy RAN.)
24 HMAS Collins with communications, periscope and snort induction masts
raised. (Photograph courtesy RAN.)
25 HMAS Rankin embarks a practice Mk 48 torpedo at Fleet Base West.

(Photograph courtesy RAN.)
26 HMAS Waller prepares for a helicopter transfer. (Photograph courtesy RAN.)
27 Submarine Escape and Rescue Centre at Fleet Base West, Commodore Rick
Shalders explains escape training to the Chief of the Malaysian Navy. Building in
Australia also meant building training infrastructure. (Photograph courtesy RAN.)
28 Commander Andy Keogh, the Commanding Officer of HMAS Sheean, and

Governor-General Major General Michael Jeffery AC CVO MC with the Gloucester
cup for 2005, awarded to the best ship in the RAN. (Photograph courtesy RAN.)
and the guidance that would overlay the welding processes and
equipment chosen by Kockums for the exacting task of submarine
building. The key processes were manual metal arc (conventional
stick welding) and the automated process of submerged arc weld-
ing, in which a machine feeds welding wire and pours a layer of
granulated flux that ‘submerges’ the intense arc glare to protect

the molten metal from atmospheric contamination. The guiding
principle was that the welding must remain practical in an indus-
trial environment.
An unexpected bonus of researching a novel alloy was that
companies from around the world were willing to provide the
latest equipment and consumables – stick electrodes and welding
wires plus granular flux – for trials on the Australian steel. As
Ritter observed, his research gave them ‘a “free” test house of
the highest international reputation, for their latest experimental
products’. Working with the ASC welding engineer, John Taylor,
the DSTO evaluation team found that only one source in America
provided suitable electrodes, one factory the granulated flux, and
one brand the wire that met the project’s requirements.
Ritter’s team also contributed to the development of the weld-
ing metallurgy by overturning an internationally accepted norm.
Conventionally, the deposited weld metal in the joint was of a
greater strength than that of the surrounding plate because it
seemed to make for a safer construction. Work following this
approach was nearly always destroyed by Ritter’s bulge tests. Bet-
ter results were obtained by having the weld metal of compara-
tively lesser strength. Furthermore, in Bob Phillips’ work on hull
penetrations, the lower strength (HY80) forged steel welded to
hull steel only ever passed the bulge test with lesser strength welds.
With a few days to spare before the deadline for pre-tender
development expired, DSTO had provided the project with a high-
performance, locally-produced steel, verified those off-the-shelf
welding products that would meet the construction requirements
and provided welding procedures for ASC to use in the construc-
tion of the submarine. Ritter’s team went on to extend the range
of materials and welding techniques and products certified for use
on the submarine. A regime for qualifying as safe every item in
the submarines’ pressure hulls was established.
With the product proven, DSTO could now develop criteria for
managing materials during the submarine production cycle. The
understanding built on the original work had to be transferred to
the everyday tasks of steelmaking, materials acceptance, welding
procedure qualification and non-destructive inspection.
Steel mills and submarine builders seldom set about blowing
up samples of their output. The data from the explosion bulge
tests had to be reformulated in a way that could be transferred to

contractual specifications for steel and welding and could be vali-
dated by accepted industrial tests, namely the tensile and Charpy
impact tests. Neither much resembles an explosion bulge test. The
Charpy test, for instance, uses small, notched test pieces one-fifth
of the thickness of the bulge test plate and subjects them to an
impact of only one-thousandth of the explosion.
For ‘shop floor’ testing, Ritter’s team had to develop criteria
that matched the performance they had observed against explo-
sives. They ran a parallel series of laboratory testing including
dynamic teardrop-weight and fracture toughness tests to provide
an independent scientific validation, and Ritter synthesised all the
test information into what he called ‘mechanical property maps’
that allowed a reliable interpretation of the industrial level tests.
It was reassuring that DSTO’s work indicated that quality con-
trol of work with high-strength low-alloy steel largely fell within
recognised industry norms.
The same process of industrial standardisation had to be
achieved for the welding. At the time Ritter was well aware that
the inability to control transverse cracking had led to the rejec-
tion of two-thirds of the initial welds on the USS Seawolf. Yet with
Bisalloy’s novel high-strength low-alloy steel there was a greater
risk of transverse cracking in the weld metal than in conventional
materials and the problem was little understood. The DSTO team
was again breaking new ground.
Brian Dixon compiled a ‘welding acceptability map’ similar
to the steel testing guide, and it was found that the technique
of using a large number of small ‘stringer bead’ runs of weld-
ing material could produce a join of adequate toughness. Given
the thickness of the submarine plate the technique required up
to 50 runs. Nonetheless, the final beads on the surface provided
inherently brittle zones under explosive loading. Dixon devised a
procedure for capping the surface of the weld joint that became
known as a ‘top-hat’ weld profile. Even under severe explosion,
such specimens suffered only limited surface cracking along the
weld edges, rather than complete fracture.
With the development of tested procedures and an empha-
sis on high-quality workmanship, Ritter’s team gave Australian
industry usable and economic access to advanced materials tech-
nology. Using automated ultrasonic testing technology sourced
from the Forces Institute of Denmark, and in cooperation with

ASC and Kockums, the DSTO team developed methods of non-
destructive weld inspection. There was a substantial change-over
from radiographic to ultrasonic weld inspection that led the way in
Australian industrial practice. Throughout the submarine building
program at ASC, the number of faulty welds needing to be redone
was around one tenth of the average in world submarine construc-
tion. Over time, methods of ultrasonic inspection were improved
and when earlier work was checked, no undetected cracking was
found.
During 1986 DSTO became involved in assessing the equip-
ment required for the new submarines. The Oberons’ upgrade
provided experience of modern configurations for passive sonar
receivers but the performance and potential of these new sensors
was still not clear. David Wyllie was involved, along with many
others, in studying the options for the new submarine’s sonar sys-
tem, a process that helped shape the sonar and combat systems.
Flank array sonar provides data in the low-frequency
spectrum for detection and other functions and is designed as
a long-range noise sensor. Distributed array sonar operates in a
higher frequency range and does a similar job to the flank array
but also provides range and bearing at torpedo range. The cylin-
drical array sitting in the bow works at frequencies that overlap
the others but goes to the higher spectrum to achieve fire control
solutions and provide weapon guidance. Experiments using towed
arrays for passive long-range detections were also conducted from
the Oberons.
The RAN laboratories tested the performance of the flank array
sonar on the upgraded Oberons and found that it was only at its
most effective for the short time that the submarine could maintain
itself in an ultra-quiet state, but significant improvements could be
achieved with the use of advanced signal processing techniques.
DSTO sought to find out how the newer systems proposed for the
next submarine would behave, but it remained concerned about
the performance of flank array systems. In contrast, the Oberons’
distributed array appeared to work well regardless of how the
boat was operating.
The DSTO study suggested maximising this potential by dis-
pensing with the flank array, adding a towed array sonar, minimis-
ing the size of the cylindrical array and transferring the weight
savings to a more powerful distributed array system. In overall

performance, throughout the arc of coverage and over impor-
tant frequencies, this would give the new submarine a better
performance than that achieved by the Oberons. Although it was
unwilling to give up the flank array as a back-up, the navy sup-
ported DSTO’s conclusions and the senior navy command was
anxious to have these requirements included in the negotiations
for the contract.3
Optimising the performance of the distributed array would
mean lengthening the after casing and raising its sides closer to
the perpendicular, although it was recognised that this would have
effects on the pattern of water flow around the hull. In any event,
the after casing would need to be raised to accommodate the drum
and winch for the towed array. The DSTO study promised to
provide the new submarine with improvements in the ability to
handle and analyse acoustic data but also set in train processes
that would lead to one of the most serious problems that was to
face the Collins class – unexpected and excessive hydrodynamic
noise.
A chemistry PhD working at Maribyrnong, David Oldfield had
developed barnacle-repellent rubbers and solved major difficulties
with the Mulloka sonar system before the navy approached him
in 1980 to ask what he knew about anechoic tiles.4
At that time the practice of covering submarines with rub-
berised tiles was one of the most closely guarded secrets of the US
and Royal navies as it reduced the risk of their strategic nuclear
missile submarines being detected. Nonetheless, it was impossible
to keep the existence of the tiles a secret, as they regularly fell off
and submarines could be spotted with the gaps in their surface
clearly visible. Neither Britain nor America would share the tech-
nology and the usefulness of their tiles was questionable as the
characteristics of the temperate waters around Australia differed
from the cold waters of the far northern hemisphere.
Oldfield started from scratch by searching the literature, and
recovered a report on a German Second World War project,
code-named Albericht, that had experimented with triplex rub-
ber tiles.5 He was then able to trial some thin tiles on the cas-
ings of Oberon class submarines and was pleased they stayed
on. Oldfield’s laboratory had researched the fundamentals of
bonding and concluded that any bond is only as good as
the interface. That is, the specific preparation of the surface

of the steel and of the rubber to be bonded to it determines whether
the two will stay together. It is usually corrosion of the metal
surface and water absorption at the adhesive interface that cause
tiles to fall off.
Oldfield asked David Wyllie, who was in America, to enquire
about US anechoic technology, but ‘the Americans refused point
blank’. As was to be the case on several issues in the future, the
US Navy was very protective of its specialised submarine tech-
nologies. Oldfield had no further contact with the United States
until the late 1990s, when the Americans became involved in the
Collins noise reduction effort and were interested in the Australian
technologies that had allowed the tiles to succeed.
By 1984 the navy had initiated a formal tasking to develop ane-
choic tiles, so Oldfield built a laboratory to measure the degree of
amplitude reduction achieved with various types of materials. He
mapped a close correspondence between the chemical properties
of rubber elastomers and their performance in absorbing sound
energy, but in the end Oldfield’s research reinforced his belief in
serendipity. He had found the most useful option for tile forma-
tion early in his research, but had thereafter studied the approach
of other countries in anechoic research. After trying out the ideas
of others he came back to where he had started. All this was done
in a Melbourne laboratory before the widespread application of
computer-aided techniques.
Although Oldfield was close to finalising the development of
his tiles, the navy had still not agreed it needed them. Kockums and
HDW/IKL were asked to provide information on fitting anechoic
protection to their designs but this was not assessed during the
evaluation. However, by early 1987 Admiral Hudson, head of the
navy, considered that the operational requirement for anechoic
protection had outpaced the ‘limited demands originally defined
in the RSC’.6 He directed that the design development of the new
submarine should allow for an additional weight margin initially
of up to 40 tonnes to fit tiles, and that the costs should be borne
by the project.
Oldfield, having determined the most appropriate compound,
designed moulds that allowed the tiles to be produced to fit
the shape of the submarine. A company in Mordialloc that had
already been selected by ASC to produce rubber mountings for
various types of equipment was selected to produce the tiles. ASC

calculated the area and number of tiles, and it was found that
the shrinkage that occurred after moulding could be handled by
caulking between the tiles with the adhesive.
The epoxy adhesive used to attach the tiles was purchased
commercially from Ciba-Geigy, with no specific developmental
work required. It was simply a commercial building adhesive sold
mainly to stick cats-eyes on roads. The product was found by
chance but worked well. Again, serendipity was at work.
Oldfield investigated various paint systems to identify a high-
performance interface to provide the perfect bond between the
hull and tiles, and found that the abrasion-resistant epoxy primer
already used as the first, anti-corrosion coat on the Collins sub-
marines was the best surface for bonding. With the surface clad
in anechoic tiles, it was no longer necessary to apply a topcoat
of paint. Instead, anti-fouling paint – to retard the growth of
marine organisms on the hull – was applied directly to the rubber.
Oldfield’s colleague, John Lewis, did the research to show that a
new silica-based anti-fouling paint could be applied over rubber
without the risk that the surface would crack.
The industrial processes developed to apply the tiles were
equally simple. The adhesive mixture was prepared by hand and
the tiles applied manually and ‘grouted’ with the same adhesive,
in what was one of the few craft applications in the submarines’
construction. The sophistication lay elsewhere. Tiles were held
in place with a system of jigs designed by ASC with DSTO assis-
tance, during a project that stretched for six months. Such was the
precision with which they had been designed that the tiles were
applied to the hull sections before they were welded together. The
gap where the sections were joined was then filled with the preci-
sion of a jigsaw.
In 1991 Oldfield received the Minister’s award for ‘research
into anechoic materials for the Australian Collins class submarine
hull’. Ironically, permission to fit tiles still had not been granted
and Collins was launched without them. Money was eventually
found within the contract contingency, the polite name for Oscar
Hughes’ ‘slush fund’. Consequently, Oldfield saw his research bear
fruit with the launch of the first tiled submarine, Farncomb; under
its anti-fouling coating the boat looked no different from Collins.
He regards the success of the anechoic tile project as part of a team
effort, owing much to engineering development by ASC and its

willingness to proceed and invest money even though the official
status of the project remained clouded. Oldfield worked at a time
when the project was driven by optimism and he thought ASC
displayed fresh thinking that seemed to be an outcome of the
company’s establishment as a ‘greenfields’ site, unencumbered by
tradition. For his part, David Oldfield’s research, independent and
equally unencumbered by convention, matched anything of its
type produced by the world’s superpowers. He was relieved to
hear in March 2007 that not a single tile had been lost from any
of the submarines up to that time.
CHAPTER 16
‘On time and on budget’
The four companies that made up the Australian Submarine Cor-

poration consortium brought complementary skills to the new
submarine project. They also brought conflicting cultures and atti-
tudes. In the early days of the project the complementary skills
proved invaluable, but within a short time conflicts began and by
1989 the consortium began to fall apart.1
The fundamental clash was between Kockums and Chicago
Bridge & Iron, with Wormald playing the role of peacemaker and
AIDC being a bemused and silent onlooker. While there is general
agreement at Kockums that CBI played a vital role in the early
years of the project, the two companies approached the project
with a starkly different attitude. Kockums from the start was look-
ing at developing a long-term relationship with the Australian
navy such as it had with the Swedish navy. CBI as a large engi-
neering contractor was used to setting up a project, completing
it quickly and efficiently and moving on. Ross Milton illustrated
the clash with the companies’ differing approaches to problem
solving:
181
The Americans – their problem solving technique could be

characterised as coming at the problem with a baseball bat,
they confront problems. On the other hand the Swedes don’t
do that – they try to surround a problem and love it to death.
If you look at those extremes it almost creates national
incompatibilities.
In 1988 CBI decided that it wanted to either increase its share-

holding in ASC or sell out and leave the consortium. Its offer to
buy more shares was not accepted by the other partners, so it was
inclined towards leaving.
By late 1988 Malcolm McIntosh, the deputy secretary in charge
of capital procurements in the Department of Defence, decided
that CBI’s influence was becoming harmful. He reported to Kim
Beazley that CBI was always looking to minimise its liability and
had pushed ASC ‘to resile from some of its obligations under
the contract’. He believed that CBI was driving ASC ‘towards an
attitude that the Commonwealth should be exploited for the last
dollar of profit, without much regard for performance in terms of
the design and delivery of the submarine’. McIntosh alleged that
CBI had no long-term commitment but was motivated to ‘recover
costs, collect profits and then get out of the submarine business’.
He concluded that the other shareholders and Oscar Hughes, the
project director, ‘believed the project would benefit if CBI were to
dispose of their shareholding’.2
Oscar Hughes was already feeling ambivalent towards CBI
when he went to Chicago to call on the company’s president,
John Jones. Jones kept Hughes waiting and as he sat he read in
CBI’s latest report that the company had about 20 law suits taking
place around the world and was confident of success in all of them.
Hughes was convinced CBI had to be removed from ASC’s share
register.
By March 1990 CBI had sold its 20 per cent shareholding, with
Kockums and AIDC each buying half of the shares. CBI sought a
bonus on the share price, but Paul-E Pålsson of Kockums states
that it received only what it had put in. It kept its sub-contracts,
including the major one for hull fabrication, and its influence on
the company remained strong, particularly the philosophy that
‘changes cost – that’s where we make our money’.
‘ON TIME AND ON BUDGET’ 183
Within a few months of CBI’s departure, Wormald also sold its

shareholding, though under very different circumstances. During
the 1970s and 1980s Wormald had been one of Australia’s most
successful multinational companies, with operations in more than
70 countries and two-thirds of its earnings coming from overseas.
In the late 1980s it attracted the attention of the ‘entrepreneurs’
(the private equity barbarians of the era), who used borrowed
money to take over successful companies and then displayed their
managerial ineptitude by destroying them. Alan Bond was the first
to take a tilt at Wormald, followed by Ming Tee Lee and finally by
the Reil Corporation, the creature of three young ‘entrepreneurs’,
one of whom, Bob Mansfield, played a prominent role in a failed
private equity bid for Qantas in early 2007.
Wormald lost most of its senior management and the new
board had no knowledge of the business. They walked away from
$600 million of orders on the submarine project, keeping only the
ship management system and fire control contracts. Wormald had
owned Kelly & Lewis pumps, Australian Fibre Optic Research,
Johns Valve and Richards Valves, all of which had submarine con-
tracts, but they all went in the fire sale.
Reil Corporation had borrowed heavily to fund the takeover
and defaulted when interest rates soared in the late 1980s.
Wormald was broken-up and its electronics research laboratories,
among the most advanced in Australia, were closed. In June 1990
Wormald sold its 25 per cent share in ASC, with Kockums and
AIDC again buying half each. Wormald had originally put $2.5
million of equity into ASC, and sold its shares for $28 million.3
The takeover destroyed a great Australian company and had
serious consequences for the submarine project. Wormald had
worked closely with Kockums and provided invaluable assistance
in doing business in Australia. The loss of this Australian touch
was serious, but probably even more serious was the loss of the
leadership provided by Geoff Davis. Commercially astute and
yet totally dedicated to the submarine project, he provided the
commercial partners in the project with drive and leadership to
complement that of Oscar Hughes.
With CBI and Wormald gone, Kockums was left as the major-
ity shareholder with 52.5 per cent, while AIDC held 47.5 per
cent. Government policy was for majority Australian ownership
of ASC, but it did not want this held by the Commonwealth. Con-
sequently, in December 1990 Kockums, somewhat unwillingly,
sold a 2.5 per cent holding to James Hardie Industries, a major
Australian industrial company, and in early 1992, following fur-
ther government pressure, it sold a further one per cent to AIDC.
James Hardie was never anything more than a passive investor
whose sole role was to maintain majority Australian ownership.
Kockums’ background of working very closely with the
Swedish navy and procurement organisation produced a corpo-
rate culture where it was ‘not interested in being the tallest pole
in the tent’.4 Even when Kockums became the majority share-
holder in ASC, there was a widespread perception (shared by many
Kockums personnel) that it was not willing or able to accept the
responsibility and challenges this involved.
The first significant dispute between ASC and the project office
was over issues with insurance left unresolved from the contract
negotiations. These had concluded that ASC should take out com-
mercial insurance, but the price of this became an issue. It had also
been agreed to divide risk between dry (in the yard, ASC’s risk)
and wet (at sea, Commonwealth risk), but even in the latter case
ASC retained liability for faulty design or workmanship.
Ron McLaren, now Oscar Hughes’ financial manager, felt ASC
was trying to use insurance as protection against the risks of the
project and push this cost onto the Commonwealth through the
premium. Oscar Hughes considered the cost of the ‘all risk’ com-
mercial insurance unacceptable as ‘it would kill my project’. He
recalls beginning the insurance negotiations soon after signing
the contract: ‘No sooner had we started than one of the Dutch
Walruses caught fire while it was being built and a Japanese sub-
marine rammed a ferry while on its sea trials with great loss of
life – it was not a good start to insurance discussions.’
ASC negotiated a cover with Lloyds for everything includ-
ing faulty design and workmanship, but for a price of about
$20 million per submarine. This was agreed with the Common-
wealth in a settlement in December 1988, to cover the dry risk for
the first boat, but was too costly for a general settlement. Hughes
insisted on separate quotes for dry risk and wet risk and ASC
was as insistent that the Commonwealth bear the full insurance
cost. It took four years of negotiation and litigation to resolve the
issue. Wet and dry risks were separated and the cost reduced to
the original ceiling of about $75 million. Pär Bunke, the commer-
cial manager of ASC, saw the insurance issue as one of the biggest
problems the project faced in its early years, and it inevitably
affected the overall relationship.
The insurance issue had a further unexpected resonance. One
major criticism of the project was that ASC was paid too much
too soon, allowing the company to pay excessive early dividends
retain while retaining insufficient money to fix the defects found
in the submarines in the later 1990s. This criticism was made in an
Auditor-General’s report in 1992 and is a view almost universally
held within the navy. They argue that for a fixed price contract
with a high degree of risk, dividends should have been paid only
after the submarines were at sea, because: ‘As it was when they
found things didn’t work like they should there was no money left
to fix them and this led to bitterness toward Kockums and ASC.’5
Most former executives of ASC and its shareholders agree
that the contract provided for ample early payments, with over
75 per cent of total payments received before the launch of the
first submarine. Geoff Davis saw the contract as generous, with
ASC making good profits and paying substantial dividends to its
shareholders. About six months after winning the contract, Davis,
as chairman of ASC, recommended to the board that $4 million be
distributed to the shareholders – ‘we were not there to play games
but had to maintain the financial performance of our businesses’.
Pär Bunke agrees that hindsight suggests ASC should have kept
more money in reserve, but points out that the company had no
further contracts and there was a strong feeling there was no pur-
pose in retaining money in the company. He emphasises that until
1993 ASC believed it was covered by its insurance policy for
faulty design and workmanship, so there was no need to keep
large amounts of money in reserve.
For Kockums the Australian submarine project restored finan-
cial health to a struggling company, so much so that 1990 was the
most profitable year in the company’s 140-year history.6 How-
ever, Kockums was not able to invest these profits into its subma-
rine business, as most of the money was funnelled into the parent
company, Celsius, which used it to buy moribund Swedish defence
companies.
Oscar Hughes was criticised in the Auditor-General’s report
for paying ASC too much before the program was sufficiently
advanced, and he agrees that ASC probably paid dividends that

were too high in relation to the risks taken to that stage. How-
ever, he thinks the audit report showed little understanding of
commercial realities:
It is important to get back to basics. Any purchase of any
item (that is not paid for in full up front) needs a deposit
covering the whole order. In the end you pay one way or
another for the product you get. . . . it is not unreasonable to
take into account that ASC will be placing orders for
materials for six submarines – there was a huge upfront cost
to get hundreds of companies around the world to start
producing things for the project. On the basis of the size of
the contract, it was not unreasonable to make large early
payments to get the thing going, otherwise the contractor
would have had to borrow working capital and the interest
on this would have been an extra cost to the purchaser.
. . . If the contractor is not to receive any profits until the
end of the project, this will be reflected in the price of the
submarines. If after the first two or three years you’ve spent
70 per cent of your money and yet you do not get paid for
many years till final delivery, the profit margin would be
much less and the pricing of the project would differ greatly.
The contractor would have charged more if profits had been
delayed . . . it would have been an illusion to keep money
from ASC.
In May 1987 ASC had signed a contract setting down the

price for delivering six submarines and a schedule for payments.
If the Commonwealth had insisted on later or lower payments,
ASC would probably have walked away from the negotiations.
The consortium partners realised it was a high-risk development
project and, given that the Commonwealth insisted on a fixed
price contract with only a small contingency, it is hard to see that
they would have accepted lower payments for the critical early
phase of setting up the project.
Oscar Hughes points out that ASC retained substantial cash
reserves in spite of its shareholder dividends. This actually led
to one of the first instances of bad publicity for the project, when
ASC used some of its cash reserves to buy a Boeing 747 which was
leased to Qantas. This was presented in the press as an example
of waste and extravagance, although it was a safe, high return

investment for reserved capital.7
There were two further aspects ignored by the company’s crit-
ics. Firstly, ASC had a lengthy dispute with the Australian Taxa-
tion Office, with the tax office insisting that the profits must be
distributed or incur heavy tax. Secondly, at all stages the Com-
monwealth government through AIDC was a major shareholder
in ASC and at no stage did it oppose the payment of dividends –
on the contrary it appears that AIDC always voted in favour of
them.8
Pär Bunke believes ASC’s early profits were due as much to
luck as to good management, as the Australian dollar appreciated
at a time of high interest rates in the late 1980s and early 1990s.
At the start of the project the objective of doing 70 per cent of the
work in Australia seemed difficult but the revaluation meant that
the 70 per cent of payments made in Australian dollars were worth
much more than had been anticipated at the start of the project.
This made it much easier for the project to achieve the required
Australian content. Conversely, payments in foreign currency were
far less than had been anticipated.
The Australian government had agreed that ASC and its sub-
contractors could keep the interest on advance payments and the
high interest rates of the era made this a useful source of income,
particularly as the rise in the dollar meant that there was substan-
tially more spare cash than had been anticipated.
Pär Bunke says that the project was always financially strong
and the Commonwealth’s expenditure on the submarines, after
allowing for inflation, was well within the original parameters as
the launch of the first submarine approached. It is so rare for the
projected cost of a defence project to bear any resemblance to the
final cost that it seems extraordinary that this was not commented
on at the time. The only explanation would appear to be an inabil-
ity to understand the impact of inflation. Thus, at June 1986 prices
the cost of the project was to be $3.892 billion; by December 1993
the estimated cost was $4.989 million – an increase of about 28 per
cent, which was less than the rate of inflation over that period.9
After six years the project was on budget. Was it also on sched-
ule? In Kim Beazley’s press release announcing that ASC had been
awarded the new submarine contract, the proposed schedule had
the first submarine being launched in 1994, with the remaining
five submarines following over the next five years, to see the final
submarine in the water in 1999. Fairly early on in the project
this was revised to have the first launch in 1993 and, after several
minor revisions, the launch was set for 23 August 1993.
The project’s quarterly reports in the early 1990s have a strong
focus on the schedule. Thus, in June 1990 it was reported that
the project was ‘generally on cost and schedule’ but there were
some ‘pressure points’, notably Kockums’ design and fabrication
activity was behind, ASC’s procurement activity was behind, and
the insurance for the last five submarines had not been agreed.
Nonetheless it was believed that these would not delay the launch
of the first submarine. By September 1990 Collins was 38 per
cent completed, which implied a ‘seven month slippage against the
original plan and three months against the current plan’. However,
after this time the ‘slippage’ gradually reduced as ASC put more
resources into Collins, although this had consequences for the later
submarines. In March 1992 ‘significant pressures’ still remained
on the production schedule for Collins, but the launch had been
set for 23 August 1993, which happened to be Don Williams’
birthday. Coincidence or not, it is widely believed that the launch
was rushed to make sure it happened on this anniversary.
Pär Bunke recalls that ASC had graphs on the production of
each submarine, showing how it was going against the schedule
and the work that still needed to be done. By 1992 the graph for
the first submarine was nearly vertical, showing that it could not
be ready on time, and because of the delays in the first submarine
the graphs were growing steeper for the later boats.
In hindsight, most involved with the project think that the
schedule was always over-ambitious for a massive development
project. Ross Milton points out that the sheer complexity of
the project, with about half a million often unique items to be
designed, procured and installed in each submarine, meant that
any delay in any part of the production process had a ripple effect
on the whole project.
Despite the pressures Don Williams and Oscar Hughes insisted
that Collins must be launched as scheduled – the band was booked,
the caterers had their orders and the Prime Minister was rehearsing
his speech.
But more seriously, Hughes saw maintaining the schedule as
critical for the success of the project. He believed that: ‘Once you
take your eyes off the schedule you never get back in control –
launching the boat and keeping to the time scale helped to focus
people’s minds. Once you let an eel go, you can never grasp it
again!’10
While attention in the early years was focused almost entirely
on the progress of Collins, construction of all the other submarines
had begun according to schedule. However, as the schedule for
the launch of Collins became tighter, work on the other sub-
marines suffered. As early as the spring of 1991, section 100 of
Farncomb was sent to Newcastle for completion to free up space
and resources at ASC, and over the next few years the attention
of ASC and the project office was far more on Collins than on the
later submarines.
On 23 August 1993 a crowd of 4500 saw the launch of HMAS
Collins. Several dignitaries spoke, but the only words anyone
recalls are those of Don Williams: ‘We’ve launched on time and
on budget, so put that in your pipe and smoke it.’
PART 3
‘A STRANGE SENSE
OF UNEASE’ 1993–98
CHAPTER 17
End of the honeymoon
The launch of Collins was an impressive ceremony and the many

attending dignitaries all appeared suitably awestruck by its size
and complexity. But all was not what it seemed. The focus at ASC
and the project office was on meeting the launch date, but the
design was not completed, pipe fabrication in key areas was not
finished, and some of the ‘steel plates’ were just timber painted
black. The photographs looked good, but the submarine was far
from ready for launching.1
Two weeks after the launch, Collins was lifted out of the water
for more than 10 months while construction work carried on. By
June 1994 the work was almost completed but the submarine was
now well behind schedule. The project office’s quarterly report
explained that:
A number of factors have contributed to the schedule

slippage including late completion of submarine design and
the consequent less than optimum level of completion of
Collins at launch, delays in the delivery of combat system
software, difficulties in the final installation and setting to
work . . . and industrial disputes.
193
While Collins sat somewhat forlornly on the hard stand at

ASC, it seemed that the activity in the boardroom was more fre-
netic than in the shipyard. By the time Collins returned to the
water there had been great changes in the leadership of both ASC
and the project office.2
The period from the signing of the contract to the launch
of Collins was ‘the Don and Oscar show’, being dominated by
the personalities of Don Williams and Oscar Hughes. Hughes
reached retirement age in 1992, but his appointment was extended
for another year until the launch. Hughes intimated that he
would like to stay until Collins entered service, but he thinks
there was a fear that he was becoming something of an Admi-
ral Rickover, ‘who just stays on and on’, so there were no further
extensions.3
The new project director was Commodore Geoff Rose, an
experienced submarine engineer. In early 1986, as a newly pro-
moted captain and director of submarine maintenance and repair,
he was just settling into the job when he was posted to the new
submarine project to take over from Graham White as project
manager. He ‘really didn’t wish to be part of it’, but orders are
orders and in June 1986 Geoff Rose found himself at the project
headquarters in Fyshwick. He was project manager for five years,
then had a year in North America before being promoted to com-
modore and posted back to the submarine project.
Straightforward and determined, Rose did not have the politi-
cal skills or subtlety of his predecessor. This was compounded by
the reduced power of the project director, symbolised by the down-
grading from a two-star to one-star position. Whereas Hughes
had great political clout and knowledge of the system, Rose did
not have access to the same people and was more reliant on oth-
ers in the navy hierarchy whose primary interest may not always
have been the success of the submarine project. Andy Millar, the
project’s long-serving executive officer, summarised the change:
‘Geoff Rose’s problem was that he was too nice – this was not
something that had concerned Oscar Hughes.’
Before Geoff Rose had settled into his new job, the other half
of the ‘Don and Oscar show’ abruptly left the project. For several
years Don Williams’ relations with Kockums had been deteriorat-
ing, primarily because the Swedes felt that he ignored the interests
of shareholders and was placing the company at risk by not hold-
ing Rockwell to account for failure to deliver the combat system.
END OF THE HONEYMOON 195
In 1993 he also lost the support of AIDC, which was becoming

more involved in its investment in ASC under the influence of Peter
Horobin, who was very active in plans for AIDC to promote ASC
as a major force in Australia’s defence industries.
Doug Callow of ASC recalls the circumstances of Don
Williams’ departure:
The day before he got the push I was with him and we’d gone
up to Canberra . . . Don was at war with the Swedes [over
the issue of defaulting Rockwell] and the chairman was a
Swede . . . This is October 1993 now and I was actually
asking Don whether he was pushing it too hard and there
was a danger they’d turf him out. He recognised that but he
was such a confident sort of guy I think he thought he could
walk on water – or he knew he’d get a pay-off so it didn’t
matter anyway. Either way he felt completely immune. We
were up in Canberra for a meeting and just as we were going
into the lift he got a phone call. It was the chairman and he
was gone quite a long time and when he came back I asked
him, ‘What’s happened? Have they given you the bullet?’
And he said, ‘No, no, I’ve sweet-talked him.’ I came into
work the next day and he wasn’t here. And I came in on
Monday and he’d gone. It was that swift.4
Geoff Rose was not consulted. He phoned ASC and asked

to speak to Don Williams, only to be told that he had left the
company.
Williams was temporarily replaced by Chris Skilton, a mer-
chant banker with AIDC, while the company conducted a search
for a new managing director. The search ended in Vietnam, where
Hans Ohff was working when the head-hunters called him. After
the failure of Eglo Engineering’s bid for the submarine contract in
1987, Ohff had been involved in the bidding for the Anzac frigate
project and the reform of the Williamstown Dockyard, before los-
ing his company to a hostile takeover from Transfield.
Hans Ohff began work at ASC in January 1994 and imme-
diately made his mark on the company’s style. During the early
years of the company, ASC was regarded by many of its employ-
ees as a profligate company. There appeared to be no need for
financial discipline as the company was awash with cash from the
early contract payments.5 In stark contrast, Ohff brought a skin-
flint contractor’s attitude to ASC, made essential by the growing
awareness that the larger part of the work on the contract lay in
front of them, while the payments would steadily diminish. For
Ohff every cent spent was a cent off the profit from the contract.
At ASC the office lights were no longer left on at night, people
wrote memos on the back of old envelopes and travel was cut
back. The new managing director led by example, often driving
interminably around city blocks hunting for a free car park.
Hans Ohff brought an aggressive and often confrontational
approach to the submarine project. It was said at ASC that the
epitaph on his tombstone should be ‘Kick the door in first, you
can always apologise later’. Many in the navy and defence found
him an inflexible and belligerent negotiator and almost impos-
sible to deal with. They felt that his policy was never to admit
that any problems with the submarines were ASC’s responsibil-
ity, causing even minor faults to become major issues between the
parties.
Hans Ohff admits that he was results-driven and used to deal-
ing with profit-focused companies, and his personality was not
good for dealing with an organisation like the navy, with its
amorphous and continually changing group of people with little
commercial acumen and greatly differing interests and agendas.
Nonetheless he feels that his motives were often misunderstood –
few remembered that he had been largely responsible for the deci-
sion to build the submarines in Australia and he had an enormous
personal commitment to making the project a success. He points
out that as an experienced contractor he could have treated the
navy like ‘lambs to the slaughterhouse’ because in a $5 billion
project the client is captive as the contractor cannot be sacked –
it would be politically and financially impossible to cancel the
contract and start again. A contractor could always take advan-
tage of the client in that sort of relationship because the client is
so big and bureaucratic and unable to watch everything. How-
ever, Ohff insists that he has ‘always been performance driven: a
safe and speedy delivery of a project would deliver a satisfied cus-
tomer and translate into increasing profits for the shareholders’.
If the company performed well there were large profits to be made
without ripping off the client.
Hans Ohff came to ASC with the philosophy that ‘the rela-
tionship between the customer and the contractor can never be
too close’, and his efforts to put this into place illustrate one
of the more confusing aspects of the whole submarine project:

who was the customer? Ever since the start of the project, the
project directors had behaved as though they were the customer –
telling the contractors what they wanted or did not want, check-
ing on work and authorising payments. Hans Ohff thought the
deputy secretary in charge of acquisitions, Garry Jones, was his
customer, with the project director being his immediate counter-
part. He developed a close relationship with Geoff Rose, while
treating the other contenders for the customer’s role – the subma-
rine squadron, the navy, and the Department of Defence – with
barely disguised contempt. He believed that these organisations
‘created the problems with the submarines’, primarily by setting
more and more conditions outside the original contract.
Hans Ohff says that: ‘I was never afraid of arguing with the
client, but I had fewer arguments with Geoff Rose than almost any
other client, because both of us were concerned solely to deliver the
best submarine.’ For Geoff Rose the primary focus was to ensure
that ASC delivered the submarines according to the requirements
of the contract and his belief was that this could be achieved by
working closely with ASC rather than ‘beating them up’. The close
relationship he had with Ohff and ASC was frequently criticised
in the navy.
For Hans Ohff and Geoff Rose the aim was clear – to build
the submarines according to the contract. They do not deny that
this was difficult and that the submarines had problems meeting
some of the contract requirements. However, they argue that the
greater number of problems arose from the navy and the sub-
marine squadron realising in the mid-1990s that they no longer
wanted exactly what had been contracted for in 1987. One of
the major issues of the second half of the project is the extent to
which the problems of the submarine project were due to changed
requirements rather than a failure to meet the contracted specifi-
cations.
An almost unintelligible sentence in the submarine project’s
quarterly report for September 1993 is the first official recognition
that the goalposts might be moving:
Approved ship characteristics: Director General Force

Development (Sea) has submitted a draft approved ship’s
characteristics for review against the baseline contract
specification to determine those requirements that have not

been addressed in the contract and identify any future
modifications needed to resolve these differences.
Geoff Rose was perplexed. His view was that he had a job to do
based on the contract, and if new requirements were introduced
and the submarines ‘I produced to the requirements of the contract
would not be acceptable to the navy; not only did the goal posts
seem to be moving, the game being played had changed as well’.
His confusion was never resolved.
One of the central commandments of the project from the
beginning had been to avoid changes to the contracted require-
ments because changes cost time and money. In addition, many
believe that submariners were kept away from the project to avoid
‘spec creep’, although the truth is that the submarine squadron
was too short of sailors and too preoccupied with the Oberons
to spare experienced operators for the new submarine project.
Consequently, the project was run by engineers, not submariners.
However, once Collins was handed over to its crew, the project
was suddenly open to scrutiny from the submariners – and they
were not entirely happy with what they found. The submariners
judged the submarines by what they wanted and expected, not by
the fine print of the contract, yet it was by the contract that ASC
and the project insisted that the submarines be judged.
Over the next few years contract interpretation and reinter-
pretation became a major preoccupation. The contract prepared
under pressure in early 1987 was subjected to minute scrutiny,
and every weakness was glaringly exposed.
Throughout 1993 ASC’s executives and shareholders were
deeply divided over two major issues that had enormous ramifica-
tions for the future of the whole project: what action should ASC
as prime contractor take against Rockwell for failure to deliver
the combat system, and what strategies could be used to sell
Australian-made submarines overseas? The company remained
divided on both issues and these divisions ensured that no effec-
tive action took place on either.
Wariness of Rockwell and the dangers of responsibility for the
combat system was always a major concern of the ASC board,
and this concern increased as the reports on the progress of the
combat system became increasingly dismal. Tomy Hjorth recalls
that after he became chairman of ASC in 1990, ‘the Rockwell issue

was discussed at every board meeting where the main concern was
to stay away from Rockwell’. The project office did not discourage
this approach, as it retained faith in Rockwell’s ability to deliver
and did not want ASC interfering.
In the early years of the project AIDC could be relied on to
vote against any strong action against Rockwell, but this attitude
had changed by 1992. Partly this was because its stake in ASC had
greatly increased following the departure of CBI and Wormald,
but another factor was that the large profits generated by ASC
had excited AIDC about the possibilities of defence work and it
wanted to become more actively involved in the area.
Peter Horobin was working as a consultant for AIDC in 1992
when the board asked him to explain the problems of the combat
system in terms that merchant bankers could understand. They
could see that Rockwell might fail to deliver the combat system
and became increasingly concerned about the consequences for
ASC if this happened.
A critical date was fast approaching. ASC had full warranties
and bank guarantees from Rockwell worth hundreds of millions of
dollars that it would deliver the combat system before September
1993. Under the contract a default notice would have to be issued
to Rockwell by 9 September in order for ASC to be able to enforce
its warranties. ASC was bitterly divided over whether or not to
push for default. Ironically, two of the strongest voices for default-
ing Rockwell were those of Peter Horobin and Pär Bunke, who on
most other issues differed strongly. Horobin believed that ‘the only
way to control Rockwell was by using a dirty great sledgeham-
mer’ and default was the most readily available sledgehammer. For
Bunke, as ASC’s commercial manager, default was the only option
that made commercial sense, and he was supported by ASC legal
counsel Chris Gerrard, who wrote many memos pointing out the
legal dangers ASC faced if it did not default Rockwell.
For the first half of 1993 Don Williams and most of ASC’s man-
agement opposed using the sledgehammer of default, preferring
to rely on the reassurances of Rockwell and the project office that
everything would work out in the end. However, as the deadline
approached the ASC board listened to the fears of its two major
shareholders and voted for default.6 As chairman, Tomy Hjorth
had the task of telling Tony Ayers, Secretary of the Department
of Defence. The meeting has become the stuff of legend. Hjorth,

a cultivated and sensitive Swedish gentleman, was confronted by
an irate, blunt-talking Australian bureaucrat, who abused him for
35 minutes and threw him out.
Ayers told Hjorth that ASC should have come to him before
defaulting Rockwell, but it is hard to believe that ASC’s decision
really came as a surprise as it had been openly debated for months.
Essentially, the Defence Department could not handle the political
consequences of defaulting Rockwell. It would mean admitting
that one of the major sub-contracts for the submarine had failed,
with no readily available quick fix, and it would mean dealing with
a large and angry American defence contractor, with the massive
financial and political muscle of the American military-industrial
complex behind it. Far easier for Ayers and his department to deal
with a politically impotent company from neutral Sweden.
On 1 September 1993 Geoff Rose wrote to ASC instructing it
to accept incremental delivery of the combat system. There was
to be no more talk of default.7
The consequences flowing from these events were many. They
began a soap opera, continuing for the rest of the decade, of
numerous ‘drops’ of the combat system, with names like ‘release
1.5.5, drop 3’, each of which tried to offer slightly increased per-
formance on the previous drop. They meant that ASC lost its
right to default Rockwell and therefore the only power it had
over its recalcitrant sub-contractor. The corollary of this was that
ASC also abdicated from any responsibility for Rockwell’s per-
formance. From this time on the combat system was a growing
nightmare for the navy and the Defence Department, but for ASC
it could be used to take the spotlight of criticism away from areas
of the project where its responsibility was not in question.
From the time that the decision was made to build submarines
in Australia, there were hopes – even expectations – that some
could be sold overseas. Initially Canada and New Zealand were
seen as the most likely markets as both showed an early inter-
est in the submarines. Like Australia, Canada had a squadron of
Oberons and was interested in replacing them with new, long-
range, conventional submarines. Soon after the new submarine
project office opened, three Canadian officers came to work with
the Australian team in drawing up the requirements and looking
at the options for the new submarines.
New Zealand has never had submarines, but in the early 1980s
the National Party government’s concern at the cost of new sur-
face ships led it to investigate buying four submarines as a more
cost-effective deterrent. As New Zealand had no infrastructure
for supporting submarines, it made sense to work closely with
Australia and an NZ officer, Andy Millar, was sent to Australia
in October 1982 to join Graham White’s project team.
However, the elections in July 1984 led to a change of gov-
ernment and within 24 hours of becoming prime minister, David
Lange announced that New Zealand would not be getting sub-
marines. Andy Millar heard the news on the radio that New
Zealand had withdrawn from the submarine project and that the
officer on the project team had been sent home – and soon he was.
Millar shortly afterwards accepted an invitation from Admiral Bill
Rourke to return to the Australian submarine project, but New
Zealand’s interest was at an end.
The Canadians remained with the Australian project until
1985 but then went home and nothing more was heard from
them for several years. In 1987 a defence review recommended
that Canada should acquire 12 nuclear submarines, and it was not
until this fantasy was exploded that the Canadian navy returned
to the market for conventional submarines.
An important part of the Hawke Labor government’s overhaul
of defence industries in the 1980s was to build up defence exports,
and the successful sale of submarines would be clear proof of the
success of this policy.8 In October 1989 Kim Beazley optimistically
said that:
Already several countries are showing keen interest in the

Type 471. We hope that the Canadians will find that the
Type 471 will meet their requirements. There may also be
good prospects for exporting our submarine technology and
expertise to navies in our own region.9
Neal Blewett, a senior cabinet minister in the Labor government,

recorded the story of a dinner with the Canadian assistant Defence
Minister, Mary Collins, in July 1992:
We are in pursuit of a Canadian purchase of the Collins-type

submarines being built at Port Adelaide. Needless to say there
was much punning on the Collins name in the hope that

Minister Collins might purchase the Collins submarine.10
The problem with selling submarines was that there were

only a handful of potential buyers and the competition from
established submarine builders was fierce. Even at the most opti-
mistic, in the late 1980s the only politically acceptable countries
considering buying conventional submarines were South Korea,
Pakistan, Canada, Malaysia, Singapore and Indonesia.11 Taiwan
was potentially the most enthusiastic customer, but the conse-
quences for Australia’s relations with China would have been
disastrous.
Even more limiting than the small number of potential cus-
tomers was the product being sold. The reason that Australia was
building its own class of long-range submarine was that no other
country built a submarine that met Australia’s requirements. The
corollary of this was that few countries needed such submarines
and, of the potential customers, only Canada had similar require-
ments. Most countries were looking for smaller, short-range
submarines.
This in turn raised the issue of what Australia could actually
sell, and pointed to an obvious conflict of interest between ASC
and Kockums. The Type 471 being built by ASC was designed
by Kockums, and any sales would be dependent on Kockums’
support in the design area if nothing else. If ASC was to build
smaller submarines in Adelaide to export, realistically these could
only be derivatives of Kockums’ designs for the Swedish navy, and
would rely even more heavily on Kockums’ support. For ASC to
export submarines, therefore, it had to persuade Kockums that it
would be better to work through ASC rather than export directly
from Sweden. As Kockums’ order book shrank and its bustling
yards fell silent, it was hard to convince the Swedes that it would
not be preferable to keep the work in Malmö.
Nonetheless, in the early years of ASC some serious efforts
were made to market the Collins class, with ASC, Rockwell and
Kockums goaded by Oscar Hughes into cooperating with his sales
efforts. Hughes was the driving force behind pushing for exports
because he was determined to make full use of the capabilities that
had been built up in Australia and sustain the industrial infrastruc-
ture until it was time to replace Collins. The prospect of export
sales also had the effect of maintaining enthusiasm within ASC,

but he realised that ‘to win an export market takes years of work,
a lot of luck and a lot of money’, and that realistically the chances
of success were slim.
Rick Neilson was the Rockwell representative on sales trips
to Canada, South Korea, Italy and Indonesia. He recalls that:
‘Canada was a shambles – the Canadians had no idea what they
wanted to do.’12 The Koreans’ problem was they did not really
need a big blue-water submarine – but the Japanese are their tradi-
tional enemies and the Koreans wanted to have a bigger submarine
than them, so there was cause for some optimism. Neilson had an
appointment to see the chief of the Korean navy one Monday
morning, only to hear the day before that the chief of the navy
was one of five military leaders who had just been put in jail. In
1998–99 there was a push by Celsius, Kockums and ASC to sell a
derivative of the Swedish Gotland class design through ASC into
Korea, to be followed by an unspecified ‘larger than 2600 tonnes
submarine’, supposedly a Collins derivative.13 However, Korea
chose to buy HDW submarines and is now firmly aligned to the
Germans.14
Neilson also went to Indonesia in President Habibie’s day –
‘He’d just bought the East German navy and had delusions of
grandeur, but he was never really serious about Collins.’ The real-
ity Neilson found was that other countries simply did not need a
boat like Collins.
By 1990 Canada had ended its flirtation with nuclear sub-
marines and was once more considering conventional options.
The ASC consortium responded by setting up an office in Canada
to promote the Collins class. Pelle Stenberg was Kockums’ repre-
sentative in Canada, Don Dillon represented Rockwell and Rick
Canham went there for ASC. However, Stenberg soon felt that
the Canadians were unlikely to spend the money needed for new
submarines and that they would probably buy second-hand, as in
fact they did, when they bought Britain’s redundant Upholders in
1998. The ASC office was closed down in 1993.
After Canada, Malaysia was seen as one of the most likely
markets for Australian submarines, but the efforts in this mar-
ket showed that the fragile unity of the consortium was breaking
down. Malaysia wanted small, short-range submarines and was
not interested in a submarine with the capabilities of the Collins
class. This brought out the conflict of interest between ASC and
Kockums.
By 1992, when Malaysia was inviting expressions of interest,
AIDC was becoming interested in extending its involvement in
military industries. Inspired by Peter Horobin, it attempted to put
together a bid for a submarine for Malaysia, involving a pro-
posal to build the Swedish A19 Gotland design in Adelaide, but
with a Rockwell combat system. This proposal was made with-
out telling Kockums, which submitted a separate bid, also for the
A19, but with a Saab combat system. The consequence of the
disunity between ASC, AIDC and Kockums was that Malaysia
bought French submarines.
A final strange postscript to the export story came with a let-
ter from an unknown merchant banker claiming to be acting on
behalf of the Taiwanese government. In the letter an offer was
made to buy six Collins submarines, with a further incentive
being an offer to buy South Australia’s entire wine production.15
Although this was probably a hoax, it is likely that Taiwan would
have bought Australian submarines if it had been politically pos-
sible. Indeed the only rumours of export sales since 1999 have
been for Collins class submarines to be built in America for sale
to Taiwan.16
An old retailing truism is: ‘You don’t make money yelling
“Stinking fish for sale”.’ Any realistic chance of selling Australian
submarines ended in the mid-1990s when a storm of media criti-
cism made them virtually unsaleable.
But was Collins a stinking fish? While the first submarine had
been taking shape in the shed at ASC, its commanding officer had
been appointed and the crew assembled. Training had been under
way for several years and, with Collins back in the water, the trials
process was about to begin. Would the submarine meet the hopes
of those who had worked for years planning and building it, and
the expectations of those who were waiting to sail in it?
CHAPTER 18
The trials of Collins
Even in its golden era in the 1980s the Australian Oberon

squadron struggled to maintain its numbers and needed every
sailor it had for its operations. The ideal complement of sub-
mariners was over 800 but there were rarely more than 600, and
this meant that the squadron was reluctant to release submariners
to work with the project or to crew the first two boats, Collins
and Farncomb.
In late 1987 the project office prepared a ‘manpower forecast-
ing model’ and told the navy the numbers that would be needed
for the new submarines as they were built. The navy assumed that
sailors would be excited at the prospect of being part of the first
crews and there would be no problems recruiting, but as early
as 1989 the project was concerned that the ‘manpower available
for early training and trials of the new submarines was critically
limited and could disrupt progress’.1
The manpower crisis was a constant problem throughout the
test and trials phase of the project, and the original intention to
have a trials crew and a commissioning crew was abandoned as
there were not enough sailors to make up separate crews.
205
Commander Trevor Robertson, an experienced Oberon

captain, was the first commanding officer of Collins, joining the
submarine project in 1990. Robertson’s primary roles were to
assemble the first two crews and supervise their training, and
review the trials and operations procedures developed by ASC and
the project. Robertson was aware that he was the only command
qualified submariner connected with the project and by default
was responsible for telling ASC and the project what the sub-
mariners needed and wanted, although he found it hard to make
them listen.
The first members of Collins’ crew moved to Adelaide in early
1992 and they soon discovered the reality of the Royal Australian
Navy being the parent navy of the Collins class. With the Oberons
all the training programs had been developed by the British and
until 1986 much of the training was done in Britain. However,
Collins required completely new training programs and these had
to be ready for use well before the first submarine was launched.
As with other ‘parent navy issues’ the challenges this involved
were not fully appreciated by the navy.
Under the contract ASC and its sub-contractors were respon-
sible for developing and delivering training programs. As early as
1989 there were concerns about their slow progress. The project
office’s report for December 1989 fretted that:
It is now apparent to the Project that ASC’s current ILS

[integrated logistics support] development program has not
sufficiently recognized the first major milestone of
commencement of Trials Crew training in mid-1992 . . . [It
is] now increasingly probable that continued delay with
maintenance task analysis and documentation produced will
impact on the quality of some of the training courses.
In spite of this early notice, the prediction came true and the
early training was patchy, superficial and often a waste of time.
The chief source of difficulty for ASC was that the late comple-
tion of the design of many systems and the failure of many sub-
contractors to provide information on their equipment made it
difficult to plan the training. It is obviously difficult to train peo-
ple to use a system that has not been designed and of which the
trainer has no knowledge.2
THE TRIALS OF COLLINS 207
Mike Gallagher, who was the first commanding officer of

Farncomb and the head of the submarine sea training group,
recalls that the training for the combat system was designed
around what the combat system was supposed to be like, but
bore little relation to the patched up system that was put in the
early boats. As a result they trained for a system they did not have
and had to repeat the training for the system they actually took
to sea. He acknowledges that the company responsible for the
combat system training, Scientific Management Associates, ‘tried
their hearts out to make it work’, but it was impossible with the
material they were given.
The simulator for the ship control and management system at
the new submarine base at HMAS Stirling was more successful,
although when the submarines got to sea the crews found that
some of the procedures they had learnt in the simulator did not
work in the submarines. Peter Sinclair, the commanding officer of
Collins during its trials, recalls that:
On our very first dive – having practised this procedure
hundreds of times in the simulator – it was almost the
complete reverse when we dived the submarine – the
sequence of steps practised in the simulator were in the
reverse to reality with the result that the submarine ended up
with the propeller about 20 feet out of the water on her first
dive. We quickly realised that the sequencing taught for
opening the ballast tanks was different to the way the actual
submarine reacted. It was one of the things we fixed quickly
by changing the procedure.
In the crew’s view, the training for Collins presumed that nothing
would ever break down. The levels of redundancy in the sub-
marines were believed to be so great that the crews would need
to know little about maintaining systems while at sea. As a result
there was little training given for this, so when things did break
down the crews had to teach themselves how to repair them.
Marcos Alfonso, the first marine engineer on Collins, joined the
crew in January 1993, and says that they lost some crew because
some older sailors were unable to grasp the ‘fly by wire’ concept
of the new submarines. The Oberons were mechanical and manu-
ally intensive, while the new submarines were electronic and auto-
mated. In the Oberons the crew had to walk around to open and
shut valves manually; on Collins they sat at consoles and pressed

buttons.
While the new submarines were totally different from
the Oberons they had many similarities with the Swedish
Västergötland class, and most of the officers and some of the
crew of Collins were sent to Sweden for training. Trevor Robert-
son recalls being told by one of the old-style Oberon comman-
ders that he would never learn anything from the Swedes because
they only had a ‘brown-water navy’. However, Robertson found
the Swedish experience invaluable. The Swedes let him act as
commanding officer of one of their submarines and operated it
in English for him. He found they were experts in their shal-
low, freshwater operations and their submarine was brilliant.
The Västergötland’s ‘X’ configuration rudder made it extremely
manoeuvrable: it could turn in its own length and drove like a
sports car. Ulf Edman, the commander of the Swedish submarine
squadron, gave Robertson every assistance and he learned a great
deal from the way the Swedes operated their submarines.
The Swedes told Robertson of some of the problems they had
with the Västergötlands, and he wrote a report on these issues.
He thinks that the report was probably filed away and forgot-
ten because many of the same problems appeared on Collins. He
believes that the Australian submarine project did not get the full
benefit of the connection with Kockums and the Swedish navy,
because of a reluctance to listen.
When Australia’s Oberons were built in Scotland in the 1960s
and 1970s, the crews spent months with their boats during con-
struction and, as Graham White recalls, they ‘knew every nut
and bolt before they went to sea’.3 White joined ASC as sea tri-
als manager and he was disappointed that the crews of the new
submarines showed little interest in their boats while they were
being built. He told the crews that they could have open access
to the boats every night, but few sailors took up the offer. Trevor
Robertson confirms this. He spent a lot of time on Collins during
construction, and encouraged his crew to do the same, but few of
them did so.
Marcos Alfonso agrees that the crews spent little time on
Collins, but thinks that this was not from lack of interest. Much
of the training took place in Sydney and Western Australia and
many senior sailors and officers spent little time in Adelaide. When
they were in Adelaide they were allowed to walk around the sub-
marines but it was strictly a ‘look but don’t touch’ situation. They
could learn about the components and their location but they did
not learn how to operate them – this was learned at sea, ‘where
equipment was damaged due to lack of knowledge of how to
operate it’.
Graham White felt that there was an attitude of complacency
among the crews, which stemmed from the general view in the
navy that the contractor would supply the submarines and the
navy would simply take them over and drive them. They expected
that new submarines would be like new cars, where you just turn
the key and drive away. There was no understanding that the RAN
was the parent navy for the submarines and had a much greater
responsibility for the product than the buyer of a new car.
One week before the launch of Collins Trevor Robertson
resigned his command and left the navy. He felt frustrated that his
attempts to fix the problems on the submarine had been ignored
and more generally felt that he and his crew had been poorly
looked after by the navy. However, the main reason he left was
that he realised he would be posted away from Collins before he
had a chance to take it to sea and, after the excitement of sub-
marine command, he did not want to go and sit behind a desk.
The timing of the resignation was not designed to embarrass the
navy, but Robertson felt that once he had accepted a job out of the
navy, it would not be honest to stand up on the platform during
the launch ceremony.
Robertson was succeeded as commanding officer of Collins by
Peter Sinclair, another experienced Oberon captain. After attend-
ing the launch, he and the crew spent most of the next year training
in the simulators in Western Australia and Sydney while Collins
was prepared for the contractor’s sea trials. Sinclair recalls:
The first launch was purely political. Most of the submarine’s

systems were incomplete and nearly all hull valves were
blanked. ASC needed another year to complete fit out and it
was during this period that the real training for the crew
started and they were able to get involved in systems set to
work programs.
Many of the problems raised in the preceding years were
fixed after the submarine’s launch. Collins was taken out of
the water a week after launch and her fit out completed. This
gave the crew the opportunity to be heavily involved in the
systems set to work program and the extensive licensing
process. System task books were produced that ensured each
member of the crew was competent in their specific ‘part of
ship’. Notably in the 12 months before the submarine was
launched for the second time there were no resignations and
the crew went to sea for the first time with a high team
spirit.
The trials process was an exhaustive and comprehensive process

to ensure that each new submarine was safe and met the contract
requirements before its delivery to the navy. For the first of class
in particular it was also the time to discover and fix flaws in the
design and construction of the submarines. In retrospect it seems
extraordinary that the general expectation appears to have been
that Collins would roll off the production line perfect in every
respect, when every other nation that has ever built submarines
has had problems with the first submarine of every new class.
Oscar Hughes noted, in his ‘haul down’ report presented to the
Chief of Navy at the time of his retirement in 1993, that it was
probable that the submarines ‘would experience a range of defects
and shortfalls in performance during the trials phase’ and ‘that this
outcome was to be expected for any new major capability, partic-
ularly one based on the development of a new design’. However,
this view had not permeated the project and the project’s reports
did not mention the possibility of ‘first of class’ problems until
1995.
There were strong arguments against building a prototype for
a class of only six submarines – how do you retain the skilled
workforce while a prototype is being evaluated? – but the relent-
less demands of the production schedule, itself determined by the
schedule for taking the Oberons out of service, made it difficult
even to slow the trials process to enable the results to be evaluated
and applied to the later submarines.4
The trials were managed by a trials board consisting of the sub-
marine’s commanding officer, the ASC trials manager, the project
director’s representative and the head of the sea training group.
This was a contractual requirement, and was established to care-
fully control the trials process and ensure the highest levels of
safety. Each of the members had power of veto and could stop the
submarine from sailing for trials or stop the trials program and
bring the boat home.
The trials process involved achieving a staged sequence of
licences, with the first allowing the submarine to run on the sur-
face, followed by shallow static dives and gradually progressing
to unaccompanied deep dives. The delivery of a submarine to the
navy could not take place until the trials were completed and all
licences achieved. The licensing program was developed so that
the competence of the crew and the material state of the submarine
matched the increasing levels of hazard in the trials program.
The licensing program also included licensing the crew by
putting them through countless emergency drills in the simulator
and on the submarine, alongside and at sea. Peter Sinclair recalls:
This was an exhausting period: constantly practising
emergency drills and standard operating procedures, floods,
fires, hydraulic bursts. It often meant changing procedures on
the spot. With the excellent support of Mike Gallagher and
his sea training group and the professionalism of the crew we
became more confident and competent each day . . . What we
weren’t prepared for was the number of intermediate or
docking level defects that occurred in those early months.
Our inability to fix these problems stemmed from a lack of
in-depth training for our engineers. In hindsight though I
must give praise to them, because they handled every
circumstance with utter professionalism.
Originally Collins’ trials were due to begin early in 1994, but this
was too optimistic and trials did not begin until 31 October 1994.
The combat system was the source of greatest frustration. The
submarine could not go to sea without at least a rudimentary com-
bat system, as the radar, sonars and periscopes are required for safe
navigation. During 1994 there were constant disputes between
Rockwell and the project on the minimum combat system perfor-
mance needed to allow the sea trials to begin. The major problem
was that the whole system was extremely slow, constantly crashed
(taking up to eight hours to re-boot) and could not perform many
tasks. Another serious difficulty at this stage was integrating the
French-made sonars with the Australian tactical data handling
system.
Ironically, one of the main reasons why the project office had
refused to countenance defaulting Rockwell in September 1993
was that the combat system would be needed for Collins’ sea trials,
yet the performance in mid-1994 was so poor that Collins actually
went to sea and did most of its trials using little of Rockwell’s
system. In its place they used ‘stand alone’ equipment to run the
navigation, with specific software for the navigation functions and
a stand-alone navigation display to get Collins to sea. For example,
the combat system was unable to process data from the sonars,
so the project had to pay the sonar sub-contractor, Thomson, to
install a back-up sonar with a separate sonar display.5
On 8 August 1994 ‘basin trials’ began and the main motor was
turned for the first time. During September Collins was fuelled and
stored and ‘she proceeded to sea under her own power at 10.00
on Monday 31st of October to surface sea trials in the Gulf of
St Vincent’.6 Mike Gallagher recalls that: ‘Peter Sinclair disap-
peared at a great rate of knots . . . there was something of a sense
of sheer delight in actually getting the boat to sea.’ But at the same
time Marcos Alfonso and his engineering team were beginning a
long struggle with the diesel engines. By the time Collins passed
the Young Endeavour (which was coming into Port Adelaide) two
of the engines had broken down.
Collins’ first static dive was on 9 November and the submarine
remained submerged for 12 hours carrying out trim and inclin-
ing trials. Trials continued throughout November, after which the
project director reported that:
Despite appalling weather Collins performed extremely well
in the first phase contractor sea trials in November exceeding
the contracted requirements in many areas. Dive trials will
commence early in 1995 and Collins remains on schedule for
delivery and commissioning in November 1995.
However, there was a note of warning:

The combat system software remains the area of greatest
concern. Software integration activities for the
commencement of dive trials are progressing.
Following a break over summer, when Collins was taken out of

the water for ‘completion of outstanding work and some minor
repair work to the hull’, surface sea trials and static dive trials
resumed in early 1995. However, further dive trials were delayed

when the next release of the combat system software ‘failed its
performance verification in a number of key areas’, and in an omi-
nous note the project’s quarterly report noted that: ‘The number
of items on the design and defect list has reached the stage where
it would be an advantage in lifting Collins out of the water to clear
them.’
Learning from the early sea trials of Collins, the project office
saw the need ‘to review aspects of the design’, although at this
stage the problems cited were relatively minor such as ‘hydrogen
clearance during gas charging of the batteries’, the circuit breakers
in the propulsion motor and hydraulic system sealing.7
By early June 1995 it was agreed that the combat system had
achieved the minimum level of performance required for Collins
to begin its under-way dive trials. Due to the shallow water in
the Gulf of St Vincent off Adelaide, the diving trials were held
in the deeper water of the Southern Ocean near Port Lincoln,
although the open ocean was not the ideal location for trials. The
first dive took place on 9 June. The project office’s report said that:
‘After carrying out post diving and system checks at periscope
depth, Collins proceeded to 60 metres to conduct further trials.
The scheduled trials met or exceeded the contracted requirement
in every area.’
However, the following day the weather was rough and
Collins’ anchor cable parted. Peter Sinclair and Graham White
wanted to stay at sea and continue the trials, but Paul Greenfield,
the project director’s representative on the trials board, exercised
his veto, forcing the submarine to return to ASC to replace the
anchor. One of the problems that had become apparent during
the trials was that the propulsion motor would trip out and stop
when doing manoeuvres, and this occurred just as Collins was
approaching the wharf. With no power, the submarine drifted
helplessly into ASC’s ship lift at two or three knots, damaging the
sonar dome in the bow, before the emergency propulsion came
on and the boat shot backwards, damaging the trials support ship
HMAS Protector.
The propulsion system is software driven, and it was eventu-
ally discovered that the problem was due to a programming error
in the propulsion switchboard. The sub-contractors, Jeumont-
Schneider, accepted responsibility for the problem and it was
quickly remedied. The damage to Collins was soon repaired, with

the sonar dome being replaced at a cost of about $250 000.8
There were two significant issues raised by this incident. The
first was the reaction of ASC and the project team. Collins had
significant damage to the glass fibre sonar dome, but the amount
of damage was publicly denied – even though it was quite visible
from across the river. This naturally made the media unwilling
to accept that ASC and the project office were telling the truth
when they denied later stories. The second issue was that both
ASC and the project tended to blame the crews for problems like
the propulsion system failures.9 This left the crew in an invidious
position arising from the nature of the trials. ASC and the project
office were trialling a first of class submarine, but as they were
using a navy crew, every incident had to be reported according to
naval regulations. The crew felt that ASC and the project team
used them like ‘crash test dummies’, while the navy required them
to operate under strict navy rules.
Marcos Alfonso recalls that the trials period was
indeed ‘tough days’ as the crew was only operating based on
the training provided by ASC and the project office, who
were then quick to raise the operator error issue when in fact
it was either faulty equipment, poor training or lack of
training. Equipment did break down due to crew not
operating correctly, however this was due to the crew never
being taught how to operate it correctly and in most cases
training themselves with the assistance of ASC production
staff who through their set to work expertise knew how to
operate the systems.
During 1995 there was a distinct change in the tone of the

project office’s reports. The expectation that the submarines
would be perfect was fast fading and the project was taking the
more realistic attitude that faults would be found in a first of
class submarine. Thus the June report noted that, ‘A number of
equipment and/or system deficiencies have been revealed during
sea trials but no more than expected for a first of class trial.’
The crew members also had begun to accept that trialling a first
of class submarine was not like driving off in a new car, although
their perspective was rather different to that of ASC or the project
office. They found that there were many minor mechanical faults
and they rarely went to sea without something breaking down.

However, it was not the faults themselves that most concerned
them, rather the fact that they found it hard to diagnose and fix
the problems. On the Oberons the crews prided themselves on
knowing what spares to take and being able to fix anything that
broke, but with the new submarines the allocation of spares was
based on the idea that few would be needed because there would
be no breakdowns. Similarly, the manuals were simplistic, as it
was thought they would be rarely needed. Marcos Alfonso recalls
being surprised that when ASC technicians were on board they
were often able to fix faults that his team was unable even to
diagnose. It took him some time to realise that the ASC techni-
cians were not using the manuals provided for the crews but the
source data from the suppliers, and would arrive on the subma-
rine with support and test equipment or diagnostic tools that were
not available to the crew on board. When he asked them to diag-
nose and fix the problems with the tools and reference materials
carried on board, they were no more successful than the crew
had been. In his view the worst problems for the crew were the
training and documentation rather than the actual faults with the
submarine.
While it became the project’s approach to problems with
Collins to say that they were normal for the first of class, it is
clear that neither the project nor ASC had planned for dealing
with these problems. In June 1995, for example, the project report
said:
A number of equipment and/or system deficiencies have been
revealed during sea trials but no more than expected for a
first of class trial. These are being progressively rectified but
are diverting effort from the follow-on submarines.
If the first of class ‘deficiencies’ had been expected, resources

should have been allowed for this in the project planning without
diverting effort from later submarines.
The sea trials for Collins continued throughout 1995 and into
1996, with the date for delivery being regularly delayed, primar-
ily because the combat system could not achieve the minimum
levels agreed for acceptance, but also because the submarine was
plagued by frequent mechanical failures. Significantly, the prob-
lems appeared to worsen rather than improve during this period,
even though the submarine spent many months undergoing repairs

and modifications at ASC. The list of defects was long, but the
recurring problems centred on the diesel engines, the stern shaft
seals, the communications mast, the periscopes and the hydraulic
couplings. Noise only emerged as an issue fairly late in the tri-
als program, both because of problems with the noise range and
because noise was not regarded as a potentially serious problem
before the submarine began its high speed trials. But overrid-
ing all these was the continued poor performance of the combat
system.
In many other areas the submarine achieved the contracted
levels of performance with comparative ease. Little was heard
about these because they never became issues between ASC
and the navy and they never aroused the interest of the media.
A good example was Collins’ first deep dive on 19 January 1996.
Geoff Rose tells the story:
Hans [Ohff] and myself and Graham White went down to

Cape Jervis and . . . at one o’clock in the morning we went
down to the boat harbour and we got on the ex-Victorian
Safety Council rubber duck . . . and we barrelled out for five
hours out into the middle of the Southern Ocean and met
Collins and Protector.
Then we dived and we went past our deep diving
depth . . . We popped down in 25 metre steps and there’s this
wonderful guy . . . called Glen Sloan, an ASC naval architect,
he’s got all these strain gauges on the hull and he’s got his
computer there and all the rest of it and the submarine
compressed at exactly the right predicted amount all the way
down . . . and as we came up it came back to exactly the
same spot. Exactly. It was like going to test something and
expecting there were going to be a few problems and
everything was absolutely perfect. And we surfaced in the late
afternoon and it was just us and the Protector and no one
else. You could actually make mobile phone calls and Peter
Sinclair got on the phone to the Maritime Commander and
the Chief of Navy, ‘Yeah, we’ve surfaced, we’re fine. It went
well. Everything was good.’ Then we got in the rubber duck
and we went into Robe and stayed at a motel. We had to get
them to keep the restaurant open for us and we had tea and
then we got in the car and drove back to Adelaide and went
home and I thought that in anyone else’s navy there’d have
been ships and planes and press and stuff everywhere and we
just toddled out in the middle of the sea there and did it.
Collins met or exceeded specifications in many areas including the

contracted speed (with power to spare), manoeuvring, low-speed
underwater endurance and the performance of the ship control
system. All through the project reports on Collins’ trials a recur-
ring theme was the success of the ship control system. As this had
been a major concern in the early 1990s it was subjected to close
scrutiny and emerged with flying colours. For example, during the
full power snort trial in May 1996, ‘the autopilot was engaged . . .
as it offered better depth keeping performance than the operators’.
Marcos Alfonso and his engineering team, who bore the brunt of
the mechanical failings on Collins, found the ship control system
was excellent and Alfonso insists ‘we should bang the drum about
how good it is’.
HMAS Collins was delivered to the navy on 15 July 1996 and
commissioned on 27 July. She sailed for Sydney on 12 August,
conducting further trials on the way, but then had to ‘remain
alongside for the remainder of the month to repair a defect in the
main motor’. On 3 September she sailed for Western Australia,
again conducting further trials on passage, during which a num-
ber of ‘difficulties’ arose: an important component of the main
propulsion motor came loose; there were problems with the elec-
trical system ‘resulting from the large rolls in extreme weather’;
and there was ‘excessive leakage past the main shaft seal’. Collins’
trials program continued in the west but was frequently ‘disrupted
by a number of frustrating defects’.10
The general perception of the Collins class submarines has been
greatly clouded by the problems shown up during the trials of
the first submarine. While it is true that the major problems –
the combat system, the diesel engines, noise – were generic to the
class, a high proportion of the minor problems that arose during
Collins’ trials were remedied and did not reappear in the later
boats. This is clear from the fact that the trials periods and the
lists of defects were shorter for each successive boat.
The extent to which the lessons of Collins had been learnt
was already evident in the progress of the second submarine,
Farncomb, which was launched on 15 December 1995 with a big

‘Made in Australia’ joey on the fin. During 1994 and 1995 ASC
regularly reported to the project office that it had made ‘signifi-
cant improvements in processes and installation activities’ based
on the experiences with Collins. Similarly, the training and man-
agement of the crew profited from the lessons of Collins. Whereas
the crew of Collins had been encouraged to spend time on the
boat during construction but few actually did so, Mike Gallagher,
the captain of Farncomb, insisted on it. Further, ASC and the
project office allowed the crew to work side by side with the ASC
production crews, which meant they knew the boat backwards
before it was launched, and also that some faults were picked up
and remedied at an early stage. A further advantage was that the
technical departments of Collins and Farncomb swapped half of
their teams in late 1995 during Collins’ sea trials so that Farncomb
could finish off its training and head to sea with half its technical
crew already having been at sea on the class and knowing what
problems to look for and what to expect during trials.11
Farncomb began its contractor’s sea trials in September 1996,
and after the first series was completed the project office reported
that: ‘It is clear that the experience gained from Collins is
flowing through to later submarines.’12 Mike Gallagher recalls
that: ‘When we set off, the combat system was still not work-
ing properly and the submarine had many temporary fixes or
workarounds, but there were many fewer platform failures than
there had been with Collins . . . and Farncomb sailed through
most of the trials.’
Farncomb’s crew had some interesting experiences during the
trials. The first time they tried running the three diesels on full
power simultaneously the sonar stopped. They did many checks,
then tried the diesels again and the sonar stopped again. They
did more checks and by pure luck they discovered that as the
diesels started, the significant vacuum formed in the submarine
caused a pressure differential in the sonar cabinets. The cabinets
had breather holes in the casing, but the vacuum still sucked the
door in a bit and then the door would pop open, triggering a
safety switch and shutting the whole sonar down. The remedy
was simple once the diagnosis was made.
The crews of Collins and Farncomb were frustrated at what
they saw as ASC’s reluctance to fix the problems that appeared in
the submarines. Mike Gallagher told a story to illustrate this:
Back aft we only have three people on the Collins submarines

compared with the Oberons which had ‘a cast of thousands’.
On one occasion . . . at deep diving depth I found we had
three white-faced engineers back aft. During some depth
changing manoeuvres, the engine room hatch had made an
uncustomary and alarming metallic ‘boing’ noise. Such an
effect gives obvious cause for concern and after being invited
by the ASC staff to ‘. . . let’s just try that again . . .’ we
surfaced and went back to ASC to investigate. With a transit
time of almost 24 hours and any time spent alongside, this
obviously presents a substantial delay to the intended trials
program. When we arrived back Hans Ohff, no doubt
frustrated with more delays, was storming up and down the
wharf – the only way to deal with Hans was to be direct.
Hans said to me, ‘You gutless bastard, you get the submarine
back to sea’. I just replied ‘Here’s the keys’.
The simplest thing to do would have been to take the
hatch off and have a look, but what ASC did was to put
strain gauges on it and go out and trial it. They did the
standard tests and it made the noise again – all readings were
within tolerance and they could not work out what it was. It
was around the same time that the hydraulic couplings were
causing a lot of grief and these could only be fixed by taking
the submarine out of the water with many of them below the
waterline. It was suggested to ASC that while the submarine
was out of the water they might take the engine room hatch
off to investigate the outstanding issue. When they did it
made the now familiar ‘boing’ noise – it turned out that a
couple of the stud bolts were slightly out of alignment
causing the hatch coaming to ‘stick’ as pressure was
increased with the subsequent noise arising as the submarine
came shallower and the hatch recovered to its normal
position. It was easy to fix in the end but could have been
completed a lot sooner and without the need for unnecessary
trials.
Farncomb’s trials were delayed by extraneous events – failures

on Collins, which needed to be checked, and (unfounded) alle-
gations by an ex-ASC employee of lapses in safety and quality
assurance – but it nonetheless obtained its licences and was pro-
visionally accepted into naval service in December 1997.
At a project progress review in June 1997 John Dikkenberg,

the former squadron commander who had become operational
test director in September 1996, presented two papers on the cur-
rent performance of the submarines from the perspective of the
crews.13 In his first paper Dikkenberg emphasised that ‘in the
macro sense’ the submarines had achieved their aims:
We have at sea, potentially, the finest conventional submarine
in the world. Its manoeuvrability, levels of automation, diving
depth, diesel and electric endurance, atmosphere control and
habitability are unequalled by any conventional submarine in
the world. Its potential to grow is enormous and when its
teething problems are behind it, it will have proven to be one
of this country’s more outstanding achievements.
In operations to date the fundamental platform has
exceeded our expectations in every sense. Its acceleration is
impressive, its sustained speeds and endurance unequalled . . .
At PD [periscope depth], the automatic pilot [nicknamed
Sven] maintains depth to a standard a man is unlikely to
match. Automation in almost every function has removed the
mystique of snorting.
Dikkenberg identified several faults that had been fixed, notably

with fuel and the propulsion motor. And he emphasised that ‘the
improvements in the boats, in a difficult 12 months, are astound-
ing and each time we go to sea, I know the boat is in better shape
than it was the last time’.
However, Dikkenberg was remorseless in pointing out the sub-
marine’s deficiencies. The most serious continuing problems he
identified were the unreliability of the diesel engines and the com-
bat system. Noise was not mentioned as a specific problem, but
Dikkenberg noted that one of the forthcoming challenges was a
series of noise ranging tests.
CHAPTER 19
‘They were problems we
didn’t expect’
The general public perception of the Collins class submarines is

that they have been an enormously expensive disaster. The authors
have not encountered a single person without links to the military
who has a positive view of their performance. Most people are
convinced they are noisy and many express surprise that they are
still in service. Almost everybody recalls newspaper headlines such
as ‘Dud subs’ and ‘Noisy as a rock concert’, and there is a universal
belief that the project ran far over budget.
The totally negative view of the submarines is the result of
a barrage of bad publicity they received, beginning in 1994 and
rising to a crescendo in 1997 and 1998. In February 1994 the
Adelaide Advertiser ran a front page story claiming that Collins
had ‘lumps in its hull which could seriously impair its per-
formance’ and also giving credence to ‘persistent rumours that
HMAS Collins is plagued with serious problems’ including hull
leaks and poor quality steel.1 As with most media reports during
the mid to late 1990s, this report was a mixture of truth, exagger-
ation and fiction. It also began a pattern of media reports based
on leaks from ASC, the navy and the government, reflecting an
increasing disharmony in the project.
221
While the public view of the Collins class submarines is over-

whelmingly negative, in naval and defence circles they are gener-
ally viewed far more favourably. However, even within the defence
community there are widely differing views on the nature and
extent of the problems the submarines suffered in the 1990s and
who was responsible for them.2
The one thing almost all the experts have in common is that
none expected the problems that occurred in the new submarines.
While with hindsight many say that they were normal first of class
problems, the evidence of the schedule and the budget suggests
that there was no anticipation that time and money would be
needed for repairs and modifications.
While HMAS Collins in particular had many problems of vary-
ing severity, most were not difficult to resolve at a technical level,
although they frequently led to heated debate over the contractual
responsibility for fixing them. The areas of greatest controversy,
where it was widely (but not universally) believed that there were
generic problems for the whole class, were the diesel engines, flow
noise, propeller cracking and cavitation, and the combat system
including the periscopes.3
From the day of Collins’ maiden voyage, the diesel engines were
a source of difficulty and frustration, and for many years it was
rare for any of the submarines to have all three diesels in work-
ing order. The reason for any particular engine failure might have
been broken pistons, seized fuel pumps or fuel injectors, broken
gear trains, broken generator couplings, a damaged crankshaft,
or a similar mechanical failure, while the causes included contam-
inated fuel, the design or operation of the fuel system leading to
salt water entering the engines, excessive vibration, and manufac-
turing defects.4
The design and operation of the fuel system lay at the heart
of the problems with the diesel engines, and this was an issue on
which there was a strong divide between the Swedish designers
and the Australian operators. In order to meet the requirement
for long range the submarines carry a large amount of fuel in
15 separate fuel tanks. To avoid unbalancing the boat these have
to be emptied in a prescribed sequence. As the fuel is emptied from
the tanks it is replaced with salt water to keep the weight of the
submarine constant. The fuel system was meant to be operated so
‘THEY WERE PROBLEMS WE DIDN’T EXPECT’ 223
that the final tank never had any water in it, to avoid water being
drawn into the engines.
However, in operation substantial amounts of salt water
entered the engines, causing myriad further problems. The crews
and the navy blamed the design of the fuel system. Greg Stuart
traces this back to the environment in which the Swedes operated
their submarines. The Baltic Sea is small and both calmer and less
salty than the oceans. With less distance to cover their submarines
carried less fuel. They did not do much snorting in their normal
operations and when they did they were less likely to have rough
seas. Further, the fresher water of the Baltic was less corrosive than
the salt water of the oceans if it did get into the engines. Conse-
quently, the Swedes did not place a high priority on keeping salt
water out of the engines when designing the fuel system, relying
primarily on gravity separation. When the submarines operated
in the rough, salty waters of the Southern Ocean, the fuel was agi-
tated during snorting and when sailing on the surface, mixing the
oil with salt water, and it was almost impossible to avoid drawing
salt water into the engines.5
While the submarines’ designers concede that the fuel system
was complicated, they believe that the crews were poorly trained
in its use (training being an ASC responsibility as prime contrac-
tor). In their view the crews tried to operate the fuel system in
the same way as they had on the Oberons, rather than following
the procedures laid down for the new submarines. Olle Holmdahl
saw the main problem as being the crews’ practice of taking fuel
from any of the tanks rather than following the recommended
sequence. They were meant to keep the valves shut unless there
were exceptional circumstances, but Holmdahl believes they rou-
tinely opened them.6
Eoin Asker and others connected with the project office tend to
take a neutral view, conceding that the system was unnecessarily
complicated, but also seeing poor crew training as exacerbating
the problems. The problem of salt water entering the engines grad-
ually lessened as the crews became used to the fuel system, but it
was not until the system was supplemented with a navy-supplied
fuel coalescer in 1999 that the problem was overcome.
Crew members bridle at the claim that they were responsible
for the failures of the diesel engines. Peter Sinclair says that the
crews were trained to follow procedures to the letter and ‘on the
odd occasion [they] made mistakes but the problems that continu-
ally occurred were due to design or manufacturing faults and any
engineer or manufacturer that blamed the crews invariably knew
he had problems’.
The problems with the fuel system were exacerbated in the mid-
1990s by persistent contamination of the fuel supplied to ASC by
the navy. Throughout 1995 and 1996 the project office regularly
reported that Collins’ trials were delayed by bacterial contam-
ination in the fuel. This caused many problems in the engines,
the most serious being damage to the fuel pumps. Swedish diesel
engine consultant Olle Person recalls that he was asked by Hans
Ohff to investigate the problems with the fuel pumps. After dis-
cussions with the sub-contractors he decided that it was not a
manufacturing fault but caused by a bacillus living in the fuel.
Some products of the bacilli were corrosive and this caused the
fuel pumps to stick. They had never had bacteria in diesel fuel
in Sweden so this problem was new to them. The problem was
eventually controlled by the addition of a biocide to the fuel.
Salt water and fuel contamination were the most serious prob-
lems with the diesel engines and lay behind many of the other
difficulties, which included cracked or broken parts and exces-
sive fuel consumption. However, there were other factors which
are widely regarded as contributing to the failures of the engines.
Quite early in the design phase, the decision was made to take the
500-kilogram flywheel off the engines to save weight. Experts are
divided over the effect this had, but many think that this made
the engines less reliable and, by changing the natural frequency of
the engine causing it to vibrate at its specified nominal operating
revolutions, led to problems of cracking and breakages.7
Greg Stuart, however, traces the excessive vibration to the fuel
problems. He notes that:
A number of studies were undertaken that showed the

removal of the flywheel had no real impact on vibration. The
proof of the problem was in fuel pump usage. The fuel
pumps and injectors were a standard Bosch design. The usage
and repair rate exhausted stocks of replacement pumps. The
reason for replacement was corrosion. The corrosion had two
sources; salt water and acid from bacteria. When fuel pumps
and injectors corrode they can do two things, the amount of

fuel injected into the cylinder can vary and the point of
injection can vary. Both of these effects cause irregular firing
pressures which in turn causes destructive vibration. [This
was] destructive to the diesel and all engine driven
components including generator couplings and gear trains.8
Excessive fuel consumption first showed up when Collins had its

first full-power snort trial in May 1996, and meant that the sub-
marine could not carry enough fuel to meet its endurance specifi-
cation. Olle Person investigated this problem for Hedemora and
concluded that the main cause was a manufacturing problem with
the turbines leading to inefficiency in the operation of the turbo-
chargers.
The problems with the diesels led many to question the choice
of Hedemora engines. Hans Ohff thinks that the Hedemora sub-
marine engine was badly designed and suffered from numerous
manufacturing defects. He believes Hedemora should never have
been involved in the project because it was a small and declin-
ing company that lacked the resources to develop and support
submarine engines of the size required for Collins, or to remedy
any defects. Ohff believes that most of the problems with the sub-
marines were greatly exaggerated, but the diesels were – and still
are – a genuine weakness, and he was angry that ‘the navy and
DAO didn’t put their feet down and say “this is not the engine we
want”’.
On the other hand, Greg Stuart and others think that the
Hedemora engines got a bad name because ‘we were trying to
run them on salt water rather than diesel fuel’ and once the water
separation was modified they improved greatly. Stuart concedes
that the Hedemora ‘is a draught horse not a thoroughbred’, but
he and other defenders of the selection of Hedemora point to the
design advantage of being able to fit three abreast, the modular
construction, which allows for easier servicing, and the fact that
the engines ran with turbo-charged compressors driven directly
by the exhaust gases.
The diesel engines were a problem from the time Collins set off
down the Port River for the first time, but noise only became an
issue from the middle of 1996. Of all the problems the submarines
encountered, this was probably the most unexpected. Swedish
submarines were extremely quiet and there was always the expec-
tation that the Australian submarines would have the same char-
acteristics. Further, the Swedish design had been assessed in 1987
by the Australian evaluation teams as meeting the noise require-
ments. In the Oberons the main noise concerns came from internal
machinery, and consequently the Swedish technique of isolating
all machinery from the pressure hull by mounting it on platforms
was attractive for its potential to reduce machinery noise to an
absolute minimum.
During the Cold War the Swedish submarine force was
designed primarily to sit off the coast to attack a Soviet inva-
sion fleet. The submarines did not have to cover great distances
or run at high speed, so they were designed to be virtually silent
at low speeds, in the ‘quiet patrol state’. In contrast, Australian
submarines have long distances to travel to their operating areas
and they want to do that as quickly as is possible while remaining
undetected.
While the requirements for range and endurance were clearly
set out in the contract, the requirements for noise were less clear.
This is indicated by the fact that there were bitter arguments at
the time over what was actually required, and even today there is
nothing approaching agreement on what the noise requirements
really were.
There is, however, general agreement that the original noise
requirements and the way the requirements were expressed in the
contract lay at the heart of the disputes over noise. Andy Millar
suggests that the original specifications were vague because of a
lack of technical understanding of noise issues in the Australian
navy in the early 1980s. The Oberons were quiet, and when the
specifications for the new submarines were being prepared it was
decided to ask for them to be ‘twice as quiet’, even though it
was not known whether this was achievable. Millar suspects that
Kockums was uncertain whether the requirement was achievable
but assumed it would get close.9
However, even if the submarines had completely met the noise
specifications set down in the 1987 contract, this would no longer
satisfy the navy because expectations had grown. The contractual
noise requirements concentrated on noise levels at quiet patrol
state and when snorting, but were vague on noise levels at high
speed, yet by the mid-1990s the navy saw an increasing role for the
submarines in directly supporting surface operations and wanted

them to be quieter when travelling fast.10 Eoin Asker, an expe-
rienced submariner who was involved with the project for many
years, says that:
The operators wanted to go faster and with less noise than

the contract specified. They wanted to go at eight knots with
a noise signature that was contracted for four knots but at
this speed they made more noise and it was this that gave the
perception that the submarines were noisy. The submarines
got very close to meeting the contract – what changed was
the operational requirement.
Greg Stuart emphasises that the noise requirements specified in

the contract were not changed, nor was the contractor asked
to provide more performance than specified – ‘the operators
may have wanted more but that did not flow to the contracted
requirement’.
The confusion about the contract requirements and the navy’s
expectations was exacerbated by the difficulties of actually mea-
suring the submarines’ noise. Ideally submarine noise is measured
by a noise range in a deep fjord where the background noise of
the sea is low, but Australia has few, if any, suitable sites, and
none near the trials area off Port Lincoln. However, under the
contract the navy was to provide a noise range and in late 1993
the DSTO began surveying Spencer Gulf to find a site for a ‘shal-
low underway radiated noise range’, eventually selecting an area
near Thistle Island.
The contractor for the noise range was a small Perth com-
pany called Nautronix, which had been founded in the early
1980s to develop marine signalling techniques based on research
into the acoustic signalling of dolphins and whales. The tradi-
tional noise range suppliers had no technology to measure sub-
marine noise accurately in shallow water with a high level of
background noise, but Nautronix worked out a way to adapt its
technology to do this – although it was found that it was impos-
sible to completely overcome the difficulties imposed by an inher-
ently unsuitable site.11
The first inkling that the new submarines might have noise
problems did not emerge until June 1996, when the project office
expressed concerns with Collins’ noise levels. Six months later it

reported:
Investigation of problems relating to radiated noise are
continuing . . . The opportunity was taken to put Farncomb
over the [noise] range during December. Although defects
at the range prevented an accurate set of results, the data
collected suggested that Farncomb has a similar noise signature
to Collins, suggesting that noise problems are class related.
As this report indicates, the results of the noise range tests showed
that the submarines were noisier than expected but there were
arguments over whether the tests were accurate enough to estab-
lish whether the submarines reached the contractual requirements.
Hans Ohff agrees that ‘the submarines never met the hugely ambi-
tious specifications for noise’, but argues that ‘it was hard to prove
this because the background noise in the sea is greater than the
noise level specified for the submarines’.
While there is nothing approaching consensus on the noise
levels of the first two submarines during their trials in 1996 and
1997, the ‘median’ view is probably that of Peter Clarke, who
judged that:
The boats did not meet the noise specifications though they
were not as far away as the navy tried to make out. At slow
speed the boats exceeded the contract specifications for noise,
but above seven knots it was iffy and at high speeds it was . . .
over the contract.
Whatever the exact noise levels, there is no doubt that the sub-
marines were not as quiet as had been hoped and expected. What
were the sources of the unexpected noise?
Early in Collins’ trials there were some minor problems with
mechanical noise, notably from the weight compensation pump,
but these were quickly resolved. The main concerns were with
hydrodynamic noise made by the flow of water over the hull, and
noise and cavitation from the propeller. Critics like Mick Dunne
and Bill Owen argue that the design of the submarine is inherently
and irreparably noisy. While this view has been taken up by the
general public, it is not shared by either the submarines’ builders or
their operators. Peter Sinclair, as the first skipper of Collins, bore
the brunt of the ‘first of class’ faults, but he is adamant that ‘she
is super quiet, really, really super quiet at slow speed, quieter than
anything else in the world’. However, most agree with Sinclair’s
observations that the submarines’ flow noise increased greatly as
their speed increased and share his view that the shape of the
casing was the main cause.
When the Type 471 was first designed the casing was smooth
and even, being virtually indistinguishable from the Swedish
Västergötland class.12 A one-sixteenth scale model of this design
was extensively tank tested in 1986 during the project definition
study, showing hydrodynamic flows and noise levels nearly iden-
tical to those of the Västergötland.13 However, after 1987 the
designers at Kockums were forced to make changes to this tested
design. The most important of these was the sonar dome in the
bow, which Kockums wanted to place low down, but the project
office insisted that it be high to minimise the ‘blind’ area behind
the submarine. The initial plans had a low bow but the changes
resulted in a large and bulbous bow that is generally believed to
be the major cause of turbulence and noise.14
The changes to the bow were made with what appears to have
been remarkably little consideration of the consequences for water
flow. Although the issue was raised by members of the navy team
in Sweden, they were told money was not available for a new
model or test program.15 Consequently, the revised design with
the larger bow was not tank tested. This reflects an early failure
of communication between Kockums, the project office and the
Australian navy. It was not until after tank testing and air flow
analysis was carried out in the late 1990s that some relatively
simple modifications were made to the casing that appear to have
reduced the flow noise.
The other noise-related concern was the cavitation from the
propeller. Peter Sinclair recalls that during Collins’ trials they grad-
ually became aware that at some speeds there was no cavitation,
but at other speeds the water flow over the control surfaces onto
the propeller did cause cavitation. Although the propellers and
cavitation were hardly mentioned in the project office’s reports
of the early trials, by 1997 they were among the major concerns.
The chief of the navy, Don Chalmers, and American submarine
expert, Admiral Phil Davis, both saw excessive cavitation as mak-
ing the submarines unfit for combat. Don Chalmers recalls that
the contract did not specify cavitation levels but:
What it said about cavitation was along the lines of ‘the boat
should not cavitate’. But the boat did cavitate . . . I had one
of my famous blow-ups with Hans who said: ‘That’s only
because you don’t know how to handle the boat.’ And I said:
‘I don’t care how quiet the boat is [at slow speeds], but if it’s
detected it has to use speed to evade and this boat’s going to
cavitate and that’s death to submariners.’
It is difficult to design a submarine propeller that will be powerful,

efficient and quiet, with the power required for speed and accel-
eration always a likely cause of cavitation. Thus the Australian
propeller was seven-bladed for power and efficiency, while a five-
bladed propeller might have been quieter.16 Cavitation was not a
problem with Swedish propellers in the 1970s and 1980s, but the
propeller for the Australian submarine had to drive a submarine
that was much larger than any Swedish submarine. Greg Stuart
notes that the final propeller design was not selected until well
into the design process. The boat had become bigger and longer
but the motor had not changed, so the propeller needed to be
changed, but they did not go back and do the testing again.
Both Kockums and ASC blame manufacturing faults rather
than the design for the problems with the propellers. According
to Hans Peder Loid, SSPA’s testing of the propeller showed no
cavitation problems, and he is convinced that any problems that
later developed must have been caused by faulty manufacture or
changes to the submarine design. The faulty manufacture argu-
ment is supported by the fact that each submarine had different
cavitation characteristics, which would not have been the case
if the design was the problem. Hans Ohff is insistent that ‘there
was nothing wrong with the design of the propellers’ and argues
that the ‘problems were in manufacture’, both in the castings in
England and the hand grinding in Western Australia. After the
problems with grinding were identified, ASC reworked the pro-
pellers on their five-axis boring and milling machine, and the end
product was much more successful than hand-finished work. In
the end, however, only one or two propellers could be improved
because too much material had already been removed and on at
least one propeller the pitch had been incorrectly cast.
While admitting to manufacturing faults in the propellers,
ASC and Kockums felt that the problems with cavitation were
exacerbated by the way the new submarines were handled. Ron

Dicker, who had had experience of cavitation problems with
Dutch submarines, thinks that the links between the operators,
the project and the builder were weak and the operators were not
fully aware of the techniques required to operate the new pro-
pellers. The authors have found that submariners react strongly
against suggestions that any of the problems with the submarines
were due to their inexperience, but surely it would not be surpris-
ing if it took some time to learn how best to operate a new class of
submarine?17
In 1998 a further problem appeared when some of the pro-
pellers began to develop fatigue cracks. This was seemingly the
result of the ‘root’ of the propeller being too thin and manufac-
turing techniques that were inadequate when working with Sonos-
ton. The resolution of this issue is a story for the next era of the
project.
During Collins’ trials in May and June of 1996 another unex-
pected issue emerged when it was found that the periscopes tended
to vibrate in certain conditions, and had dangerous optical char-
acteristics including difficulty focusing, duplication and what is
called a ‘double dove’ effect (caused by internal reflections).
When the attack periscope was raised as the submarine was
coming to periscope depth it would begin to vibrate so much that
the vibrations would transmit through the hull and things would
shake all through the boat. Paul Greenfield recalls Peter Sinclair
saying that using Collins’ periscope was ‘like being shaken by the
hand of God’. The vibration was caused because the periscope
was not streamlined, leading to turbulence and water resistance.
During 1997 this issue was a cause of bitter dispute between ASC
and the navy. John Dikkenberg recalls being furious when ASC
told him that it was not its responsibility because the contract did
not say that the periscope should not vibrate. Dikkenberg took
the view that a submarine builder should know that this would be
unacceptable. ASC’s perspective was that the periscopes are part
of the combat system and the problem was therefore Rockwell’s
responsibility. Nonetheless, early in the project ASC had queried
Rockwell and periscope maker Barr & Stroud on vibration risk
but was assured it would not be a problem. As nobody wanted
to pay for a fairing (and there were space constraints as well)
Kockums decided to put the top bearing as high as possible to
minimise potential problems, and Rockwell and Barr & Stroud

signed off on the design.18
The vibration problem was eventually fixed quite simply after a
defence scientist suggested putting spiral wraps on the periscopes
to alter the water flow, but the issue was a revealing example of the
poisonous relationship developing between ASC and the navy.19
The optical problems were not so easily resolved. Mike
Gallagher of Farncomb recalls that both periscopes were diffi-
cult to focus when changing magnification; the search periscope
had a ‘double-dove’ effect, with a grey band appearing across
the field of vision; the attack periscope had duplication; and they
could sometimes see ‘two suns’ through the periscope even when
the elevation was zero. Barr & Stroud sent a Scottish technician
to investigate the problems. When he looked through the search
periscope the sun nearly cooked his eyes and he said, ‘You bas-
tards, you’ve set me up’, thinking that the crew had deliberately
aimed the periscope at the sun – but when he checked he saw the
elevation was zero.
Eoin Asker saw the problems with the periscopes as coming
largely from the navy’s excessively ambitious requirements. This
view is supported by Ron Dicker, who recalls that:
At the first or second design review, Barr & Stroud presented
their initial design for the search periscope. At the top of the
mast, going down the tube, they had the infra-red sensor then
the optical sensor then the single-pulse radar. The navy said:
‘This is not what we want – we want the optical view first
when the periscope goes up.’ Barr & Stroud said this was
silly and they should have the infra-red first, but the navy
insisted so the infra-red had to be below the optical. This led
to big technical problems as the optical signals had to be
bounced around the infra-red sensor . . . This was the basic
cause of the periscope’s optical problems.
As with the cracking propellers, the optical issues with the

periscopes were not fully resolved until the next phase of the
project.
During the trials of Collins and Farncomb the project office
listed all the current technical problems in its quarterly reports. A
large number of issues were listed, but most of them appeared
only once or twice, indicating they were quickly resolved.
Further, a majority of the issues that appeared repeatedly in the

early months gradually disappeared. For all the criticism of ASC,
the project office and the navy and the difficulties they had in
working together, most of the submarines’ problems were worked
through and fixed.
A good example of this was the successful resolution of the
leaking shaft seals that plagued Collins and Farncomb. The spec-
ification for the shaft seals allowed for a leak of up to 10 litres an
hour, but in the early trials hundreds of litres were coming into the
boats. Paul Greenfield recalls that ASC’s reaction was ‘She’ll be
right – just get the sailors to tighten the glands manually’, but this
meant that someone would have had to tighten the glands with a
spanner when descending and loosen them when ascending, which
went against the small crew philosophy of the new submarines.
On Collins the crew worked out that if they went astern at
100 revolutions it would throw the shaft seal back into align-
ment and keep the water under control. However, on one occasion
during deep diving trials this did not work. Peter Sinclair recalls
that he asked the engineers to check the water levels and got a
very muddled answer, so he told Marcos Alfonso to go aft and
check the problem. Alfonso soon called Sinclair on the command
line and said: ‘Captain, you need to make your depth shallow as
quickly as possible while keeping the submarine level.’ The sub-
marine was taking on 1000 litres of water a minute and the aft
main bilge pump was barely keeping up. However, Alfonso did
not pipe ‘flood’, as the response to this would have been to blow
ballast and accelerate towards the surface at a steep angle. A sailor,
Gary ‘Chook’ Fowler, was underneath the propeller shaft trying
to identify the leak and tighten the gland, and if the submarine
had gone to the surface at a bow-up angle he could have drowned.
Sinclair was able to bring the submarine to periscope depth while
maintaining an even keel and they were then able to throw the
seal back into alignment with the ‘astern trick’.
In the adversarial mood that developed in the mid-1990s ASC
claimed that the leak specification was not achievable, and the
situation was complicated because the original German supplier
of the shaft seals had gone out of business.20 A British com-
pany that produced similar seals for Royal Navy submarines took
over the sub-contract and fitted modified seals to Collins and
Farncomb which alleviated the problem. In December 1996 the
project office reported that the leak problems in Collins and Farn-
comb were not finally resolved, but the modified seals allowed sea
trials to continue while they waited for re-designed seals. Signif-
icantly, the report in December 1996 noted that: ‘Helpful advice
has been provided by US Navy sources where similar seals and
problems have been encountered.’ This is possibly the first men-
tion in the whole history of the project of assistance received from
the American navy. In December 1997 the project office reported
that a re-designed shaft seal from a new supplier had been fitted
on Farncomb and successfully tested to deep diving depth.
Many defects found in Collins and Farncomb were fixed by
ASC and its sub-contractors, and the lessons learnt were able to be
applied to the later submarines. In March 1998 the project office
recorded: ‘The first review of Waller’s form TI 338 A [the formal
record of shortcomings on delivery] indicates a large number of
defects overall but with significantly fewer causing concern than
for the first two submarines.’ For each successive submarine the
list was shorter and the defects less serious.
The early submarines suffered from numerous mechanical and
technical defects. These would all have been seen as normal ‘first
of class’ issues if not for three things. Firstly, the breakdown in the
relationships between ASC, Kockums, the project office and the
navy meant that many simple problems were not simply solved
but became subject to bitter dispute. Secondly, the change of gov-
ernment after the federal election of March 1996 made the project
the subject of political controversy. Thirdly, and most importantly,
the combat system still did not work at anything like the level that
had been hoped for. If the combat system had worked to expecta-
tions the other problems with the submarines would have faded
into insignificance and the new submarine project would never
have been seen as anything but an outstanding success.
CHAPTER 20
The role of Defence Science: noise
and diesels
In the early years of the new submarine project, scientists from

DSTO were deeply involved in several key areas, notably steel
and welding, the sonars and the development of anechoic tiles.
The second phase of DSTO involvement centred on resolving the
problems shown up during the trials of the early submarines.
When the results of the noise range testing of HMAS Collins
showed that the new submarine was noisier than expected and
there appeared to be propeller cavitation, generating more com-
plex noise characteristics, the project team called in the Ship Noise
and Vibration Group from DSTO to assess the situation and help
the navy argue its case against ASC and Kockums.1
This was the beginning of a concerted defence science effort
to understand and resolve the problems of the new submarines.
Many of DSTO’s divisions and experts were to be pulled into the
effort but it was the Aeronautical and Maritime Research Labo-
ratories (now Platform Systems Laboratory) in Melbourne under
Dr Bill Schofield2 that was central to research on the submarines,
and the Maritime Operations Division in Adelaide that took the
scientific lead on the combat system.
235
The Ship Noise and Vibration Group was set up at DSTO’s

Maribyrnong Laboratory in 1989. Oscar Hughes had approached
his adviser on steel and welding, John Ritter, after a Friday
evening’s ‘backslapping wash-up meeting’ in Canberra to suggest
that DSTO should establish a group to research acoustic signa-
tures. The chief of the Materials Division, Maurice de Morton,
supported the idea and so a group of scientists studying the char-
acteristics of machinery and hull noise in water came to join the
metallurgists and others in the division. Some came from inside
DSTO, but among those recruited from outside was Dr Chris Nor-
wood, who led the investigations into the acoustic characteristics
of the Collins submarines.
The propagation of sound under water is a complex matter.
Generally, sound moves four times faster under water than in air
and can travel vast distances. A sound will travel twice the distance
for an energy increase of only three decibels – an important fact,
as submarines are hunted through their noise signature. Sound
travels so well under water that the sea is a very noisy place. In
the past this favoured submarine operations because a competent
submarine designer would aim to produce radiated noise levels
approaching the ocean’s background level. With ever-improving
sonar software technology, this advantage has become harder to
sustain. Passive sonar can be ‘tuned’ to discriminate between more
variable natural background noise and those frequencies that are
typically produced by machinery. Consequently, submarines must
be ‘quiet’ but also have certain sound characteristics minimised
or eliminated.
For five years, Norwood’s acoustics group studied problems
with surface ships and had developed enough expertise to have
credibility when the project office approached it with concerns
that the Collins class had an inherent noise problem. A major
difficulty was that a solution would not be found simply by iden-
tifying the source of the noise being radiated. The critical issue was
how noise was transmitted into the water, as this was the path that
propagated the sound tones being emitted by the submarine.3 The
DSTO group simply had to persist with a series of experiments
aimed at successively excluding possible causes until a consensus
emerged about how the submarines were generating the unwanted
noise. The most obvious approach was to go to where the prob-
lem seemed to manifest itself and try to directly measure the forces
THE ROLE OF DEFENCE SCIENCE: NOISE AND DIESELS 237
at play. The project arranged a simple means to test Norwood’s

hypothesis and this proved that the tones, thought by the designer
to be coming from elsewhere, in fact came from the propulsion
system. Norwood recalls:
The submarine was run across the sound range, power closed
off and the boat allowed to coast. The tones disappeared
immediately.
The tremendous turbulence created when Collins made way on

the surface had always been eye-catching and it seemed likely that
this was in some way interacting with the propeller to generate the
propulsion system noise. DSTO designed, developed and applied
a strain gauge system to measure the vibration of the propeller
blades. Tests with the submarine dived showed the vibrations of
the propeller matched the noise problems measured on the acous-
tic range. In tests with the submarine running on the surface the
level of propeller vibration was found to be so high that it exceeded
what should have been possible with the propulsion system.
It appeared that additional energy was being fed into the pro-
peller and the flow characteristics around the hull were the prime
suspect. DSTO did not have a testing tank but its Air Vehicles Divi-
sion had a research wind tunnel, so it was controversially decided
to use the aerodynamics research tool to evaluate the flow patterns
around the submarine’s hull and into the propeller. David Wyllie,
who was appointed chief of the Maritime Platforms Division in
1998, recalls strong opposition from parts of the navy to the idea
that a submarine could be tested in a wind tunnel, although air-
craft designs had been tested in water tunnels for years. Indeed,
utilising the wind tunnel may have had such a direct inspiration.
Wyllie recalls the story around Fishermans Bend at the time that a
friend of Bill Schofield, a professor in aerodynamics, having seen
pictures of the Collins, had rung to express his amazement that
the inefficiency of the hull shape should be so obvious.
The use of the wind tunnel was typical of how DSTO went
about its business, using initiative to make the best use of limited
resources. So the acoustic group used the knowledge of Dr Bruce
Fairlie of the Air Operations Division to set up tests that would
yield information on the interaction of flows around the hull and
into the propeller. Much of the experimental equipment had to
be designed on site by technical officer Peter Climas. Computer
modelling was used, even though the available software was not
entirely suitable and was developed as the experiments progressed.
This procedure differed little from the design of the whole exper-
iment, however, as all the data yielded had to be interpreted to
allow for the differences between air and sea water in density, vis-
cosity and other parameters. The outcome was interesting enough
for Wyllie to remark on the number of senior US Navy officers
who began to visit DSTO’s Fishermans Bend facility and how this
promoted collaborative research between DSTO and its American
equivalents.
In 1993 the project office had sought contacts in the US Navy’s
engineering and research establishments. At first the Americans
resisted talking about their submarine technologies, but even-
tually an exchange developed over aspects of ‘technologies’ to
do with the sub-marine environment. As the Collins acoustic
signature became an increasing problem, Greg Stuart from the
project worked with diplomatic and scientific staff in the USA and
Australia to gain access to the US Navy’s expertise in acoustics.
The Americans closely guard this expertise, but eventually agreed
to model the performance of the Collins. The results correlated
closely with those of DSTO’s wind tunnel tests and confirmed
what the acoustics group had been telling the navy.
Several features of the Collins hull shape generated significant
turbulence: the cylindrical array knuckle, the fin, and the hull cas-
ing. This disturbed mass of water was tumbling over the abrupt
end of the casing and arriving at the propeller in two turbulent
streams that were nicknamed ‘rabbit’s ears’. Each propeller blade
hit turbulence twice in every revolution, increasing their natural
vibration and inducing cavitation. Kockums had tested a model
of the Collins propeller and was certain it did not cavitate, but
in the tank tests Kockums had trialled the propeller behind a per-
fectly cylindrical mount; there were no ‘rabbit’s ears’ to excite the
blades.
The findings from this research at DSTO and in America led to
the design of a series of modifications to the fibreglass casing and to
the fin. These succeeded in taming the ‘rabbit’s ears’ but the seven-
tonne propeller remained a problem. The propellers made for the
Collins class were cast from Sonoston and the first batch were
hand-chiselled from the casting – with the result that they were far
from the high-tolerance product of multi-axis machine tools that
drove nuclear-powered submarines in the north Atlantic. The

blades often did not line up in a flat plane, one behind the other,
but could be skewed cross-wise. Nor did the alloy perform as it
was supposed to. Ross Juniper of the acoustics group at DSTO
had Sonoston analysed. It did indeed have natural damping char-
acteristics, but they were engaged only at dynamic stresses much
higher than any likely to be encountered in the operational profile
of an Australian submarine. When not under these stress load-
ings, Sonoston was only a little better than conventional nickel-
alloy bronze. DSTO research also exposed the potential for this
material to crack when placed under load in seawater.
Although the unsatisfactory propeller characteristics that
bedevilled the submarines’ acoustic signature were largely due to
hull-generated turbulence, DSTO’s research suggested there were
serious flaws in the original propeller design and manufacture and
provided the navy with the basis to investigate alternative designs.
Further research on an increasingly quiet submarine found
that, although propeller blade vibration contributed to noise gen-
eration, it was not the sole emitter of sound tones. The entire drive
train was involved and it was the hull that radiated any propeller-
induced vibration. Further investigations headed off to the new
problem of how to damp the entire hull of a submarine.
While making progress towards producing a submarine that
operated quietly on battery power, Norwood and his group had
other urgent problems with vibration. The Collins submarines
were noisy when they snorted. The diesels – or, more accurately,
the generator sets – vibrated excessively, and Norwood’s col-
league, Geoff Goodwin, a propulsion engineer from the Mar-
itime Platforms Division, was working on the problem. However,
although engine vibration may have been the noise source, it was
not the means of transmission. DSTO saw that the intermediate
masses in the two-stage mounts on which the diesel generator sets
were placed were too light. That meant that the masses could be
vibrating at the same frequencies as the generator set, with a dan-
ger that the mounts could be ineffective at those frequencies and
could actually amplify the noise transmission.
Traditionally, an intermediate mass system for two-stage
mounts for heavy industrial engines should have the same mass
as the machinery mounted on it. Yet, when the Type 471 design
was selected it was recognised as weight limited, with the small
margin of only 20 tonnes to accommodate changing requirements

over the life of the boat. One of the weight-saving measures used
by Kockums was to lighten the generator mounting structure,
and the designers attempted to compensate by fitting the engine
mounts with absorbers tuned to cancel out critical vibration fre-
quencies. This was ineffective. The tuned absorbers used a split
mass, and when analysed they had different characteristics in the
way they damped vibration depending on whether the split was
aligned with, or at right angles to, the vibration source. The design
made it possible for them to be installed either way and it was pos-
sible that they could be wrongly installed. DSTO redesigned the
absorbers to ensure better tuning and uniformity in installation.
The diesel exhaust was another noise source which DSTO anal-
ysis showed was essentially a design issue. The space within the
engine room and fin is limited, and cramming the mufflers and
exhaust pipes into the confined area had been achieved by using
mufflers that were too small for good acoustic performance. For
example, the uneven lengths of the pipes in the exhaust system pro-
duced undesirable tones. The acoustic group’s analysis prompted
a successful redesign of this part of the exhaust system. They then
examined the exhaust outlet at the top of the fin and conducted
experiments, including water injection into the exhaust, but such
is the complexity of underwater acoustics that many of the results
proved inconclusive.
It was the nature of the acoustic group’s work that experi-
mentation did not always find the solution. As the analysis of
Collins’ acoustic signature developed, two distinct tones could
be heard when it was on battery power. One proved to be from
a redundant system that could simply be switched off, but the
other was more difficult. ‘Malice’, a near-field acoustic hologra-
phy research tool, helped to indicate that the tone emanated from
the battery stack exhaust fans. John Dickens, an electrical engineer
with the group, found the fans had been designed for two-speed
operation and, although they were on slow for 90 per cent of the
time, the design had been optimised to the high-speed requirement.
Dickens suggested that the cause could lie here and the problem
was resolved by altering the voltage supplied to the fans.
While the Ship Noise and Vibration Group was analysing the
submarines’ acoustic characteristics, another section of DSTO was
investigating another problem area. In 1997 Dr Geoff Goodwin
received a diesel engine piston at his Maribyrnong laboratory.4 A

hole had been opened in its side. A few months later, a second
piston arrived in a similar but less advanced state, and there were
stories that the pistons of the new submarines were melting. This
was the beginning of research by the Propulsion and Energy Man-
agement Technologies Group into the Hedemora diesel engines.
Goodwin was an expert on marine diesel engines. He had
gained his PhD from Sussex University in the 1970s for his thesis
on engine problems with the Royal Navy’s Oberon submarines.
In late 1987 he arrived in Adelaide as the logistics engineer-
ing manager for the newly established ASC, but he returned to
research in 1992 when Janis Cocking recruited him into DSTO’s
propulsion group as a combustion engineer.5 At the time the main
focus of this group was an examination of the technical risks
associated with fitting the new submarines with air-independent
propulsion.
The pistons in Goodwin’s laboratory suffered from ring carrier
failure: the piston ring carrier had broken away and iron debris
had beaten a cavity in the side of the aluminium piston. Good-
win and the failure investigators at DSTO deduced that this was
a manufacturing fault in a couple of pistons and a lack of any
similar incidents supported a view that it was an isolated event.
However, the submarines’ diesel engines were earning a surpris-
ing reputation for unreliability. Since one of the central design
concepts of the class had been to reduce the snorting time by hav-
ing sufficient generating capacity to quickly recharge the batteries,
the emerging unreliability of the engines significantly reduced their
capability.
Kockums knew the engines had vibration problems. The V18
diesel-powered generator sets to be used for the Collins class were
derived from Hedemora’s best-selling line of power generators.
These normally sat on the heavy chassis of a locomotive or on
the bed plate on a drilling rig. The units for the submarines were
unique monolithic generator sets, with a stiffer engine crankcase
together with the generator and bell housing forming its struc-
ture. There was no substructure, the complete generator set being
mounted on rubber isolators. Hedemora adopted this arrange-
ment for earlier Swedish submarines but these were smaller-bore
V12 units. The V18 generator set was nearly seven metres long
and weighed 23 tonnes, sufficient to allow the structure to bend
and twist along its length, especially in the region of the bell hous-
ing. In the same way that a ruler can be ‘twanged’, this could
generate vibration at a natural frequency. This was the vibration
that Kockums sought to isolate with the tuned absorbers and that
DSTO’s acoustic group was seeking to correct.
From Geoff Goodwin’s viewpoint, this natural frequency of
the generator set was too close to others generated by the engine
and could start enough vibration to damage other components.
Already, there were reports of cracked and leaking auxiliary pip-
ing. The navy tried to manage the problem by slightly increasing
the diesel’s running speed, but the situation worsened, and so the
diesel speed was reduced. This reduced the vibration but Jeumont
Schneider warned that this would cook their generators. A com-
promise engine speed was agreed, but the consequence was that
the generators produced slightly less power and recharging the
batteries took a little longer.
The propulsion group also developed a computer model of
the engine to determine its natural frequencies. Validation of the
model was achieved by placing 14 accelerometers around a gen-
erator set on Dechaineux and then striking the end of the diesel
with a 15-pound plastic-faced mallet. This enabled a full struc-
tural model of the generator set to be completed by a team of
four scientists. The model was ‘fitted’ with stiffeners and bracing
bars that joined the engine block and generator across the bell
housing, and increased the lateral bending stiffness of the unit.
Results showed that the natural frequency of the stiffened unit
should have changed by several Hertz. A slightly lesser result was
achieved in practice; nevertheless, this simple modification was
good enough to halve the vibration. The mass of the bracing units
totalled less than 100 kilograms.
The propulsion group later received broken parts from auxil-
iary gearboxes that had failed. This was not unusual for DSTO,
as one of its standard roles is to improve the operation of defence
equipment by analysing recurring faults. Goodwin’s preferred
approach was to consult with the manufacturer and encourage
them to accept a need for change and to supply a modified part as
manufacturer’s components, carrying a stock number and a guar-
antee. The gearbox in the submarines is fitted with two starter
motors because the engine starts as an air pump, to blow water out
of the exhaust system when the submarine begins to snort. It was
the first Hedemora engine where two starter motors were needed,
and consequently there was more starting torque than in any other
Hedemora engine. The propulsion group put a failed interme-
diate gear through stress analysis and the part was redesigned.
The results were turned over to Hedemora, who did their own
checks and came back with a part that was even stronger than
had been recommended by DSTO. The problem was solved. For
his part, Goodwin enjoyed working with Hedemora and found
them responsive to his suggestions.
DSTO’s Propulsion and Energy Management Technologies
Group continues its work on the Hedemora generator sets and is
conducting thermal modelling and other experiments to improve
the consistency of operation of the turbocharger turbines. It has
continued to study problems with some nozzle failures, provid-
ing data for a management program to minimise the damage
that malfunction of these components can cause. This is a prob-
lem that has occasionally appeared in Hedemora engines for
many years, but is more common in the submarine environment.
Goodwin thinks they are approaching an understanding of the
issue that will allow a lasting solution, and will further improve
engine reliability and effectiveness. DSTO hopes to contribute to
further gains in reliability and performance, and reductions in fuel
consumption and noise, so the engines will serve the Collins class
well in the remaining 20 or so years of life for the class.
CHAPTER 21
‘A patch on this and chewing gum on
that’: the combat system 1993–97
In 1993 the submarine project office told ASC that the combat
system would be delivered in two stages – the first stage (release
1.5) sufficient for the first submarine’s trials, with the second stage
(release 2) being the complete system to be delivered for the trials
of the second submarine. Throughout the period 1993 to 1997
this remained the plan, but the delivery of stage two increas-
ingly seemed like a mirage, shimmering in the distance, while the
submarine project staggered thirstily through the desert of end-
less ‘releases’ and ‘drops’ of successive versions of stage one. As
the contractors and the project office tried desperately to cobble
together a system that would allow the submarines to go to sea,
the hopes that had inspired the ambitious specifications for the
‘world’s best combat system’ seemed distant indeed.
The project office’s quarterly reports chart the story of the
incremental releases, together with the ever more distant deliv-
ery of the complete combat system and the steady elimination of
the more demanding requirements.
In September 1993 Computer Sciences was testing release 1.5
of the combat system software and ‘to date there do not appear
to be any fundamental problems’, although ‘the overall stability
244
THE COMBAT SYSTEM 1993–97 245
of the combat system remains a concern’. Three months later ‘the

stability of the release 1.5 tactical data handling system software
continues to be of concern’ and the system was regularly crashing.
There were also concerns that the integration of the sonar software
into the tactical data handling system was proving difficult and
this was putting additional pressure on the schedule for release
1.5 to be ready for the start of sea trials.
It was at this time that the project office began to think that it
might be necessary to use ‘stand-alone’ equipment for Collins’ sea
trials and started investigating possible choices. At the same time
the project office was resisting ‘contractor initiated reductions in
functionality’ – in other words, Rockwell was effectively admitting
it could not meet the requirements, but as yet the project was not
willing to accept this.
In March 1994 the project office reported that ‘the combat
system software is the greatest single concern’ and this prompted
a major review to assess the problems and recommend solutions.
The meeting was attended by software engineers from every com-
pany and organisation involved, and the project office reported
that ‘the outcome was positive and gives confidence although
there are still risks to be overcome’. ASC was not convinced, with
Hans Ohff commenting that: ‘During the Project Progress Review
meeting with the Commonwealth, ASC was assured by both RSA
[Rockwell Ship Systems Australia] and CSC that the architectural
integrity of the combat system software is not at question. We do
not necessarily share that belief.’1
There was a consensus among the experts that the system
required more processing power and on-board memory, but they
also recommended simplifying the specifications because these had
made the system so complicated that they negated the flexibil-
ity that had been one of the main aims in the first place. How-
ever, it was far easier to agree on these measures at a progress
review than implement them through changes to the contract –
so much so that some people have argued that from this time
on there were no technical barriers to completing the combat
system successfully, but the contractual barriers made resolution
impossible.2
The review effectively marked the acceptance by the Defence
Department and the navy that they would not be able to achieve
the full level of performance promised for the combat system.
From this time on there was a gradual reduction in what was

expected and a more rapid reduction in the performance of what
was actually delivered.3
In June 1994 the project office accepted that even the minimally
functional release 1.5 software would be delivered incrementally,
and the risk of ‘the release of version 1.5.4, which is required to
start dived under way trials, being late remains high’. The same
report also noted that there was concern that ‘deficiencies’ in the
sonar ‘may place a submarine at risk when dived’, so there was
need for a stand-alone sonar ‘for use during the early sea trials of
the first two submarines’.
Late in 1994 Rockwell, Computer Sciences and Thomson Sin-
tra carried out yet another review of the combat system soft-
ware architecture ‘to ensure that the required performance can
be achieved for a fully functional system’. The review found ‘no
fundamental flaws in the architecture’ but ‘several areas of de-
sign and performance have been identified as warranting further
investigation’.
Throughout 1995 and 1996 successive releases of the com-
bat system consistently failed to perform as hoped, causing delays
in the trials of Collins and Farncomb and leading to increasing
doubts as to whether the final version could ever be completed.
In September 1995 the project office reported that there was no
prospect that release 2 would be ready until ‘well into 1997’, so a
contract amendment was negotiated under which Rockwell under-
took to deliver release 1.7 by 30 June 1996 to ‘provide interim
combat system functionality sufficient to enable operational use
of the submarine including weapon discharge and control and all
major sonar functionality’.
In March 1996 the project office reported that release 1.5.5 had
completed shore testing and would be installed in Collins in April,
but it would need to be supplemented with further stand-alone
equipment to ‘provide the submarine with sufficient operational
capability to commence the operational test and evaluation phase
of trials’. However, release 1.7 had been abandoned because of
the effort that had been ‘diverted to fixing 1.5.5’.
The initial sea trials of combat system release 1.5.5 were
‘encouraging’ but then ‘a complex fault related to both hardware
and software led to several system failures which resulted in the
combat system endurance trial being abandoned’. The cause of
the problem was a faulty electronic card in a sonar cabinet,
together with related software problems. The fact that this caused
system-wide failures shows the immaturity and fragility of the
system.
In September 1996 the project office reported on a further
review of the combat system, which concluded that Rockwell
could not complete the final software release as scheduled. The
stark reality now was that the schedule for the withdrawal of
the Oberons from service meant that soon only the new sub-
marines would be in service and, unless the combat system rapidly
improved, these would be less capable than the submarines they
were replacing.
During late 1996 and early 1997 several drops of release 1.5.5
followed each other in quick succession, but with only marginal
improvements in performance. One of the priorities was to get the
software to the level where the submarines could fire torpedoes.
In March 1997 the project office reported on firing preparations,
saying that ‘confidence in the system as a whole has increased, but
unexplained behaviour still occurs’. By the end of 1997 progress
on release 2 had stalled so that its completion by September 1999
was seen as ‘high risk’.
The project office reports are a chronicle of endless delays and
frustrations with the combat system, numerous reductions in per-
formance expectations and frantic efforts to stitch together a sys-
tem to get the submarines to sea. For the crews of Collins and
Farncomb the situation was extremely discouraging. Having been
led to believe that they would be given the world’s best conven-
tional submarine with the world’s most advanced combat system,
it was deflating to find that the performance of the combat system
struggled to match that of the Oberons. Peter Sinclair felt that:
‘The biggest bugbear was the combat system because this just did
not eventuate and we ended up commissioning the submarine with
what could only be described as an antiquated system and no real
fix in hand.’ Asked how the system compared with the Oberons,
Sinclair described it as
‘Oberonish’ and in some cases it was not even that good.

Certainly the active intercept capability was not as good, but
it wasn’t dissimilar to the Oberon’s in many regards. But it
certainly wasn’t state of the art and there were much better
systems available off-the-shelf that we could have plugged in
and used.
Mike Gallagher, with a slightly more developed combat system

on Farncomb, found that it was possible to ‘make it work and do
good things with it’, but the structure was hard to work with. As
an example, the way the menus were structured was clumsy and
counter-intuitive so that it could take up to 32 key strokes to track
a sonar contact and ‘if you touched the wrong key you could head
off down the wrong menu path and it would be cumbersome and
time consuming to get back to where you should be’.
The combat system was a victim of rapid technological change.
At the time it was designed PCs did not exist and the general expec-
tations of what computers could do was fairly low. By the end of
the project PCs were widespread and the average expectations of
what an expensive combat system should be able to do were set
against the PC – with the result that the combat system’s expecta-
tion gap kept growing and growing. Bob Clark saw that: ‘Young
people would come into the navy knowing what a PC could do
and this far surpassed what we were doing with the combat sys-
tem – the displays looked horribly old-fashioned for kids brought
up on PCs.’
John Dikkenberg managed the navy’s tests and evaluation of
Collins after July 1996, and was confronted with failings of the
combat system. He recalls:
Under most circumstances I would never have taken that

submarine to sea, but I was prepared to go because South
Australia was a quiet part of the world and we put other
checks and balances in place to make sure that the submarine
remained safe.
The combat system was fragile and barely worked. I was
determined to make sure it had some level of robustness and
declared that it was not allowed to be rebooted in any
24 hour period. On the first occasion at sea, it crashed
continuously and we actually brought the submarine home,
much to Hans Ohff’s chagrin at the time. The submarine
remained alongside for about two weeks while they did more
work on it.
When the trials resumed, the situation had hardly
changed. Over a short period at sea, the combat system got
worse and worse and eventually, for all intents and purposes,
it was entirely dead. The Rockwell and Librascope people
onboard refused to reboot it because they knew that the

moment they did so, I was going to say: ‘Right, that’s the end
of the trial, let’s go home.’ I can remember these guys
eventually standing in the passageway outside the wardroom
going through their list of problems. As the conversation
went on, they explained how they were going to put a patch
on this and chewing gum on that. Eventually I just said:
‘Reboot it. We’re going home.’ That was the sort of state it
was in. It had difficulty tracking contacts, it had difficulty
taking periscope cuts. Half the system wasn’t integrated . . .
The electronic warfare system wasn’t integrated. Half the
sonar functions weren’t working. You couldn’t even really be
certain that the results on the sonars were all that good. I
mean it had huge problems.
For those who had spent years working on the combat system,
reports of this sort were devastating – nobody ever questioned
that they were trying their best to get it right. At Rockwell and
its main sub-contractor Computer Sciences of Australia the mid-
1990s were years of turmoil and upheaval, with changes of own-
ership adding to the technical and contractual quagmire of the
combat system project.
During 1993 AMP sold Computer Sciences Australia to its
original parent company, Computer Sciences Corporation of
America. Chris Miller recalls that the takeover process took a
long time, during which the company was in limbo, although the
technical people tried hard ‘to clean up the mess’ and many things
were fixed before the new management moved in.
The new American owners sent out ‘a couple of really hard-
nosed guys’, Martin Babst and Al David, to run the combat sys-
tem project and they introduced a new focus into the company’s
work.4 They were prompted largely by a major dispute with Rock-
well in late 1993, when Rockwell defaulted Computer Sciences
for failing to agree to a release 2 delivery date. This action by
Rockwell prompted the new American management of Computer
Sciences, together with the contract manager, Tony Houseman,
to take the approach that it would do what it was contracted
to do and nothing more – there would be no more changes of
direction and no more changes to the requirements. The empha-
sis in the company changed from development to closure, from
dealing with technical computer science issues to making sure a

particular release of the software got out of the door on the given
day.5
Eventually Rockwell and Computer Sciences agreed on a revi-
sion to their contract so it was no longer fixed-price but became a
time and materials contract. Tony Houseman saw this as making a
great difference, and the relationship between the companies and
the progress on the combat system greatly improved from that
time.
In 1996 Rockwell sold its aerospace and military businesses
to Boeing. Apparently Boeing was rather surprised to find that it
had also bought a submarine combat system contract that was
losing money and had no end in sight. Although it had no experi-
ence with submarine combat systems, Boeing sent several senior
aerospace managers to Australia and threw millions of dollars at
the combat system to try to make it work. It also sought help in
the United States from large defence contractors including Lock-
heed Martin and Raytheon, foreshadowing the direction the com-
bat system would take in the next phase of the new submarine
project.6
The management of Boeing Australia felt that the company
was caught in a contractual vice, and others agreed with this view.
Tony Smith (another with multiple involvements in the submarine
project)7 headed Boeing’s combat system team and was frustrated
by
the total refusal of the Commonwealth to relax the
contracted requirements without significant pain for the
contractor. I knew the navy would not use all the capability
and they could have used the extra money to start designing
the next combat system, but the commercial side insisted on
a rigid adherence to the contract. Some of the stuff was
undeliverable but the Commonwealth would not relent. In
my years at Boeing I fought for some flexibility, but I could
not get the specifications changed – even though the head of
the navy agreed that it would be a good idea.
Don Chalmers, who was the assistant chief of development

in defence from mid-1995 until early 1997, had sympathy for
Boeing’s position. He recalls that David Gray, the chief executive
of Boeing Australia, came to see him and
pointed out that the contract was almost preventing them

from producing a combat system that would work. It was to
be a fully integrated system, but the problem with the
contract was that although it was purported at the time to be
an output oriented contract, in fact there were a lot of inputs.
They were constrained as to the languages they could use and
in fact the capacity of the computers they could use . . . They
believed they couldn’t develop the combat system at the time
and they were asking for the department to set aside some of
the requirements and allow them not to make the next step
but to go back and restart the thing as a whole. I think
personally that we should have done that. But the attitude in
the acquisition organisation at that stage was that: ‘These
people have never performed. Let’s make them perform and
get this thing to work and then we’ll look at improving it.’
This view is also supported by Chris Miller of Computer Sciences.

He believes that by 1995 Computer Sciences knew how to fix the
problems and make the tactical data handling system work, but
‘we were not able to do it for contractual reasons’. The system had
become far too complicated and the solution lay in simplification,
but the company was not allowed to do this because of the need to
meet the exact contractual requirements. It was not until the next
phase of the project that a settlement of these issues was reached.
The project office was unable to resolve the contractual grid-
lock. Colin Cooper recalls arguing ‘long and hard’ for the removal
of unwanted or low priority requirements in return for a resolu-
tion of basic requirements. However, he says that ‘Boeing refused
to accept any changes because of their contractual impasse with
Computer Sciences’.
With the benefit of hindsight it is notable that even after a
decade of work on the combat system there was no agreement
between those most closely involved as to whether the main prob-
lem was the fundamental architecture, over-optimistic require-
ments, poorly designed contracts, Rockwell’s management of the
project, the use of obsolete technology, lack of operator input
during building or any combination of these.
In the early days of the new submarine project DSTO had
little involvement with the combat system, although the pos-
sibly unfortunate choice of Ada as the preferred programming
language was the result of a DSTO study. As the project pro-

gressed DSTO was interested in contributing but was discouraged
because it was thought that the fixed-price contract would force
the commercial participants to carry the risk and responsibilities
of their undertakings.8
However, in 1994 the submarine project requested assistance
with analysis of the target motion analysis algorithms used by
the Rockwell system. Dr Roger Creaser, chief of Maritime Oper-
ations Division, which contained the nucleus of DSTO’s informa-
tion technology systems expertise, soon recognised that the project
had greater troubles ahead and in 1996 established the Combat
Systems Research Centre. The centre built a ‘virtual Collins’ that
emulated the submarines’ computer systems, enabling it to evalu-
ate specific elements of the combat system. This became a powerful
tool for identifying where the problems of the combat system lay.
From early 1995 Bob Clark and Colin Cooper in the project
office had established close working relationships with the US
Naval Undersea Warfare Centre and the British submarine com-
bat system teams. They were able to compare the lessons from
the US Navy’s AN/BSY1 combat system and the British SMCS
projects, both of which had experienced problems similar to those
encountered in the Collins combat system. In 1999 and 2000 this
knowledge greatly facilitated the combat system augmentation
activities under the ‘fast-track’ program to overcome some of the
major shortcomings of the combat system.
The project team also planned options should the combat sys-
tem software not provide the promised functionality. These were
the Scylla open architecture interface to the sonar designed and
developed by DSTO and Thales,9 an open architecture port to the
tactical data handling system, and an industry-supported study on
how to open up the combat system to the newly emerging open
system technologies. These initiatives subsequently allowed the
combat system augmentation equipment to be rapidly incorpo-
rated into the submarines, as part of the original augmentation of
Collins (for her first deployment to Hawaii) and then as part of
‘fast track’.
DSTO became more deeply involved in the combat system in
1998 when Boeing was attempting to deliver its release 2.0 soft-
ware. Dr Todd Mansell, who had just taken charge of DSTO’s
combat systems research, was asked to determine whether the
software would meet the operational requirements of the navy.

He concluded that release 2.0 would not deliver the capability
Boeing had promised because the software could not overcome
the monolithic nature of the system, which was the primary rea-
son for its erratic performance. For example, a fault in the tacti-
cal data handling system would close down the sonar, navigation
and fire control subsystems because they could not be operated in
isolation.
By the end of 1998 it was clear that the original Rockwell
combat system would never work as intended. Collins and Farn-
comb were at sea with systems cobbled together from the function-
ing parts of the Rockwell system supplemented with stand-alone
‘black boxes’. Further ‘drops’ arrived from time to time but the
improvement in performance was marginal. However, neither the
project office nor the navy had yet faced the reality that the system
would never work effectively, and the political consequences that
flowed from that. Should the system be abandoned? Would the
politicians agree to pay for a replacement?
PART 4
RESOLUTION
CHAPTER 22
‘Hardly a day went by without the
project getting a hammering in the
press’: the project in crisis 1997–98
The year 1997 marked a turning point in the new submarine

project. Up until then the problems of the submarines had been
debated between the main parties involved – ASC, Rockwell,
Kockums, the navy and the Defence Department – with an occa-
sional burst of media criticism, but during that year a significant
new factor was added when the politicians joined in the fray. The
‘strange sense of unease’ that hung over the project in the mid-
1990s soon became a major crisis that destroyed many careers
and even threatened the future of the submarines themselves.
By the end of June 1997 the first three submarines were ‘struc-
turally complete’. Of the remaining three, Dechaineux was 94 per
cent complete, Sheean 88 per cent, and Rankin 83 per cent.1 ASC
and its major sub-contractors had been working on the project for
10 years, but now the end of the construction phase was clearly in
sight. Barring orders for more submarines from either the Aus-
tralian navy or a foreign navy, submarine construction would
inevitably wind down and the future of ASC would depend on
either reconstructing itself as a general shipbuilder and engineer-
ing contractor or securing its role in the long-term support and
maintenance of the submarines.
257
Even though one of the strongest arguments for building the

submarines in Australia had been that it would give the skills and
knowledge needed to support the submarines throughout their
life, the navy seems to have given remarkably little thought to
putting this admirable theory into practice and the early arrange-
ments for supporting the submarines were totally inadequate. This
appears to have been at least partly due to an unrealistic require-
ment that maintenance costs for the new submarines were to be
significantly lower than for the Oberon class. In practice it turned
out that the design aspects of Collins that reduced maintenance
requirements compared with Oberons were offset by complexity
of many of the systems, while issues like corrosion and marine
growth were no different for the new submarines.2
In one of many examples of largely wasted effort during the
course of the submarine project, in the early 1990s the project
office prepared detailed plans for the support and maintenance of
the submarines. Peter Hatcher and Paul Greenfield as ‘acceptance
into service and transition managers’ developed in-service support
plans and a contract and acquisition strategy, and tried to explain
to various navy organisations what it would take to support the
Collins class after delivery. In 1993 Greenfield briefed the navy
support command on the in-service support plans. The response
was: ‘Thanks very much, Paul, we’ll handle it from here.’3
The project office plans were ignored by the navy, and subma-
rine support became a series of ad hoc arrangements referred to
by the project office as ‘competitive at all costs’ because the work
always went to the cheapest bidder. ASC’s tenders were normally
uncompetitive (because its costs were higher) and it was called
in only when a problem was serious. Paul Greenfield recalls that
Hans Ohff kept some badly welded pipes on his desk at ASC to
show the poor quality of ‘back yard’ workmanship which pre-
vailed under the ‘competitive at all costs’ regime.
In January 1998 the navy support command finally gave ASC
a contract to maintain the submarines at their base in Western
Australia. This was a ‘time and materials’ contract and was only
sufficient to support a small team of engineers. There was no blue
collar workforce, with tradesmen being brought in on a contract
basis as required. Martin Edwards of ASC recalls that:
The navy was still coming to terms with what it meant to

have a submarine service, the crews were still learning about
THE PROJECT IN CRISIS 1997–98 259
the submarines and money was very short in the support

organisation. We were still having challenging technical
problems . . . and also the naval spares system was short of a
lot of Collins spares . . . I think there was also a lack of
understanding of the complexity of the Collins class
submarine compared to the Oberon class.
The equipment on the submarines was often serviced by people

with no knowledge of the design or expertise for the task. Greg
Stuart recalls an incident where there was a failure with a saltwater
system and they found it was caused by a local plumber who
had used brass fittings, which should never be used in a saltwater
environment.
Poor support and maintenance contributed to the early prob-
lems of the submarines, while the lack of a long-term sup-
port contract inevitably led to concerns for the future at ASC,
with staff asking what would happen when the last submarine
was completed. In early 1997 Hans Ohff announced that about
10 per cent of the company’s workforce would be laid off by the
end of the year and more would follow unless the government
ordered more submarines.4
The uncertainty at ASC was compounded by speculation over
the company’s ownership. The Coalition government elected in
1996 was committed to the privatisation of government-owned
businesses and it seemed probable that it would try to sell its
majority shareholding in ASC. In anticipation of a sale several con-
sortia began circling. On 6 June 1997 many newspapers reported
on a possible takeover of ASC by Transfield – led by Andrew
Johnson, formerly of SWSC and Computer Sciences – and several
months later John White, another prominent figure from the early
years of the project, reappeared leading a consortium with eyes
on ASC.5
There was also speculation in 1997 that Kockums or another
European defence company might be interested in a fully priva-
tised ASC. However, in late 1997 Ian McLachlan, the Defence
Minister, decided that the government should hold off selling its
shares until the problems with the submarines were resolved.
After enjoying several highly profitable years in the early stages
of the Australian submarine project, Kockums fell on hard times
as the 1990s progressed. The end of the Cold War (‘that peace
thing’, as one Swede plaintively described it to the authors) led
to a steep fall in Swedish defence spending, and Kockums did

not have the resources to develop new products and new ideas,
or to respond quickly to the design challenges thrown up by the
Australian submarine project. As design authority, Kockums was
required to authorise any design changes suggested to improve the
performance of the submarines, but ASC and the project office felt
constant frustration that the process was too slow.6
Like Kockums, the leader of the combat system consortium
also had serious problems. Rockwell’s defence business struggled
with the end of the Cold War and in 1996 it was sold to Boe-
ing. Boeing had no more success with the combat system than
Rockwell, and engaged Raytheon to give assistance. Raytheon,
which had extensive experience supplying tactical control systems
for American submarines, advised Boeing that the combat system
could only be delivered if there was significant ‘descoping of func-
tionality’. After reaching agreement with the Commonwealth on
reducing the requirements, Raytheon succeeded in stabilising the
system, allowing release 2.0 delivery to occur in late December
1999. In May 2000 Raytheon bought Boeing’s naval system divi-
sion, which included taking over the remainder of the original
combat system contract.
Under both Oscar Hughes and Geoff Rose the submarine
project office worked closely with ASC. This worked smoothly
while the navy kept its distance from the project, but from the
mid-1990s the navy became involved at two very different lev-
els. The crews were learning how to handle their new submarines
with their inadequate combat system and myriad mechanical fail-
ures, while the navy leadership was waking up to the looming
‘capability gap’ as the Oberons retired, as well as feeling the polit-
ical pressure arising from the media criticism of the submarines.
Both groups blamed ASC for their difficulties and the project
office was trapped in the crossfire. The navy saw the project as
being too close to ASC and unable to force ASC to fix the sub-
marines, while ASC did not seem to take the project office seri-
ously when it waved a big stick rather than proffering the usual
carrot.
In early 1997 Geoff Rose was peremptorily removed from
the project and retired from the navy. The new project director,
Eoin Asker, had been involved in the submarine project in its ear-
lier phases before running the successful mine-hunter project and
serving as head of naval construction. He recalls that navy chief

Rod Taylor asked him if he would like to take over the submarine
project, to which he replied, ‘I’m not a volunteer’, but he had little
choice in the matter.7
As submarine project director Asker felt ‘squeezed between
ASC, which says the submarine is ready but here is a list of defects,
and the politicians who are demanding “when can I make my
speech?”, and the chief of the navy, who says “I’ll sign off on it
even though I know it’s not ready but I need to get them to sea”’.
As a result, ‘everybody was trying to have a slice of me and I had
no power and bugger all money and hadn’t wanted the job in the
first place’.
When Asker took over, the navy was dissatisfied with the capa-
bilities of the submarines and the continuing mechanical failures;
the project appeared to be stalled and there was only $400 mil-
lion left in the budget. Unlike most in the navy he did not blame
ASC and Kockums for all the project’s problems, conceding that
in many areas of dispute, notably noise, the submarines met or
nearly met the contracted specifications but the navy’s operational
requirements had changed. Nonetheless his job was to get the
submarines to a level that met the navy’s minimum operational
requirements, and he would do this even if it involved a more
confrontational approach to ASC or seeking help from any source
that would give it.
The position of Hans Ohff was critical at this stage of the
project. To the navy, and increasingly to the project office, he
appeared to be stubbornly resisting their attempts to bring the
submarines to the minimum level required to carry out opera-
tions. Lawyers Paul Armarego and Wal Jurkiewicz recall their
amazement at the games that were played between the project
office and ASC over fixing faults in the submarines. This was the
‘TI338 regime’ and the process would ‘drag on for years’:
Commonwealth: ‘We are writing to advise X is a latent

defect.’
Hans Ohff: ‘We deny that.’
Commonwealth (a year later): ‘We still think it is a defect.’
Hans Ohff: ‘We deny that.’8

Ron Dicker believes that the ‘TI338 regime’ contributed to the dif-
ficulties between ASC and the project. The TI338 was the form on
which warranty defects were recorded and before anything could
be done they had to be evaluated to decide whether ASC or the
project would carry the cost. This resulted in endless arguments.
Dicker found it was not an efficient process for fixing the boats
and keeping them at sea. In other projects he had been involved
in there was a system whereby any defect was analysed and fixed,
and then the responsibility for it was arbitrated by an independent
body.
Many people in the navy and the project office tell of their
confrontations with Hans Ohff during this period. Peter Clarke,
who was project manager during 1998, deliberately set about pro-
ducing a harder, tougher relationship with Hans Ohff by insisting
on ASC meeting its milestones as ‘the overall project plan had
been lost sight of’. Although he had previously got on well with
Hans Ohff, within a few weeks of beginning his new job they were
shouting at each other: ‘Hans Ohff would say things like, “You’re
only taking this line to get yourself promoted”.’9 Clarke claims
that Hans Ohff ‘is the only man ever to have hung up on me – all
the others have been females,’ but that being said, they remained
friends throughout the project.
Hans Ohff’s attitude and motives are little understood and crit-
icisms of him are often made by people with little knowledge of
his full role in the submarine project. He had a greater emotional
commitment to the project than almost anyone else involved, and
those who might match him for commitment – like Oscar Hughes,
Graham White, Andy Millar and other long-serving members of
the project team – largely share his perspective on the problems of
the submarines. Ohff’s entire working life since he arrived in Aus-
tralia had been devoted to the development of Australian engineer-
ing, and for him building submarines in Australia was the great
nation-building project for his generation. He had been the first to
argue seriously that the submarines could be built in Australia, and
then devoted much time and money to spreading his vision to gov-
ernments and industry. Devastated when Eglo Engineering chose
the wrong side in the selection process, he saw his return to the
project as the opportunity to ensure its success. When he screamed
at the crew of a submarine returning to Osborne after a break-
down, ‘What have you done with my submarine?’ he expressed a
genuine feeling of ownership that was hard for senior navy person-
nel on two- or three-year rotations to comprehend. While Hans
Ohff always conceded that the submarines had teething difficul-
ties, particularly with the diesel engines, and that there were some
issues where compromises on performance were struck between
ASC and the project office, he genuinely believes that the prob-
lems were greatly exaggerated by anti-submarine elements in the
navy and by Coalition politicians looking to damage Kim Beazley.
For him, the navy and the politicians ‘took the elation out of the
project’.10
While the combat system remained the most intractable prob-
lem with the submarines during 1997 and 1998, on most other
issues there was clear if slow improvement, and some (such as the
leaking shaft seals) were dealt with completely. However, in 1998
a new issue developed with the propellers which proved difficult
to resolve and led to bitter recriminations between ASC, the navy
and Kockums.
For over a year there had been growing concern about cavi-
tation from the propellers and the usual disagreements between
ASC, which said the cavitation resulted from the way the sub-
marines were operated, and the navy, which blamed design and
manufacturing flaws. However, in August 1998 a crack was found
in Collins’ propeller during routine maintenance, and checks of
the other submarines revealed incipient cracking problems. Kock-
ums and ASC claimed there was nothing wrong with the design of
the propellers, but the Sonoston alloy demanded extremely pre-
cise manufacturing techniques and they accepted that some of the
early propellers were not made to the required standard. The navy
and the project office, however, believed that the problems were
more fundamental and argued that the propellers should be re-
designed. When Eoin Asker went overseas to look for advice, he
felt that Kockums was a company in crisis, its design expertise was
declining and its response to the problem was slow. In contrast
the Americans were keen to help, offering to remodel a propeller
to try on one of the Australian submarines.
In response to this offer, a Swedish-designed propeller was sent
to America. In Asker’s view ‘this was an operational imperative –
it would have taken ages for the Swedes to deal with it and it
wasn’t in Australia’s interest to muck around’. A second propeller
was sent later and a third in 2000.
The reaction from Kockums to the despatch of its propellers

to America was one of outraged disbelief that the navy would
disregard the company’s intellectual property rights. As Kurt Blixt
puts it: ‘All Swedes were deeply affronted when Australia gave
away Swedish know-how without consultation.’ They were even
more affronted when the propeller came back marked ‘Australian
and US eyes only’ and the Kockums people and even Hans Ohff
were not allowed to look at it. Hans Ohff recalls that when some
American engineers came to ASC to look at the propeller, he said
they could only look at the modified tips but not the rest of the
propellers. ‘I was only playing games with them but they went
right off.’
Within the navy there was full agreement on sending the
propeller to America. Peter Clarke states simply: ‘The Swedish
propeller was crook and as soon as we got a decent US propeller
the performance greatly improved.’ Civilians in the project office
were divided. Mark Gairey says: ‘I still think that if we had not
gone to the Americans we might still have found a solution, but
probably nowhere near as good a solution – the American solu-
tion basically solved all the problems with the propellers.’ How-
ever, his colleague Greg Stuart thought that the Americans did not
understand the Swedish design philosophy which the Collins class
was based on and they could do little to help. Further, he felt that
it was a clear breach of the contract to release a propeller to the
Americans. He agrees that Kockums was often intransigent at this
time ‘but with good reason’.11
The dispute over the propellers later merged with the wider
issue of the ownership of the intellectual property rights to the
design of the submarines, but the bitterness felt over the propellers
meant that the issue of intellectual property was discussed in an
atmosphere of distrust and recrimination.
The continued problems with the submarines and the increas-
ingly acrimonious disputes between the parties involved inevitably
caught the attention of the media, and during 1997 and 1998
the new submarine project was subjected to a barrage of press
criticism not experienced by a defence project since the F111s
in the 1960s. ‘Noisy as a rock concert’ must be one of the most
remembered headlines in recent Australian history, and it is almost
universally quoted by members of the public when asked about
the submarines.12 Even a decade later it is frequently quoted in
Melbourne Herald Sun, 28 July 1999 (Courtesy of Jeff Hook.)
articles on the submarines, often with the bald statement that it

came from a ‘secret US navy report’ on the submarines. For exam-
ple, on 27 March 2006, the Sydney Morning Herald reported that
the submarines ‘acquired the unflattering “dud subs” tag in 1998
after a leaked secret US Navy report said they were as “noisy as a
rock concert under water”’. This story has persisted in spite of offi-
cial denials that the phrase – or anything like it – ever appeared in
an official report.13 The headlines ‘Dud subs’ and ‘Sub-standard’
are almost as well known and also regularly reappear.
For the crews of the submarines and the staff of ASC and
the project office the impact of the ceaseless disparagement was
demoralising; for the navy hierarchy it was a daily reminder that
their largest project was under threat, but for the politicians it
suggested that there were political points to be won or lost.
Throughout the life of the Hawke and Keating Labor govern-
ments the submarine project received unwavering support from
the government. Kim Beazley left the Defence portfolio after the
1990 election, but his successor, Robert Ray, always staunchly
defended the project, most notably when it was the subject of
a highly critical audit report in 1992.14 The Labor Party had a
strong commitment to the project because it epitomised many
of its central themes in that era, such as national independence
in economic and defence policy and the encouragement of high-

technology manufacturing industries.
Following the election of the Coalition government in 1996 the
submarine project’s benign political environment rapidly turned
malignant. The project office and ASC had been accustomed to
being nurtured and protected by those who wielded political
power and it was a rude shock when this changed. The new gov-
ernment showed no feeling of ownership of the project and had
no hesitation in denigrating the submarines as a means of attack-
ing Kim Beazley, who was leader of the Labor Party from 1996 to
2001.
Members of the project team immediately noticed the change
in political attitudes. They felt that the government did not see the
success of the submarine project as vital for the defence of Aus-
tralia, but rather saw its difficulties as presenting an opportunity
for political point scoring. For Ken Grieg it was a great disap-
pointment that ‘instead of saying the submarines were a fabulous
achievement for Australia, the Coalition could only look at the
project in party political terms’. At ASC the government’s denigra-
tion of the submarine project contributed to a steady fall in morale
in the late 1990s and a breakdown in the relationship between
the company’s Swedish and Australian shareholders. Hans Ohff
believes the government was prepared to destroy the project if this
could help destroy Beazley.15
This interpretation of the government’s motives was not based
solely on paranoia. John Moore, who was Minister for Industry
in the Coalition’s first term before becoming a key figure in the
submarine story as Defence Minister in the second term, recalls
that: ‘The general view in the new government in 1996 led by
Max Moore-Wilton [the Secretary of the Department of Prime
Minister and Cabinet] was to close the project down and sell the
submarines for scrap.’
ASC and the project felt directly threatened when John
Howard appointed as Minister for Defence Ian McLachlan, who
was seen as an extreme economic rationalist committed to slashing
government expenditure.16 Hans Ohff believed that McLachlan
had been given the job ‘to dismantle the submarine project’. How-
ever, McLachlan was never an orthodox politician, being commit-
ted to an ideology rather than a party, and he did not play the party
game. After assessing his portfolio he became a great enthusiast
for the submarine project and, rather than dismantle the program,
he looked to extend it by taking the option in the contract to build
two more submarines.17
While McLachlan became a supporter of the new submarines,
during 1997 he was increasingly uneasy about the problems fac-
ing the project. Peter Jennings, his chief of staff, recalls that
McLachlan’s concerns were initially prompted by the navy’s
request for approval to refit two Oberons to keep them in service
until the new submarines finally arrived, and then his attention
was galvanised by the increasingly critical media coverage of the
project. By the end of 1997 he was looking for suggestions ‘to
bring the project to finality’.18
Before 1993 there was little interest in the submarine project at
the higher levels of the navy. Under Oscar Hughes the project was
like a medieval city state with nominal loyalty to its titular suzerain
but in fact operating independently and rejecting any interfer-
ence. Following Hughes’ retirement the navy moved to reduce
the project’s independence by downgrading the project director’s
position from two-star to one-star rank, but it took several years
before the navy began to accept any responsibility for the project
and longer still before it began to understand what was involved
in being the parent navy for the new submarines.
Rod Taylor, who was chief of the naval staff from 1994 to
1997, began to be concerned about the state of the project and
the suitability of the submarines for naval service. He was cau-
tious and conservative and concerned that there might be a royal
commission if things went wrong, so he began to document care-
fully the unfolding situation with the project, and set down the
major issues in papers that were considered by all the main defence
committees.19
However, the concerns in navy and defence at this stage appear
strangely academic, with no sense of ownership of the project, no
enthusiasm or excitement and no understanding of the magnitude
of the challenges that ASC and the project team faced. The Aus-
tralian navy and the Defence Department seem to have regarded
the submarines as if they were a standard product ordered from
a foreign shipyard. It only gradually dawned on them that ulti-
mately they were responsible for the submarines. If they did not
work as the navy wanted, then the navy must lead the way in
fixing them.
Many believe that the real source of the problems the navy had
in dealing with the submarine project was the anti-submarine feel-
ings common among surface sailors. There is a strong conviction
among submariners, ASC staff and members of the project office
that there was a strong faction in the navy opposed to the sub-
marine project and determined to make sure that the government
would never approve the construction of two more submarines.20
They believe that many of the critical media stories were based on
leaks from within the navy. One long-time project member says
that:
The thing that really got me in 1998 was that hardly a day
went by without the project getting a hammering in the press.
We did not deny that there were issues, but in most cases we
knew the solutions and were working towards them . . . The
stuff in the press was beyond belief. Journalists didn’t want to
know that what they were publishing was a load of nonsense.
I couldn’t understand why we had such a problem at the
time but I did find out years later why and that’s because of
where it was coming from. Now that’s one thing I won’t tell
you but suffice to say it was coming from a very senior
credible naval source who was doing it for his own political
reasons which were really to try to scuttle the submarine
project to get money to spend the money on surface ships.21
While the surface sailors see views like this as pure paranoia and
deny strenuously that they sabotaged the submarine project, the
fact that such views grew up and persisted is symptomatic of the
divisions and suspicions that bedevilled the project from the mid-
1990s.
In 1997 Don Chalmers followed Rod Taylor as chief of the
navy, and in February 1998 Paul Barratt succeeded Tony Ayers
as secretary of the Department of Defence. Barratt thought the
submarine project looked like many disparate projects with peo-
ple working hard but often at cross purposes, and he decided
that one of his priorities must be to draw it all together. Working
closely with Don Chalmers, Garry Jones of the Defence Acqui-
sition Organisation, and Richard Brabin-Smith, the chief defence
scientist, agreement was reached on the steps to take, most notably
that the US navy should be asked to help.22
When Don Chalmers took over as chief of the navy he found

that the role had changed greatly as a result of the defence effi-
ciency review, and he had far fewer staff and less power within the
defence establishment than his predecessor. His chief staff officer,
Paddy Hodgman, observes that Chalmers saw one of his main
tasks as being to tackle what he viewed as a crisis with the sub-
marine project, to ensure that the navy received a capable sub-
marine force in time to replace the Oberons. The submarine
project quickly moved from something that was being observed
and documented at a distance to being a central concern of navy
headquarters.
This was the situation when Chalmers visited America early in
1998:
Whenever I was there they’d ask how the submarine was
going and I’d give a fairly non-committal answer. But we
came to the stage where we really weren’t getting anywhere
with this noise and we clearly needed some help. There were
some navy to navy talks and I made the decision – and I didn’t
discuss it with the CDF [chief of the defence force] or the
secretary (as a matter of fact I didn’t even tell my deputy) –
that I would talk with the deputy chief of the US navy about
the issues that we had with the submarine. We met on a
Monday morning . . . and I said: ‘We’ve got a noise problem
with the submarines and the combat system doesn’t work.’
Within two days I got a message back from the CNO [chief
of naval operations] that he would provide any help they
could and asked if he could send out his expert, Admiral Phil
Davis. So there was immediate help on the way and Phil was
here by the following week.23
A former commander of two nuclear attack submarines, from

1996 Phil Davis was in charge of all American submarine devel-
opment and construction. He recalls that immediately following
Chalmers’ request for help, the chief of the navy told him and
Admiral Dick Riddell to go to Australia to look at the submarines
and advise what could be done, with authority to offer any and
all assistance.24
The two specific issues the Americans were asked about were
the noise problems and the combat system. After talks with the
navy, DSTO and ASC, Davis agreed with the navy’s view that ‘the
boats’ radiated noise while submerged in various modes was not at

the level they thought they asked for’. Davis felt there was enough
data to show that there was a noise issue with the submarines
sufficient ‘to make them not worthy for combat’. To Davis the
acoustic data showed that hull form and fluid flow was the main
cause of noise, with the propeller and shafting contributing to the
overall noise signature, and he offered to analyse the noise at the
Carderock naval testing centre, with a view to suggesting design
changes and modifications to both the hull form and the propeller
design.
When the Americans looked at the combat system, they saw
it was not functional to the design specifications – the ships were
safe to operate but they could not carry out missions or perform
to their full capability. Davis thought the architecture was not
fundamentally flawed but the technology was lacking to achieve
the requirements and he concluded that short of a major redesign
he could not offer a ready fix to make it work. Nonetheless, Davis
directed Dr John Short, a leading defence scientist, to ‘drop what
he was doing and go to Australia to do a dedicated investigation of
the Australian combat system’. Short verified Davis’s assessment
that ‘the manufacturer was not going to get the system fixed ever’.
However, in America’s own submarine program they had made a
series of improvements to a combat system by adding on ‘black
boxes’ to improve the capability without building a whole new
combat system. Short looked at these with the idea of giving the
Australian system enough improvements so the submarines could
function adequately, while acknowledging that this was purely a
short-term fix. This was the basis of the augmentation program
that was installed on Dechaineux and Sheean during 2000.
While there had been requests from the Australian navy to the
American navy for help and advice on technical issues for many
years, before the 1996 election these tended to be informal and
the response was mixed. In contrast, the approach from Admi-
ral Chalmers was strongly endorsed at a political level and met
with a prompt and enthusiastic response from the Americans. The
submarine project had been seen as epitomising the ideology of
the Hawke and Keating Labor governments, which in economic
policy were committed to building up a high-technology manu-
facturing sector, in foreign policy to developing closer ties to Asia
and reducing dependence on the United States, and in military
policy emphasising the defence of Australia. The change of gov-

ernment in 1996 led to significant changes: the government effec-
tively abandoned any industry policy; foreign policy returned to its
traditional focus on the bilateral relationship with America, with
the enthusiastic adoption of the role as America’s ‘deputy sheriff’
in the region; and the strategic focus of the armed forces shifted
from the defence of Australia to ‘forward defence’, a euphemism
for enthusiastic participation in American foreign policy adven-
tures. One of many consequences of the new political situation
was that the government would far prefer to look to America
than to Europe for help with the submarine project.
The Americans ascribe their willingness to help to the strength
of the alliance and the close relationships between Don Chalmers
and senior American naval officers – ‘We just wanted to help
you Aussies’.25 However, many observers think that the changing
global strategic situation following the end of the Cold War led
the Americans to become far more interested in conventional sub-
marines. During the Cold War America’s focus was entirely on the
‘blue water’ threat of Russia’s nuclear submarines, but as it shifted
towards regional instability and terrorism in the 1990s, Australia’s
submarine force with its expertise in shallow water surveillance
became more relevant.26 Further, there have been regular sugges-
tions that the Americans might be interested in the Collins class
with the idea of providing conventional submarines for Taiwan.27
With help on the way from America and confidence that Aus-
tralian and Swedish ‘fixes’ were under way for the other problems,
the leading players in 1997 and 1998 – chief of the navy, Don
Chalmers, Secretary for Defence, Paul Barratt, head of the Defence
Acquisition Organisation, Garry Jones, and project director, Eoin
Asker – believed that they had charted a viable way forward for
the submarine project. They were confident that the problems had
been identified and the solutions were in place. For example, Garry
Jones said in evidence to the Joint Committee on Public Accounts
and Audit on 5 March 1999: ‘We have got a few problems to
work our way through, but already a very clear outcome can be
agreed.’28
However, the resolution was not to be so straightforward. The
issue which provoked the next crisis was the refusal to accept the
third submarine, HMAS Waller, into naval service.29 Collins and
Farncomb had already been provisionally accepted, with a large
number of defects later becoming the subject of dispute between

ASC and the navy. Don Chalmers says it was hard to see that any
progress was being made with overcoming these defects and he
felt it was critical to force ASC to act. Consequently:
Very soon after I became chief of navy we accepted the

second submarine but at that stage I made it clear to Hans
Ohff that I would not be accepting the third submarine
unless there was significant progress on the issues.
Showing a far greater level of involvement in the project than his

predecessors, Chalmers set up monthly meetings with Ohff ‘to
discuss progress’, and on 22 April 1998 he laid down the navy’s
minimum requirements for the acceptance of Waller.30 Through-
out 1998 ASC worked to meet these requirements, with the pro-
jected delivery date being regularly put back.
Eventually ASC believed that it had met all the requirements
and formally delivered Waller to the Defence Acquisition Organ-
isation, but the navy refused to accept the submarine from the
DAO. Hans Ohff’s version of the episode is that:
Among other things Chalmers demanded 50 hours

uninterrupted performance by the diesels before he would
accept Waller. ASC met that and everything else he had asked
for but he still did not accept it. I took the attitude that ASC
had done all it was meant to and that the submarine was now
DAO’s [Defence Acquisition Organisation] responsibility – so
I wrote them a letter saying they were in breach of contract
and that I would charge them $100 000 a day. There was no
response so I sent them bills and they were furious.
An engineering admiral had to sign off before Garry Jones
[head of DAO] would accept the submarines. I went to see
Jones and said the bill for the submarine is now $7.5 million.
Jones understood the contract and knew I was in the right so
he organised a meeting where it was agreed that the
conditions were all met and he said he’d accept the
submarines. The Commonwealth eventually paid about half
the bill we had sent them.
I would never have behaved like that with a normal
client – it was a vindictive move that I only did because I was
totally disgusted with the political games that were being

played with the project.
Lawyers Paul Armarego and Wal Jurkiewicz, who later reviewed

the issue when advising the Commonwealth, considered that:
The late acceptance claim with Waller was amazing. There
was no way the ASC could meet the original date because
there were so many defects so the date kept getting pushed
back. When the date finally came there were still a large
number of defects so the Commonwealth did not accept it
and tried to negotiate to have the defects fixed. ASC then hit
the Commonwealth with a late acceptance claim. The
Commonwealth did not take advice on this. ASC had no legal
claim at all but the Commonwealth still paid them . . . The
Commonwealth snatched defeat from the jaws of victory.
There are two diametrically opposed views on the consequences

of the refusal to accept Waller. Peter Briggs contends that ‘The
fixing process all started with Chalmers saying “No!” and Paddy
Hodgman thinks ‘the refusal to accept Waller really made a dif-
ference because they got some seriously hard work toward what
might be a minimal level of acceptability for the combat system
to allow the vessel to be used’. In contrast, Terry Roach believes
that ‘it was a very bad move to refuse to accept delivery of the
submarine as it gave credence to all the stories of their inadequa-
cies’. This view is shared by Hugh White, a deputy secretary in
the Defence Department at the time, who says the declaration that
the submarine was unacceptable moved the project almost directly
from ‘suffering difficulties’ to being ‘in a crisis’. In his view it was
almost as if the navy itself had declared the project ‘in crisis’ and
he saw this as stemming from the fact that the navy did not feel
that it owned the submarines.
Ian McLachlan retired as Defence Minister at the 1998 fed-
eral election. His successor, John Moore, took seriously the navy’s
declaration that the project was in crisis and acted on it, with dra-
matic consequences for many careers. Of all the leading characters
in the Collins story, only Hans Ohff attracts more strongly held
opinions – both for and against – than John Moore.
CHAPTER 23
‘Bayoneting the wounded’: the
McIntosh-Prescott report
John Moore was a successful stockbroker, long-time strong man of

the Queensland Liberal Party and Minister for Industry in the first
Howard government from 1996 to 1998. The submarine project
was not then in his bailiwick, but he thought ‘it had all the signs
of a project that was out of control’. After the federal election of
October 1998 he became Minister for Defence, expecting that this
would be his last portfolio before he retired from politics. He was
appalled by what he saw as the unbusinesslike management of the
Defence Ministry and soon came to the conclusion that ‘no finan-
cial figures from defence are correct’. In his first year the books
were not within $700 million and he asked a senior official what
he should do. ‘Just write it off’, he was told. Every defence project
was over time and over budget and he was given lists of overruns
to approve as a matter of routine. He was continually asked to
allocate more money and told that it would not affect the budget.
The department had three different accounting systems running
more than 60 computer programs, with innumerable consultants
working on them. He was disappointed with the management
abilities of senior military leaders and felt that the policy of short
rotations meant that few of them had a firm grasp on their jobs.
274
THE MCINTOSH-PRESCOTT REPORT 275
The military seemed to have the attitude that the minister’s role
was to get money from the parliament and then leave them to
spend it free of supervision or control. The navy in particular, he
felt, had ‘a delightful indifference to government’.1
From the beginning Moore was wary of the advice he was
given by the department and looked for counsel to Sir Malcolm
McIntosh, then chief executive of the CSIRO. A career public
servant, McIntosh had been involved in the submarine project as
a deputy secretary of defence in charge of acquisitions in the late
1980s before achieving fame and a knighthood as head of defence
procurement in the United Kingdom from 1991 to 1996. Moore
found McIntosh ‘was a source of enormous comfort in explaining
complex matters in a way that was easy to understand’.
At the time he became minister there was enormous publicity
about the problems with the submarines and ‘the Americans were
poking their noses in the project and wondering what was hap-
pening’. Malcolm McIntosh told him there was a major problem
with the submarine project and ‘the whole thing is out of con-
trol and needs a broom through it’. Consequently Moore asked
the secretary of the department, Paul Barratt, for a report on the
submarines to explain why they were built, what was wrong with
them, how they were going to be fixed, and how much it would
cost. The report came back but Moore saw it as ‘a complete white-
wash’ so he asked for further reports – one to be signed by Barratt
and Chris Barrie, the chief of the defence force, to confirm that they
both agreed the answers were correct – but in Moore’s view they
were ‘all whitewashes’. Moore showed the reports to Malcolm
McIntosh, who agreed that they skated over the surface of the
problems. Asked what should be done, McIntosh said: ‘Appoint
me to investigate.’
Not surprisingly, Paul Barratt has a different perspective on
these events. Even before the new ministry was announced, it had
been suggested to him that he might like to move from defence,
but he rejected this as he enjoyed defence and saw much that
needed to be done. When Moore was appointed, Barratt and Chris
Barrie asked when they could brief the new minister, but were
told this would not be necessary, and when the new minister met
the departmental executive a few days later he was continually
quoting Malcolm McIntosh on the deficiencies of the department
and how to fix them.
Melbourne Herald Sun, 28 June 2000 (Courtesy of Jeff Hook.)
As requested, Barratt and Barrie prepared reports on the sub-

marine project setting out the situation as they saw it and the way
forward that had been developed during the first half of 1998.
Barratt recalls that when one of the reports was presented, Moore
said he wanted more on the history of the project and less on the
way forward, saying he was determined to ‘get to the bottom’ of
the Collins story.
Paul Barratt is convinced that John Moore and his chief of
staff, Brian Loughnane, saw the submarine project in largely polit-
ical terms and were determined to use the project’s problems as
a way of embarrassing Kim Beazley. He recalls saying to Lough-
nane that the minister should go on one of the submarines, and
being amazed when Loughnane replied: ‘He’s not going to do that
because someone from the media might take a picture and then
they would become Moore’s submarines rather than Beazley’s.’
To Barratt, the involvement of Malcolm McIntosh as an unof-
ficial adviser to the minister was ‘extraordinarily improper’ and
‘crazy public administration – a recipe for a complete breakdown
of trust and accountability, and ultimately for chaos’. The conse-
quence was that McIntosh was providing the advice, but Barratt
was responsible for the outcome.2
The chief of the navy, Don Chalmers, held similar views to Paul
Barratt on John Moore’s approach. He says:
My view is that he took a very political stand on the
submarine. This was a Bomber Beazley contract – it wasn’t
working and he was going to get as much political mileage
out of it as he could. He wanted a submarine that worked
but he was going to get as much as he could out of it.
. . . I quite often had difficulty talking with him. I didn’t
get on with his chief of staff so I didn’t get in the door . . . As
we moved ahead talking to the minister about the submarine
became really difficult . . . On one occasion he told me that
he got more information on the Collins class from his
newsagent than he did from navy briefings. It was a prickly
relationship, one might say.
One important factor in the relationship between the navy and the
minister is that John Moore always had a struggle with dyslexia.
He found reading difficult and preferred to get information ver-
bally or in a one-page précis. The lengthy reports sent to him by
the department and the navy went unread, while those with the
gift of succinctness like Malcolm McIntosh gained his attention.
Garry Jones, Eoin Asker, Paul Barratt and the admirals believed
that they understood the problems with the submarine project and
were confident that, with American help, they had developed a
viable plan to overcome them. Their problem was that the minister
did not believe them.
Convinced he was not being told the full story by the navy and
the Defence Department, in March 1999 John Moore decided to
follow Malcolm McIntosh’s advice and appointed him to inves-
tigate. As McIntosh was already terminally ill, Moore appointed
John Prescott, formerly managing director of BHP, to work with
him on the report.
Paul Greenfield was selected to support the investigation and
provide technical submarine knowledge. After several years work-
ing on the submarine project based in Adelaide, he had recently
been appointed to command HMAS Cerberus at Flinders, but he
had not been there two months when he was told he had been cho-
sen to help McIntosh and Prescott. He went very much against his
will as he felt it would be a disastrous career move – he recalls a
navy colleague telling him, ‘I see you’re part of the Tainted Team’!
However, it turned out to be a highly educational experience that

‘recalibrated’ his views on the submarine project.
Greenfield is convinced that McIntosh and Prescott were not
party to any ‘Get Beazley’ plot. He recalls Prescott saying, ‘I’m
going to be honest and tell it as it is – I don’t have any barrows to
push’ and McIntosh agreeing, saying: ‘I’ve had a good career, I’m
dying of cancer and I’m going to lay it on the line.’
The report was due by 30 June 1999 so, allowing time for writ-
ing and printing, the actual investigation had to be completed in
about 10 weeks. The report lists 53 interviewees from the navy,
from ASC and other military related industries, Kockums and
its parent company Celsius, from defence science and the defence
bureaucracy. The only significant gaps appeared to be that neither
Paul Barratt nor Chris Barrie (the chief of the defence force) was
interviewed3 and Eoin Asker was the sole interviewee from the
project team. John Prescott recalls that they found general agree-
ment on the facts and even on the fixes needed but there were few
ideas on how to make them happen.
By coincidence or otherwise, an extraordinary flurry of adverse
stories appeared in the press and on television in the weeks before
the release of the McIntosh-Prescott report. The most damaging of
these was a report on Four corners on ABC television on 24 May
1999. The tone of this report was established in the first sentence,
which talked of ‘the scandalous state of the navy’s new Collins
class submarines’, and it mounted a scathing attack on almost
every aspect of the project from the selection of Kockums to the
submarines’ noise and combat system problems. Many of the most
sensational claims were made by the recently-retired Commodore
Mick Dunne, whose appearance startled many of his former col-
leagues, most of whom were unaware how anti-Collins his views
were. While the program made use of brief sound bites carefully
edited to make defenders of the project look foolish, Dunne’s tes-
timony taken as a whole was damning for the submarine project:
I had access to performance information on the Collins class

submarine specifically in my last job as the Director of Naval
Plans and Policy in Canberra. And I spent the last three
months I was in the Navy producing a document for the
Chief of the Navy as to what might be done to recover some
of the situation . . .
The Collins class submarine is a superb piece of

engineering and it’s a great submarine if you just want to roar
around the ocean, but as far as having the operational
capabilities that are much more important, this submarine
falls down in that area.
All you’ve got to do is look at the bulges and shape of the
exterior of the boat to realise that at any sort of speed, you
are going to get turbulence and eddies and noise that both
affect your ability to hear your opposition or your targets,
and give away your own position . . .
The man with the fastest draw – or the submarine with the
fastest computer solution – is going to win the showdown,
and unfortunately the chances of the system in the Collins
coping with that fast moving situation is not very good.
It’s going to be very difficult to deploy this submarine
operationally until substantial work is done to fix the
acoustic problem.
Interviewer: How long do you think that’ll take?
Dunne: Well, other nations have tried to retrospectively fix
acoustic signatures without success. My worst fear for the
Collins is that we’ll lose one, because of the shortcomings
that the submarine has got in its sensor and processing
capabilities.
Interviewer: When you say, ‘we’ll lose one’, what do you
mean?
Dunne: I mean that one will have an accident if we haven’t
done something seriously about reducing their noise
signature and increasing their ability to use their own
sonar systems, we’ll have an accident.
Interviewer: What kind of accident could you foresee
happening?
Dunne: Oh, running into a surface ship as the submarine
comes from deep up to periscope depth, when it has to use
speed to come up through layers of water, when by using
that speed, it can’t hear a frigate that is making very, very
little noise.
Interviewer: Why can’t it hear?
Dunne: It can’t hear it because by using speed itself to move
through the water the turbulence around the hull reduces
the capability of your own passive sonars to hear. It’s like
trying to use your ears to hear a faint noise while

somebody is ringing a bell next to your nose. They’re the
sorts of things that could and can happen.4
Mick Dunne is adamant that he did not say anything on television

that he had not told the navy, and that while in the navy he had
never leaked anything to the newspapers. He admits he has a slant
on the Collins story and a view that may have been misinterpreted,
but he holds his views strongly. He believes that the project had
acquired a life of its own and that many people had become depen-
dent on it, so attacking the project was attacking their livelihoods –
their careers and their pensions were threatened.
One of Dunne’s motives for speaking out publicly on the
Collins project was to put pressure on McIntosh and Prescott ‘to
get it right’. In this he need not have been overly concerned, as
the views of the investigators seemed to be developing along the
same lines as his own. McIntosh himself said on Four corners that
the submarines could barely go to sea safely ‘and you certainly
couldn’t possibly go to war in [them]’.
While few, if any, people with knowledge of the project shared
all of Dunne’s concerns, many of his misgivings were widely held
in the navy. Further, the interviews on Four corners emphasised
the differences between the navy and ASC on the noise signatures
of the submarines and cast doubt on the credibility of the defend-
ers of the project. Most importantly, the public airing of Dunne’s
views on national television and their apparent credibility rein-
forced John Moore’s determination to take firm control of the
submarine project while greatly weakening the project’s defend-
ers. The overwhelming public view was that the submarines were
seriously flawed and the kudos for a politician lay in fixing them
rather than defending them.
It was in this atmosphere that the McIntosh-Prescott report
was released on 1 July 1999. The authors stated that their task
was not to probe into the past or ascribe responsibility for any
failures, but to examine the problems and put forward ways to
solve them. They emphasised that:
Notwithstanding the well-publicised technical problems,
much good work has been done. In fact almost everyone we
met was totally committed to the project and doing what
they believed would bring maximum benefit – at least within
their terms of reference and responsibilities. Rather the

difficulties we will describe stem from a lack of overarching
capacity to deal with the scale and complexity involved,
given the changes in mission and technology that should have
been recognised as inevitable in a project of this ambition
and duration.5
The report concluded that ‘the essential and visible problem with
the Collins Class submarines is that they cannot perform at the lev-
els required for military operations’. It acknowledged that in some
high-risk areas such as the high tensile steel, the Australian weld-
ing and the ship control and management system, the submarines
‘exceeded expectations’ and that some serious defects such as the
propeller shaft seals had been fixed. The authors also accepted
that some technical deficiencies were inevitable ‘in a new class of
equipment as complex as a submarine’, but they were ‘astonished
at how many there still are some 6 years after the first boat was
launched, the range and extent of them, the seriousness of some
of them, the areas in which they have occurred, and how slowly
they are being remedied’.
The report identified the most serious remaining defects as
the diesel engines, noise, propellers, periscopes and masts, and
the combat system. While accepting that on some issues such as
noise there were significant differences between ‘the contracted
requirements and the Navy’s current operational requirements’,
McIntosh and Prescott concluded that there were serious defi-
ciencies in the design and manufacture of the submarines. The
authors also accepted that in some areas, such as the propellers
and periscopes, problems were due in part at least to inappropriate
requirements, notably the use of Sonoston for the propellers.
McIntosh and Prescott emphasised that the combat system was
the central problem:
Basically the system does not work, the quality of
information from individual sensors has been compromised
and their display on screen is inferior to that of the signals
actually processed. Relatively routine interrogation of targets
causes failures in the displays and inordinate delays occur in
bringing multiple sets of information together in the manner
planned. The number of targets that can be dealt with at one
time is far less than specified or required. In fact the tracking,
classification and display of sonar targets is less effective than

on the Oberon class. No overall satisfactory solution is yet
committed.
They argued that these problems arose from the unique military
specifications and the decision to include the combat system with
the platform in the single prime contract, with the subsequent
refusal to change course or modify the contract. In contrast,
Britain and the United States both started down the same path
in the 1980s but later moved to structure their systems around
commercial, off-the-shelf technology.
Looking at the causes of the problems with the submarine
project, McIntosh and Prescott saw deficiencies in the structure
of the contract, notably the difficulty of negotiating changes, the
small contingency and the combination of performance specifica-
tions with some detailed specifications as to how the performance
should be achieved. They also saw a lack of overall direction and
understanding of the aims of the project6 and conflicts of interest
in the ownership structure of ASC, which had led to a situation
like trench warfare with all parties being ‘far more antagonistic,
defensive, uncooperative and at cross-purposes than should be the
case in a project like this’.
McIntosh and Prescott accepted that fixes were already under
way for most of the mechanical problems such as the diesel
engines, noise and propellers, but saw the combat system as more
of a challenge. In their view there was no hope that the combat sys-
tem could ever ‘be transformed to an effective performance level’
and recommended that it be replaced with a ‘proven in-service’
system based on commercial off-the-shelf equipment.
There was one rather strange reaction to the project. While the
media and opponents of the project leapt on the headline state-
ments such as ‘are bedevilled by a myriad of design deficiencies’, a
surprisingly large number of people close to the project, but with
widely differing views, claimed to have authored large parts of
the report or at least to have provided the inspiration for much
of it. Mick Dunne claims that ‘the McIntosh-Prescott review was
almost transcribed directly from a document I did for Chalmers at
the end of 1997’. Similarly, John Dikkenberg says: ‘They basically
came and took our report and 70, 80 per cent of what they wrote
in their thing came directly from our analysis.’ Again, Paul Barratt
states: ‘In the end the famous report which the government always
refers to as independent is little more than a version of the report
that I had earlier given to the minister – the difference was that
my report was classified “Secret” and could not be released.’ The
willingness of people to claim authorship suggests that the find-
ings of the report were not controversial – most people connected
with the project agree that the report raised nothing new.
Yet the government presented the report as ground-breaking
and the media reacted similarly. John Moore says:
The report came back from McIntosh-Prescott – it was

51 pages and blew the whole thing apart. Barratt said ‘That’s
what we said,’ but this was nonsense. McIntosh-Prescott in
six weeks had identified 257 points where there were
problems with the submarines and presented a way to go
forward.
In contrast to earlier reports, the McIntosh-Prescott report was

simple, clear and public. It also set out a plan for fixing the
problems it identified. The reaction of the press and the public
was, as John Moore and his chief of staff, Brian Loughnane, no
doubt anticipated, one of incredulity at the plight of the submarine
project combined with appreciation of the government’s determi-
nation to define the problems and find solutions. These themes
were clear when John Moore was interviewed by Kerry O’Brien
on ABC television the day the report was released:
Kerry O’Brien: But what does it say that it’s taken this long
to actually bring together all of the things that people have
either known about or expected for so long – diesel
engines, noise, sonar, combat system, as you say. Even the
periscope shakes.
John Moore: Well, there are certainly a number of
complaints there and problems, but I think all of those can
be fixed, and my job is to make sure these submarines are
fully operational and in the sea as quickly as possible,
because they are very important to Australian defence.
Kerry O’Brien: But what does it say about the people who
have been monitoring this, who have been responsible for
this whole submarine program from the outset, that this
extraordinary litany of faults are still there, this far into it?
John Moore: Well, it says that management can be and

should be improved. It does say that some of the
supervision was probably not up to scratch in the past and
I’m looking forward to some significant improvement.7
The reaction to the report from people connected with the project
varied greatly. In most, but not all, cases the response was pre-
dictable. The navy hierarchy and the upper echelons of defence
were angry and perplexed. They believed they had been giving
the minister essentially the same message as the report since he
took office and could not comprehend that they were now blamed
for not telling him. They did not argue with the report’s findings
because it was their contention that they had been saying the same
things.
One exception to this is the view of Paddy Hodgman, Don
Chalmers’ chief staff officer. He saw a number of the findings, par-
ticularly on the combat system, as ‘fundamentally flawed’, with
the report overall deferring too much to grand political gestures
rather than what was best for the submarines. In his view the
report led to delay and waste. Hodgman is particularly critical of
the recommendation to scrap the combat system as ‘we hadn’t fin-
ished testing the fixes’ suggested by the Americans, so ‘we didn’t
know what we were throwing away’. Similarly, Andrew John-
son believes it would have been cheaper and easier to make the
existing combat system work than to start again. Otherwise, he
thought the McIntosh-Prescott report quite competent, though in
the atmosphere of the late 1990s ‘it was a bit like bayoneting the
wounded’.
The Kockums’ perspective on the report is that it is ‘a mixed
bag of flaws with no analysis as to their seriousness’. Except for
the combat system (which was not their responsibility), the Swedes
felt that the problems with the submarines were ‘small and what
you would expect with any new design’.8
The general view of the report among submariners is that it was
a fair analysis of the situation of the submarine project. While the
report did not say anything new, it acted as a ‘circuit breaker that
was desperately needed to turn the project around’.9 This view
had some support within ASC. Martin Edwards recalls:
[Although] it was obviously being done to achieve an
outcome, I think most people who had spent 10 or 12 years
of their working lives committed to the project would hope

for some positive outcome from the report. They may not
have agreed with every line in it but most people still believed
it would achieve something or at least provide the base to
improve the situation. Most people recognised that there
were political means and ends that were trying to be achieved,
but I think people felt it was done on a pretty fair basis.
The other way to look at it is if it hadn’t been done,
where would we have been? On the same basis and the same
adversarial footing. It gave the opportunity to change.
While the McIntosh-Prescott report avoided laying blame for the

failings it identified in the submarine project, John Moore had no
such compunction. He believed that the Defence Department and
the navy hierarchy had continually tried to hide the truth about the
submarines and they needed to be thoroughly cleaned out. Within
a few months Garry Jones had left, Paul Barratt was sacked and
Don Chalmers became the first navy chief in many years not to
have his first term extended. Further, Moore looked for Chalmers’
replacement to one of the most junior admirals, David Shackleton.
Naval convention was that a senior officer would resign if he was
passed over for promotion by someone junior to him in the list, so
Moore effectively removed most of the navy’s most senior leaders.
Shortly before Don Chalmers’ two-year appointment came to
an end, the minister told him that his term would not be extended.
Chalmers recalls that: ‘I asked him to tell me why and he said there
were three reasons and one of these was, “I recognise what you’ve
done for the submarine, but it was too little, too late and someone
has to wear it”. Those were his words.’
Chris Oxenbould was Chalmers’ deputy and would normally
have been in the best position to succeed him. However, as he
recalls, John Moore told him that he would not be appointed
as ‘it would just be more of the same’. Explaining the rationale
behind his decision, Moore criticised the navy for being the silent
service and not keeping him informed, and said he would have to
dig deep to get new blood to reform the service.
Paul Barratt recalls that Moore had been pressuring him for
some time to sack Garry Jones but Barratt refused as he was happy
with Jones’ performance, and under the Public Service Act the
minister had no right to interfere in departmental appointments at
that level. However, once Barratt went, Jones soon followed. The
McIntosh-Prescott report recommended upgrading the position
of head of procurement, suggesting that the new head come from
the private sector, and this provided the justification for removing
Jones.
Barratt’s own appointment was terminated at the end of August
1999. He did not go quietly but fought a lengthy court action
alleging wrongful dismissal. The final result of the case was that
the court decided ministers could sack departmental heads for no
reason and did not need to justify their decision.
As Kerry O’Brien noted when interviewing John Moore after
the release of the McIntosh-Prescott report, the minister seemed
very calm in the face of a ‘diabolical’ report on the state of his
department’s largest project. But Moore saw the problems as being
Beazley’s problems, not his own. His task was to sell the solution,
not excuse the problems. The centrepiece of his program to fix
the submarines was to appoint Peter Briggs to head a new team to
‘fast-track’ the work needed to make the submarines operational.
As Moore said: ‘Admiral Briggs is the most senior submariner in
Australia and I have no doubt he will play a very prominent part
in getting all this up and going.’10
CHAPTER 24
‘That villain Briggs’ and the submarine
‘get-well’ program
In the early 1980s Peter Briggs was one of the driving forces in
drawing up the ambitious requirements for the new submarines,
but from 1985 his postings took him away from the project, and in
the 1990s away from submarines altogether as he held a succession
of senior positions, concluding with appointment as head of the
strategic command division in 1997. In mid-1999 he was among
the contenders to replace Don Chalmers as chief of the navy. When
he was passed over as chief he began planning his retirement,
but put this on hold when he was asked to take charge of the
submarine project with the task of ‘achieving a fully operational
and sustainable submarine capability as quickly as possible’. He
‘came into the job with nothing to lose, a problem to solve and
a nicely defined period to do it in’ and felt that this ‘suited my
personality of quick answers and no prisoners between here and
there’.1
John Moore believed that the project had been strangled by
committees, with nobody accepting responsibility, and he wanted
one person to take charge, with wide powers and reporting directly
to the minister. Consequently Peter Briggs was given power to
cut through red tape, let contracts without going through the
287
committee system and direct resources as he thought best. He

wrote his own terms of reference and ‘whatever I wanted I got’.
Briggs quickly assembled his ‘submarine capability team’,
including former submariners Paul Greenfield (directly from the
McIntosh-Prescott report), Mark Merrifield and Richard Walters,
navy supply officer Bob Brown, and Geoff Robinson from the
RAAF, who had served as Briggs’ principal staff officer and was
‘used to the way I worked’. Several consultants worked closely
with the team, notably Peter Horobin (another reappearance!),
public relations expert Stephanie Paul, change facilitator Alan
Ward and lawyers Paul Armarego and Wal Jurkiewicz.
The central aim of Briggs’ team was to ‘fast-track’ work on
Dechaineux and Sheean to ensure they met a ‘minimum opera-
tional capability’ by the end of 2000, and get the program estab-
lished to achieve six fully capable submarines as soon as possible.2
The strategy was driven by the fact that the certification of the last
Oberon, Otama, would expire in December 2000 and the fast-
track plan meant that two submarines would be ready to replace
it. Briggs saw ‘fast track’ as a ‘temporary but necessary strategy
to get some submarine capability as quickly as possible, demon-
strate that the fixes would work and give heart to the people out
in the submarines that something was being done to solve the
problems’.
Using the McIntosh-Prescott report as a starting point, the
capability team prepared a submission to cabinet setting out what
was required to make all six submarines fully operational and how
much it would cost. Although John Moore had set up the capa-
bility team and committed himself to fixing the submarines, there
was no guarantee that cabinet would approve the submission.
Peter Briggs recalls attending a meeting of the national security
committee of cabinet in October 1999 where some ministers were
saying: ‘These are flops, they’re a disaster, let’s scrap them and
hang it all on Beazley’s head.’ Briggs thought they were looking
at the issue from a purely political point of view and there was no
understanding of the issues or resolve to press on with the project.
Nonetheless Moore was able to force the matter through cabinet
and the money was allocated.
John Moore is widely criticised by many involved with
the submarine project, but without his strong support at this
stage the project could easily have been abandoned. He was a
‘THAT VILLAIN BRIGGS’ 289
politician so it would be a surprise if he was not prepared to use

the submarines for political purposes, but he did this by show-
ing that he could fix ‘Labor’s mistakes’. He allocated more than
$1 billion for improvements to the submarines and it is hard to
see why supporters of the project attack him for this.
Peter Briggs believed his first step was to fix the relationships,
‘to get people out of the trenches and back working together’.
He saw the whole project as being at an impasse because the
relationships between ASC, Kockums, the project office and the
navy had broken down, with communication between them being
largely through lawyers. To address this he set up several forums
covering different aspects of the project and including people from
all the organisations involved, with a ‘submarine alliance board’ to
coordinate activities. Early on, two 3-day conferences were held –
one at Mount Macedon in Victoria, where all the main figures
got together and ‘fought it out for three days’, and another at
Glenelg in South Australia for people at the next level down. The
message Briggs gave was: ‘You’re either with me or you’re against
me. Either you do what you have to or I’ll find someone who
will.’3
Public relations were an important part of the capability team’s
work. Since 1993 the public image of the submarine project had
been disastrous and this contributed to the manpower crisis and
led to poor morale throughout the project. The capability team
hired Brisbane public relations consultants the Philips Group,
whose principal, Stephanie Paul, became an integral part of the
submarine ‘get-well’ program. She saw the submarine project as a
crisis situation, with urgent action needed to break the downward
spiral.
Paul drew up a comprehensive public relations plan based
on responding to the criticisms and repairing the damage to the
submarines’ reputation. They had to acknowledge the faults and
establish the credibility of the capability team with the media.
Previously there had been an information void on the project and
there had been no effective response to the extreme and sensa-
tionalist stories in the media, but gradually the Philips Group’s
strategy built up trust by presenting the media with factual and
verifiable material. Stephanie Paul emphasises that she did not see
the work as ‘selling something’, but as carrying out an essential
part in getting the project back on track.
Briggs found that morale at ASC was a serious problem: the

workforce was reeling from the barrage of bad publicity and
apprehensive that the project would be shut down. He tried to
convince the workers that the problems were not their fault and
they were part of the solution.
Kockums he felt to be a more serious obstacle. The fast-track
timetable relied on getting rapid approval from Kockums, the
design authority, for the design changes. However, approval was
always slow, possibly through an unwillingness to accept that
changes were necessary, although Briggs felt it was due to a decline
in the company’s design capability. In the end most of the design
changes were done in Australia and only approved retrospectively
by Kockums.
ASC responded warily to the capability team. Peter Briggs char-
acterises Hans Ohff’s reaction as being: ‘What are you here for?
There’s nothing wrong with the submarines.’ In Briggs’ view ASC
had not looked beyond the delivery of six submarines to see that
there should be 20 years work for the company in looking after
the submarines, but a better relationship with the customer was
essential before this could happen.
Hans Ohff’s views were very different. He saw the whole
McIntosh-Prescott report and the establishment of the capabil-
ity team as being ‘totally political’. He sees ‘that villain Briggs’
as creating many of the problems with the project, from his early
involvement in drawing up the requirements to his later role in aid-
ing and abetting John Moore’s attacks on the project. In his view
most of the problems with the submarines were either already
solved or well on their way to being fixed. However, Moore
wanted to spend money on the submarines so that he could claim
to have fixed them and Briggs was happy to take the money, even
though the improvements he put on the submarines made only a
marginal difference to their performance.
In spite of his strong opposition to the process as an unnec-
essary waste of money, Ohff ensured that ASC cooperated fully
with Briggs’ capability team. Doug Callow recalls that after the
company’s management had its first briefing from Briggs, ‘we all
looked at Hans and thought, “How’s he going to take this?”’. But
when Briggs left, Hans Ohff simply told his managers: ‘Do what
he wants.’4
The key requirements for the fast-track submarines were seen

as being reliable diesels, a quieter hull shape, new propellers, a
working combat system and new electronic surveillance equip-
ment. Two other vital issues were the support structure for the sub-
marines and the shortage of submariners. Peter Briggs called the
manpower crisis ‘the big sleeper issue that McIntosh and Prescott
had not identified’ and he emphasised that ‘none of the other issues
were relevant unless the manpower problem was fixed’.
All but the need for new electronic surveillance equipment and
the manpower crisis had been identified in the McIntosh-Prescott
report and other reports on the submarines, and in most cases the
remedies had also been decided and were well under way. The
contribution of Peter Briggs and his capability team was to kick
heads, break down doors, ignore excuses, bully laggards and get
results. Regardless of past bitterness, all the groups involved were
made to work together to improve the submarines. The govern-
ment had provided extra money so ‘there was a need to get people
to stop arguing about the submarines and fix them’.
Peter Briggs spent much time and energy dealing with the man-
power crisis and forcing solutions through the system. Through
measures such as giving priority to those volunteering to begin
submarine training, forcing 20 per cent of qualified crews into
shore billets to give relief from continual sea service, reducing the
size of the trials crew at ASC, and introducing a large retention
bonus, submariner numbers began to grow. By the end of 2000
‘qualified Collins manpower had increased from 37 per cent to 55
per cent of the numbers required for six operational submarines’.5
Progress on the mechanical improvements to the submarines
was rapid ‘because the engineering staff in the project office
already had developed design change specifications by the time
they were needed for negotiations with ASC’. Many of the pro-
posed changes had already been made on one or more of the sub-
marines before McIntosh and Prescott reported and Peter Briggs
was appointed.6 Consequently, the central issue was not deciding
what needed to be done but reaching agreement with ASC and its
sub-contractors on who should pay for the work, and ensuring
that it was done promptly and without further dispute.
The diesel engines suffered from numerous problems, which
were mostly minor and fairly readily fixed, but the fact there were
so many of them meant that the engines were inherently unreli-

able and frequently disrupted the submarines’ trials and opera-
tions. The final straw for many submariners was in 1998 when
Farncomb had a horrific passage back from Timor with no diesels
working and the crew living on orange juice and then spending sev-
eral weeks stranded in Darwin waiting for spare parts. Nonethe-
less, by the time ‘fast track’ started many of the minor problems
had been resolved and the diesels were becoming more reliable.
Possibly the most important action taken during the ‘fast-track’
period was increasing the strength of the engine mounts to prevent
twisting and distortion and reduce the excessive vibrations, which
the DSTO experts had advised were behind many of the failures.
Peter Briggs and his team fast-tracked the modifications to
the casing designed by DSTO and the Americans to reduce flow
noise. There is general agreement that these changes improved the
noise signature of the submarines, although strong disagreement
remains as to how significant the improvement was.7 The installa-
tion of American-modified propellers was also fast-tracked, with
similar disagreement on the significance of the changes.
Peter Briggs accepted the McIntosh-Prescott recommendation
that the combat system should be scrapped and the best ‘in-service’
system should be bought for the Collins class. In his view the orig-
inal Rockwell combat system (by early 2000 owned by Raytheon)
‘did not even provide a foundation for where we needed to go’.
Consequently an agreement was reached with Raytheon to end
the production of incremental improvements to the system, with
the last ‘drop’ taking place early in 2000. The submarine capabil-
ity team then began the process of choosing a new combat system
but, since this would clearly not be completed in time to install
it in the fast-track submarines, these were to be fitted with an
‘augmented’ combat system to bring them up to the required min-
imum operational capability.
The augmented combat system owed much to the contingency
work already done by the project team and DSTO’s combat system
research team, complemented by the SWSC and the US Navy. The
process of adding ‘black boxes’ to the combat system was already
under way and the capability team continued this process. The
links between the new submarine project and the SWSC were
renewed in the late 1990s, after the centre had been cut out of
the project since the late 1980s when most of its senior staff left
to join the companies involved in building the Rockwell system.

The centre had quietly continued its work with the Oberons and
responded with enthusiasm to assisting with the new submarines.
The augmentation package was made up of commercial off-the-
shelf consoles with equipment from the US Navy and Australian
companies.
Todd Mansell of DSTO remembers the rather informal circum-
stances of the undertaking:
Installation of the initial augmentation system was pretty

hairy. ASC had utilised connectors for data cables that were
done to military specifications but the computers used by
NUWC were mostly commercial-off-the-shelf. When DSTO
was called on by the project to ‘groom the combat system’
prior to formal testing, we discovered that physical
connection had been achieved by simply stripping the plugs
and splicing the cables together with plenty of electrical tape.
Ted Vanderhoek, who had been at SWSC and the submarine

project before setting up a consultancy with former submariner
Mike Gee, had studied ways to use commercial off-the-shelf equip-
ment in an open system environment before becoming involved
with the augmentation project. He recalls that:
With fast track it was a matter of ‘here’s a bunch of stuff

we’re going to put on the sub – make it work’. The project
was working in shifting sands and at first we were told not to
worry about the process – just get it happening by the
deadline – but then we had to go back and fill the spaces to
appease the regulators.
There was a lot of politicking in fast track. It was an
opportunity for Australian companies to get their products
on the submarines . . . We were given all these products to
put on board and some of them overlapped. No-one really
knew what they wanted on the subs and they overdid it a bit
in what they did put on. There was lots of political pressure
to include the Australian systems and this led to overlaps
with the American systems. To some extent it became a demo
of the products at the expense of a concise system for the
submarines. The augmented system has since been
rationalised and the later submarines were more pragmatic.
Although the augmented combat system reached the minimum

operational requirements set for the acceptance of the submarines,
it was still well short of the capability envisioned when the require-
ments had been drawn up in the early 1980s. Peter Briggs agrees
that the augmented combat system was probably not as good as
the Oberons’ combat system. He says: ‘A submarine on submarine
fight is like a knife fight in a dark alley and in an Oberon versus
[fast-tracked] Collins fight, the Oberon might well win.’
One issue dealt with by the capability team that had not
been discussed in the McIntosh-Prescott report was the electronic
surveillance equipment on the submarines, which is vital for the
work done by Australian submarines. The equipment for the
Collins class had been state of the art when it was purchased
but was obsolete and inadequate by the late 1990s. Six sets of
equipment had been bought in the 1980s but the sets for the last
three submarines ‘didn’t get out of their boxes’. The submarine
project team bought, installed and tested new equipment, initially
in the two fast-track submarines and then in the other four.
The issue of the electronic surveillance equipment highlights
one of the central features of the fast-track project. In the eyes of
the public and the politicians the aim of fast track was to fix the
‘dud subs’ but in fact more time and money was spent upgrading
the technology on the submarines than fixing faults. Peter Briggs
analysed the position:
Operational growth from the fixed price, minimal
contingency contract over 12 years was the biggest source of
issues. The strategy of no prototype, no technology insertion
and no revision of operational requirements led to a backlog
of issues. The notion that you froze the contract, you froze
the requirements and you kept the operators the hell away
from it so you didn’t get any change orders – the chickens
came home to roost when the operators said ‘bloody thing
doesn’t do what we want it to do’. The operators were not
involved from 1987 to 1999 and things changed over that
time.
An important step forward came when Peter Briggs and Hans

Ohff agreed to assess the work that needed to be done, and divide
the issues into black, white and grey: black where the contract
specifications had not been met and ASC was responsible for
fixing the problem; grey where there was mixed responsibility
or where responsibility could not be agreed on; and white where

the requirement had changed or the specified technology was out
of date and the Commonwealth was responsible. In August 1999
there were 120 issues, of which 28 were rated as black, 61 as
white, 20 as grey and 11 were uncategorised – more than half the
issues were accepted as being the Commonwealth’s responsibility.
Lawyers Paul Armarego and Wal Jurkiewicz suggested the
approach the capability team followed in negotiating the
fast-track changes. They analysed the position:
Looking back at the contract, one of the main problems was

that the specifications were 1987 specifications and they were
trying to get them to fit the situation in 2001. The only
obligation ASC had was in terms of the 1987 specifications
and the only chance the Commonwealth had of enforcing
them was in terms of the 1987 specifications. Yet by 2001
some of the original suppliers were no longer in business and
many of them no longer made the equipment that was being
complained of in 2001. Yet by 2001 the navy wanted 2001
standards, not 1987 standards so we suggested that ASC
should pay to get the submarines to the level of the 1987
specifications as set out in the contract and the
Commonwealth should pay the extra required to get them up
to 2001 standards. ASC would do the work and the
Commonwealth would pay the difference.8
In early June 2000 the submarine project office prepared this

report as a potential press release:
Aloha HMAS Waller – Australia’s submarine

success!
As part of her longest overseas operational deployment, the

Royal Australian Navy’s (RAN) Collins-Class submarine
HMAS Waller has played a significant role in the highly
successful anti-submarine warfare exercise conducted
27–30 May 2000. During the recent exercise HMAS Waller
became the first RAN submarine to be fully integrated and
work in direct support for an USN Carrier Battle Group
[CVBG] . . .
Throughout the exercise, HMAS Waller’s mission was to

search and locate an opposing submarine, and provide
reports to the CVBG. The opposing force was successfully
tracked, targeted and attacked by the Australian submarine
on a number of occasions. The Royal Australian Navy’s
submarine crew provided timely intelligence to enable the
CVBG to alter its course through a narrow sea passage and
avoid the opposing submarine threat. The Australian
Collins-Class submarine’s successful involvement ensured the
CVBG came through the recent exercise unscathed . . .
As Rear Admiral Al Konetzni Jnr, Commander of
Submarine Force, stated, ‘HMAS Waller’s performance has
been commendable. It is clear that her talented crew are
further demonstrating the boat’s capability.’9
On receiving this draft, Peter Briggs sent this e-mail to the senior
staff of the capability team, the project office and the submarine
squadron:
I am pleased to hear the rumours of Waller’s success.

However . . . I see significant strategic down sides to an over
enthusiastic public approach.
We are trying to persuade Cabinet and the Defence
hierarchy to spend an additional $700 m on these
submarines. The message of success must be carefully
couched to avoid it being taken out of context. I can hear the
cries of gold plating now!10
Peter Briggs recalls that when Waller went to Hawaii, the Collins
project was still at a critical stage and he spoke with Admiral
Konetzni, who told him: ‘Don’t worry, we’ll make your boys look
good.’ Consequently Waller did well – the crew performed well
with the equipment they had – but it was not a balanced test;
the playing field was tilted in Waller’s favour to allow for what
it could do well without exposing its weaknesses, particularly its
noise at speed and dysfunctional combat system. The submarine
was quiet at low speeds and the exercise was set up so Waller
did not have to move fast. She impressed the Americans with her
potential and did better than expected, ‘but if you have a chance
to get more money for the submarines you don’t throw it away’.
Nonetheless, it has been argued that Waller’s performance –

with the original propeller, the original combat system and with-
out any of the other ‘fast-track’ modifications – shows that the
problems with the submarines had been greatly exaggerated. For
example, Gunnar Öhlund of Kockums says: ‘At the exercises
Waller showed that the Collins submarines were good and did
well with their original equipment’; while Rick Neilson believes
that Waller’s performance showed that the original combat system
was not as bad as has been painted.
Soon after Waller’s participation in the Hawaiian exercises,
Collins, also without the fast-track improvements, sailed to Alaska
to be tested at the US Navy’s noise range at Ketchikan. There
had always been queries on the results of noise testing in Aus-
tralia because of the technology used and the high level of back-
ground noise, but the Alaskan tests ‘indicated the accuracy of
previous ranging in Australia’.11 The tests showed that ‘further
improvements in noise reduction could be achieved by reducing
propeller induced hull vibrations’. Nonetheless, the submarine’s
performance, particularly at low speeds, was extraordinary. Peter
Clarke was in the control room of Collins during the tests and
recalls that the surface controllers gave orders like ‘Switch on
pump 23’ and the submarine would respond ‘we have switched
on pump 23’. ‘Are you sure you’ve switched on pump 23? We can’t
hear anything.’ The tests showed that ‘at low speed the subma-
rine was inherently the quietest in the world’, and for a searching
enemy it was ‘just a black hole’.12
Hans Ohff believes that the performances of Waller and Collins
support the view that Peter Briggs had cleverly manipulated the
political aspects of the project to get a ‘pot of gold’ for the sub-
marines, even though it was ‘very marginal what he could achieve
especially on the platform side’. He believes that John Moore was
determined to ‘hurt ASC’ for political reasons and the capability
team was set up to squeeze ASC. However, ‘Briggs had no contrac-
tual grounds for doing anything against ASC – he had $300 mil-
lion for things that ASC had to fix, but we had already done most
of them, they were already finished’. Ohff says that ASC made a
healthy profit on the work it did for the fast-track program.13
While there is argument over the improvements to the sub-
marines made by the capability team, critics of ‘fast track’ who
argue that it was purely political and see it as an attack on the
project appear to ignore the capability team’s other work. In mid-

1999 there was a real prospect that the project would be shut
down, but Peter Briggs succeeded not only in arguing the case for
the submarines, but also in getting the government to commit large
sums of money to the project. When he was appointed the project
was at risk of grinding to a halt under the impact of political and
media attacks and the incessant bickering between the various par-
ties involved. The capability team’s media strategy did not totally
reverse the negative public perception of the submarines, but it
helped bring about a more balanced coverage and limited the more
far-fetched and sensationalist exposés which had occurred regu-
larly during 1997 and 1998. Similarly, conflict within the project
was not stopped by Briggs banging heads together but, with the
exception of Kockums, relations between the parties stabilised to
the extent that they were able to work together. The capability
team gave the submarine project money and momentum.
Although there were some setbacks during the work on the
fast-track submarines these were overcome, and most of the mod-
ifications had been made by the time Dechaineux and Sheean
sailed for Western Australia, where they arrived on 14 December
2000. The project office report noted that: ‘With the departure
of Dechaineux and Sheean to HMAS Stirling, the contract was
99 per cent complete with five submarines delivered and provi-
sionally accepted and under the control of Maritime Commander
Australia. Rankin was 96 per cent complete.’
With the delivery of the two fast-track submarines the main
work of Peter Briggs’ capability team was largely completed.
Briggs retired and the control of the project passed to Paul Green-
field – who had succeeded Eoin Asker as director general of under-
sea warfare systems (project director) in March 2000 – and Kevin
Scarce, the head of maritime systems, who came to the project
initially through his work on the support arrangements for the
submarines. The two biggest issues Greenfield and Scarce faced
were the choice of the new combat system and the relationship
with Kockums. Both had been subjected to extensive debate,
dissent and discussion, but both still awaited resolution.
CHAPTER 25
‘Inside the American tent’: the saga of
the replacement combat system
In early August 2000 Peter Briggs and Paul Greenfield gave a brief-
ing on progress with the submarine ‘get-well’ program. Comment-
ing on the combat system, Briggs said:
Last week Collins successfully launched the first Harpoon
missile fired by a Collins class submarine. It constituted one
of a series of tests to prove that the Harpoon missile has been
integrated and can be initialised and fired by the combat
system.
[Don’t] draw any judgements that the combat system is
suddenly passing its exams. It’s not. The combat system must
be replaced. The system is cumbersome and difficult to
operate. It doesn’t handle the data adequately and it’s too
slow. It’s been overtaken by the computer revolution.
My recommendation remains: the cheapest, the fastest
and the most effective way from where we are now is to
replace it.1
Peter Briggs asked how long it would take before a contract could
be signed for the new system, saying he wanted it within a year.
When he was told it would take at least four years to call for
299
tenders, assess them, go through the committees and get the con-
tract set up, Briggs said (as Paul Greenfield recalls), ‘Read my
lips, we will have it within a year’. Greenfield was put in charge
of the project to buy a replacement combat system and, follow-
ing Briggs’ advice to cut corners and ‘work with a room full of
experts rather than a room full of paper’, the selection was made in
10 months.2
Greenfield’s brief was to follow the recommendation of the
McIntosh-Prescott report and recommend the best ‘new, modern
COTS [commercial off-the-shelf] based combat system against a
minimal dot point specification’.3 McIntosh and Prescott empha-
sised that the new combat system should be in service and proven.
Greenfield asked for guidance from the navy on strategic consid-
erations – such as the impact on the American alliance – to be
taken into account in the choice, but none was given.
Four main contenders were identified and early in 2000 all
except Lockheed Martin brought operational versions of their
systems to the DSTO laboratories at Salisbury in South Australia,
where they were plugged into the ‘virtual Collins’ to evaluate their
performance. These were the German STN Atlas’s ISUS 90–55
system, Raytheon’s CCS Mk2 system, and the French Thales-led
consortium’s Subtics system. The Thales and Lockheed Martin
systems were eliminated in May 2000 and then teams of scien-
tists and engineers went around the world to look at the STN and
Raytheon systems at work in operational submarines.
Todd Mansell of DSTO’s submarine combat systems team saw
the STN Atlas system on an Israeli Dolphin class submarine and
the Raytheon system on the 6000-ton Los Angeles class nuclear
attack submarine USS Montpelier. While the visit to the American
submarine was more comfortable, the Australians were far more
impressed with the combat system on the Israeli submarine.4
STN Atlas was always aware that Raytheon had an advantage,
as the US Navy would be wary of the possibility of a European
company gaining access to the secrets of its weapons systems and
tactics. Consequently, it teamed up with Lockheed Martin to han-
dle the weapons interface and provide the weapons software for
the Australian bid in order to mitigate the security concerns.
The evaluation team found that the STN Atlas system was
clearly superior. It generally met or exceeded all the navy’s
requirements without need for significant modification, while the
THE SAGA OF THE REPLACEMENT COMBAT SYSTEM 301
Raytheon system did not. It was a proven, in-service system

designed for conventional submarines, while the Raytheon sys-
tem was designed for nuclear submarines and would need to be
extensively modified to suit a smaller, conventional submarine.
Submariners expressed great enthusiasm for the STN Atlas sys-
tem. Peter Sinclair, who had struggled with the Rockwell system
as captain of Collins, saw the STN Atlas system as ‘the first suc-
cessful multi-functional combat system for a submarine. It blew
me away – it was brilliant’. The DSTO evaluation indicated that
the performance of the STN Atlas system had a margin of about
30 per cent over the Raytheon system.5 In December 2000 the
capability team formally recommended that STN Atlas should
supply the new combat system.
Paul Greenfield conducted the replacement combat system con-
test with meticulous concern for probity and propriety but, while
he ensured the playing field was level, it turned out that the ‘goal-
posts were in another paddock’.6
STN Atlas was confident it would win a fair contest, but it
believed it was only there to provide competitive tension and that
Raytheon was the pre-ordained winner. Paul Greenfield recalls
that Gordon Hargreave of STN Atlas told him in May 2000 that
the company believed it was just being used as a stalking horse and
that it should pull out of the contest because the Australian navy
wanted the American system. Greenfield told Hargreave this was
not true and that it was a fair and open contest. He then went to
David Shackleton, the head of the navy, and asked, ‘If STN Atlas
wins, would you have problems with that?’ – to which Shackleton
replied, ‘No’.7
The competition went ahead and STN Atlas duly won but, as
John Young recalls, no contract was forthcoming. Instead there
began to be enormous pressure on Canberra from the United
States. On complaining to the Americans, Young was told: ‘You
don’t understand – there are bigger things at play than selecting a
combat system.’ In his view it was all about politics and trade.8
STN Atlas did not just lie down and accept that it would not get
the contract, but fought hard to have the result of the evaluation
upheld. The Australian submarine community was in favour of
the Atlas system, but it was up against the might of ‘USA Inc’,
the policy of the Australian government to build closer ties with
America, and the views of the chief of the navy.
Not surprisingly, the view of the situation from the Raytheon

camp was somewhat different. Tony Smith was closely involved in
Raytheon’s bid for the replacement system and, while he concedes
that Raytheon’s original proposal was deficient in some aspects,
he believes that the evaluation did not take into account that the
system could be changed quickly and easily. For example, the
first evaluation was critical of the way Raytheon’s system anal-
ysed data from the periscopes, but within six weeks the system
was substantially modified to present the data in the way that
was wanted. However, the evaluation team refused to look at the
modified system even though Raytheon had shown the flexibility
of its architecture.9
In late 2000 and early 2001 there was continuous pressure
from America to reverse the decision on the replacement combat
system. Senior naval officers, most notably Admiral Frank ‘Skip’
Bowman, the US Navy’s most senior submariner, argued strongly
in favour of an American combat system. Bowman told both John
Moore and David Shackleton that the collaboration between the
Australian and American submarine forces could become even
closer if they had the same combat system and weapons, while
the use of a third party [STN Atlas] system would put constraints
on the sharing of American technical and intelligence secrets.10
At the same time Raytheon queried the integrity of the selec-
tion process, and several letters were written to the Minister for
Defence accusing Peter Briggs and Paul Greenfield of ‘corrupt-
ing the tender process’ and of giving STN Atlas tender evaluation
documents. This led to an investigation of the selection process
which found it was ‘squeaky clean – there was no basis for the
accusations’.11
American pressure was also placed on DSTO, whose assess-
ments of the competing combat systems came down strongly in
favour of STN Atlas. However, in December 2000 the organisa-
tion abruptly reversed its position and queried the suitability of
the German system. It is widely believed that this reversal was
not unrelated to suggestions (real or perceived) that the access of
Australian defence scientists to American research facilities could
be threatened if the German system was chosen.12
Questioning of the decision in favour of STN Atlas continued
throughout the first half of 2001. The pressure came both from the
Americans and from David Shackleton, whose concerns about the
Australian, 12 July 2001 (Courtesy of Peter Nicholson.)
strategic and security implications of the decision increased as time

went on. On 10 July the government announced the ‘termination
of the selection process for a replacement combat system’ and that
‘a new acquisition strategy would be developed around ensuring
interoperability with the United States’.13 In simple terms, the
contract was to go to America.
It is widely believed that the decision to buy an American com-
bat system was primarily due to the Liberal Party’s commitment
to the American alliance. While this was undoubtedly a factor,
probably the most critical element in the final decision was the
emphatic conviction of navy chief David Shackleton of the impor-
tance to the navy of collaboration with the Americans.
Shackleton became chief of the navy in mid-1999 and the com-
bat system replacement project had been under way for some
months before he became concerned about the security implica-
tions of buying a European combat system for the submarines and
‘the way the submarine force would evolve if we were to go down
the European route’. He concedes now that:
What [the Department of Defence] got wrong was that we

didn’t establish what the strategic position ought to be. To
ask the question, how do we take a lot of American sourced,

very sensitive intelligence, put it into a submarine, connect it
to a weapon, do what we think we have to do with a
submarine, and still have the full confidence of our American
friends?14
Shackleton feared that it would not be possible to have a Euro-

pean combat system, where Europeans would be involved in the
support and maintenance, on Australian submarines without the
‘leakage of classified information’, and he felt he ‘simply couldn’t
countenance that in terms of the relationship we had with the US’.
As he saw it, the crux of the issue was:
Classified information processing requirements are as

important as the way in which information is displayed. The
technical requirements for storing and processing top secret
material are stringent to say the least. The STN system was
not designed with that in mind. The US system was.15
The evaluation team argued that this problem had been foreseen.
They had arranged to purchase all the source code and to include
an ‘Australian eyes only’ support facility in Australia for the sys-
tem. In addition Lockheed Martin was part of the STN team and
would provide all the weapons software, which the evaluation
team believed would have avoided any difficulties with US infor-
mation being given to the Germans.16 Shackleton was not con-
vinced.
Shackleton denies that he was pressured to reject a European
solution:
There has been this conjecture that the government said

you’ve got to have an American solution. The government
never said that to me. In fact, it was David Shackleton who
came to the conclusion . . . that, if the American system
would do what the submariners wanted, then in a strategic
context in terms of further growth of the submarine
capability – by which I mean everything, doctrine, tactics,
weapons, technology, the complete evolution of the
submarine force – then I saw a strategic link with the US
Navy as being extremely valuable.17
Consequently, when Greenfield’s evaluation team decided that

STN Atlas was the preferred supplier, Shackleton insisted that
there be further discussions with the Americans on the security
and strategic implications of this decision. He recalls that: ‘People
said to me that the Americans were just waving a big stick, that it
was just the US Navy helping US Incorporated. I said, “Well that’s
easy for you to comment, but I’m the one that’s got the risk and I
want to de-risk this as far as I can go”.’18
A joint working group with the US Navy was set up to study
the issue and Shackleton went to America to talk to Skip Bow-
man. Shackleton found Bowman ‘was more than blunt and said
that he didn’t think what we were about could be done’. Shack-
leton explains that Bowman was referring to the idea that highly
classified information could be ‘black boxed’ – that is, handled
in a totally discrete fashion in the combat system. The Americans
argued that this could not be done without reducing the oper-
ational effectiveness of the submarines. While insisting that the
decision was ‘always going to be Australia’s to make’, Bowman
made it clear that if Australia chose a European combat system
then there would inevitably be limitations placed on the coop-
eration between the American and Australian submarine forces.
Shackleton is emphatic that he did not see this as a threat, but as
‘an important reality check on my aspirations for the Australian
submarine force in the future’.19
At the time, the decision to override the evaluation process and
buy an American combat system was almost universally opposed
by Australian submariners. The most immediate reason for this
was the delay involved in getting the new combat system onto the
submarines. In late 2000 it was hoped that the replacement com-
bat system would be at sea ‘during the 2004/05 financial year’.20
This date was already compromised by the delay in the decision,
but it was pushed into the distance by the choice of Raytheon.
While STN Atlas had a system ready to install, choosing the Amer-
ican solution meant beginning another development project with
no more than a hoped-for delivery date. In the meantime the six
submarines had to make do with several variations of the original
Rockwell system and the augmented ‘fast-track’ system, none of
which offered a significant improvement on the updated Oberon
combat system.21 For those who had seen the STN Atlas system
in action on the Israeli submarine this was a bitter pill.
Peter Sinclair recalls:
I went back to the squadron immediately after [the decision]

to be squadron commander and I have to say that we
struggled for six months to convince the entire submarine
arm that we were doing the right thing by selecting the
system from the United States and going into another
development program . . . By this time they had without a
doubt a fantastic platform, but they were let down by the
combat system selection . . . It’s incredible to think that we
were pressured that greatly by the US to put a submarine to
sea that still to this day hasn’t got a proper combat system.
For John Dikkenberg it was a mistake to embark on another devel-

opment project when the German combat system could do 90 per
cent of what was wanted without modification. Peter Hatcher
agrees, saying: ‘Of course they’d have been far better off buying
the German Atlas combat system – a proven system tailored for
a conventional submarine – but the Americans managed to con
them on the security business.’
However, the arguments are by no means one-way, and many
people closely involved in the project now argue that the deci-
sion to buy the American combat system was correct. The central
planks of the case are the value of the American alliance for the
navy and the submarine force in particular, the advantages of par-
ticipating in what has become a continually evolving combat sys-
tem development program, and the technical merits of the system
that has been developed.
David Shackleton sees events since early 2000 as justifying his
decision:
I guess the strategic outcome I hoped for is that there is an

extremely tight working relationship now between the RAN
and the USN. We have Australian submariners inside the
American tent. And you shouldn’t underestimate just how
closeted the submarine world is. I mean, if you talk about
security, these guys are paranoid! So to let anybody in is an
amazing feat on its own and we now put Australian
submariners and American submariners together on
commanding officers qualifying courses . . .
So the degree of sharing now is just extraordinary and I

just don’t see how we could ever have reached that had we
gone with a European solution. The technology might have
worked, it might have done most of what we wanted, but I
simply don’t think that the rapport that we have with the US
navy could have happened – and it’s not a father-son
relationship, it’s much more of a brother-brother.22
The decision to buy American rather than German paved the way
for a formal agreement on cooperation on all submarine-related
matters, which was signed in Washington on 10 September 2001.
Admiral Phil Davis analysed the agreement and its consequences
from the American perspective:
Shackleton recognised that the relationship begun between

the chiefs of the navies in Chalmers’ time needed to be kept
going and he felt that this way of doing business should be
codified and formalised. This would make sure that its future
did not depend just on the personal relationships at any
particular time. Shackleton was responsible for the
agreement between Australia and the USA which meant that
on submarines we were so closely bound together. It was
signed in the Pentagon the day before the attack on the
World Trade Center. It put in writing the commitment of
unqualified support, but it went far beyond that to take
down all the barriers between the submariners of the two
navies and now they do everything together . . .
It was the personal involvement of Shackleton that led
Australia to get the US combat system and it was because of
the commitment that the US was locked into that meant that
it would be committed to support it. It was not like buying
from a commercial vendor and it meant that Australia would
be able to stay up with advances in technology, which it
could not afford to do buying commercially.23
The decision to buy an American combat system meant the begin-

ning of a new development project, although many lessons had
been learned from the failed Rockwell system and the project fol-
lowed a very different path. Critically, the project was run as a
joint venture between the Australian and American navies, with
the Commonwealth as prime contractor, Raytheon and General
Dynamics as contractors to the US Navy and DSTO’s submarine

combat system team playing a central role.
As the Americans did not have a complete system that met Aus-
tralia’s requirements, the initial plan was to use the tactical and fire
control elements of the American system and the STN Atlas sonar
solution with an interface to the existing sonar arrays. However,
the total cost was beyond the available budget, so a cheaper but
less effective option was developed using the sonar component of
the combat system augmentation program. Bob Clark comments
that: ‘We should have changed the name of the project at that time
from Replacement Combat System to something less grand as we
really only replaced tactical and fire control and augmented the
sonar.’24
The tactical and fire control was developed from the Raytheon
CCS Mk2 system, but even though this had significantly advanced
from that presented to the original selection process, ‘it was still
not what our operators would expect in a new system and would
need significant change to get it to do what we wanted’.25 How-
ever, given the delays in the decision on the replacement combat
system and the increasing difficulty in maintaining the original and
augmented systems on the submarines, it was decided to accept
the minimally changed Raytheon system on the basis that it was
capable of rapid and continuing improvement.
However, soon after this decision the US Navy dramatically
changed its approach to combat system development and largely
abandoned Raytheon’s CCS Mk2. Its new architecture was based
on commercial products with an open systems framework to allow
for continual technological improvements and software updates.
Australia joined this program as a joint development partner with
the US Navy so that the new Collins combat system will be based
on that developed for all American submarines, but adapted to
suit Australian requirements.
The unique Collins combination of sonar arrays and its small
crew means that the total combat system architecture is necessarily
unique for Australian requirements and requires numerous spe-
cially designed linkages and interfaces. Australia became respon-
sible for developing the system’s architecture, providing a design
approval authority and managing systems integration. Support-
ers of the decision to go with the Americans point out that this
provides more opportunities for Australian industry participation

than would have been likely with the Germans.
The new combat system has developed greatly from the pro-
posal submitted by Raytheon in 2000, taking on many of the
characteristics of the system that was envisaged at the SWSC in
the early 1980s. The technology is now available for an integrated
system with multi-function consoles and other features that were
advanced in the 1980s but are now mainstream. The system is
an open system architecture using mainly commercial equipment
and operating systems, making it flexible and simple to upgrade.26
Tony Smith of Raytheon points out that ‘the US Navy will want
upgrades so Australia will get them too, with the only extra cost
being to add things that are unique for the Australian submarines’.
Significantly Peter Briggs, who initially strongly opposed the
decision to overturn the combat system evaluation, now agrees
that ‘it was probably the right strategic call to go with the Ameri-
can combat system’, although he adds the caveat that ‘it has cost
us tens if not hundreds of millions more, injected several years’
delay and required a high risk developmental project to achieve a
system that is still less capable than the STN’.
The replacement combat system was installed on Waller dur-
ing 2006 and the evolving system will be progressively installed
on all the submarines by 2010. The mechanical problems of the
submarines have long been resolved and with the new combat
system they will finally be able to perform at the level envisaged
by the planners in the early 1980s.
CHAPTER 26
‘We’ll do it and get rid of the buggers’:
Kockums, ASC and Electric Boat
The Coalition government came to office in 1996 committed to a

policy of selling government businesses, and ASC was high on the
lists of businesses to be sold. Yet in 2000 the government took total
control of ASC by buying Kockums’ 49 per cent shareholding.
This situation arose from the complex contractual relationships
between ASC, Kockums and the Commonwealth, the reappear-
ance of the German submarine builders HDW in the Collins story
as the new owners of Kockums, and the decision of the navy and
the capability team to look to the United States for help with the
submarines.
With the end of the Cold War and the decline in submarine
orders from the major Western navies, a rationalisation of the sub-
marine industry was inevitable. Kockums approached both French
and German submarine builders with suggestions of collabora-
tion. Initially HDW spurned Kockums’ approaches, but when it
appeared that Kockums might align with the French to make a
powerful competitor, and was also making headway in the com-
petition to provide submarines for South Korea, HDW made a
successful offer for Kockums.1
310
KOCKUMS, ASC AND ELECTRIC BOAT 311
The takeover of Kockums by HDW was completed in Septem-

ber 1999, immediately raising the question of the future of
Kockums’ shareholding in ASC. Tomy Hjorth, the chairman
of ASC, felt the obvious buyer was HDW, as he believed a
Swedish/German/Australian link could be a powerful force in con-
ventional submarines. Hjorth says that when a delegation from
HDW came out to Australia to look at ASC, their reaction was
that they were doubtful about the business but were prepared to
buy Kockums’ shares.
However, Peter Briggs recommended to the government that
HDW should not be allowed to buy the shares and that they should
be acquired by the Commonwealth. Briggs judged that the own-
ership structure of ASC was a major cause of the project’s prob-
lems as there were inherent conflicts of interest between Kockums’
position as a major shareholder, major sub-contractor, and design
authority. Further, the difficulties encountered by Kockums in the
1990s had led to a decline in its capability and Briggs felt that
it no longer had the design expertise to overcome the deficien-
cies in the submarines. In his view a sale of the shares to HDW
would not resolve these difficulties. After carrying out technical
due diligence on ASC, HDW indicated that it could not promise
to do better than Kockums with the noise or propeller problems.
Further, HDW insisted on complete control and Briggs felt that
‘we were going from a Kockums frying pan to a HDW fire’.2
Following the lead set by Don Chalmers in 1998, Peter Briggs
and the submarine capability team looked to the United States
Navy for technical advice and assistance. The Americans offered
their leading submarine builder, Electric Boat, as a technology
partner so that ASC could turn to them for help rather than to
Kockums or HDW. They had several motives for their involve-
ment. As the US Navy was supplying Australia with highly clas-
sified equipment for the fast-track project, the Americans were
concerned that their technology would not be secure in a Swedish
or German-owned shipyard. It is also widely believed in Sweden
and Australia that the Americans were keen to become involved in
the conventional submarine business.3 During the Cold War their
all-nuclear submarine fleet tracked the Soviets through the world’s
oceans, but in the vastly changed situation of the late 1990s they
became more interested in the shallow waters of South-East Asia
and the conventional submarines that operated there. It is also
widely believed that the Americans were interested in using Aus-

tralian submarine technology to build submarines for Taiwan. The
assumption drawn from these considerations is that the US Navy
discouraged the Australian government from allowing HDW to
retain Kockums’ shares in ASC.
The government for its part was keen to encourage Electric
Boat’s involvement, partly because of the assistance that might be
available for the submarines but also in the hope that the com-
pany might be a buyer for shares in ASC. John Moore strongly
supported American involvement. He recalls that by mid-1999, ‘I
had lost all faith in Europeans – they were obstinate, unhelpful,
downright rude and technologically backward’.4
The scepticism of some in the submarine project – such as Greg
Stuart, who saw Electric Boat as technologically overrated and
ignorant of conventional submarines – was ignored in the rush to
enlist American aid.
There was thus strong opposition to HDW holding shares in
ASC, but as the owners of Kockums how could the Germans be
kept out? The answer came, not surprisingly, from the ubiqui-
tous Peter Horobin, who had long railed against the conflict of
interest inherent in the structure of ASC and, from his time advis-
ing AIDC, was one of the few people who knew the contractual
background of the whole project. Horobin met with Peter Briggs
in Perth in December 1999 and advised him that the takeover
of Kockums by HDW gave the Commonwealth the right to pre-
emptively purchase Kockums’ shares in ASC. Peter Briggs and
his team saw this as a way to take control of the project, while
John Moore enthusiastically said: ‘We’ll do it and get rid of the
buggers.’
Prime Minister John Howard ‘nearly fell off his chair’ when
John Moore told him of the proposal to buy Kockums’ shares,
saying: ‘We’re meant to be privatising things and here you want me
to buy a company?’ However, John Moore managed to convince
him and on 5 April 2000 the cabinet agreed to buy all of ASC.
Negotiations over the next few months led to a final purchase
price of $33.8 million, plus a $20 million dividend which was
divided between Kockums and ASC.5
While the decision to buy Kockums’ shares in ASC was a short-
term response to the problems of the submarine project and also
reflected a desire to encourage American involvement with the
submarines, little consideration appears to have been given to the

long-term consequences for ASC and Australian naval shipbuild-
ing. Rejecting HDW meant abandoning the possible long-term
benefits of becoming part of a German/Swedish/Australian consor-
tium with the greatest body of conventional submarine expertise
and the largest order book in the world. The possibilities included
working with a company with ‘a kindred design philosophy’,6
building submarines for Asian navies, developing air-independent
technology and having greater flexibility in the design and build-
ing of future Australian submarines. The alliance with Elec-
tric Boat has no prospect for export sales because the United
States does not sell submarines and it would be extremely wary
of allowing ASC to sell submarines that incorporate American
technology.
Doug Jones, a lawyer at Clayton Utz who advised on the pur-
chase, says that the purchase of Kockums’ shares effectively con-
verted the Commonwealth into the prime contractor for the sub-
marines, and as such it should have had much more control over
the project. However, the Commonwealth held its shares partly
through the Department of Industry (the Kockums shares) and
partly through the Department of Finance (the AIDC shares), so
it did not speak with one voice. Jones observed that the takeover
did not solve the poisonous relationship between the contractor
and the Commonwealth, with continuing bitter disputes. ASC was
still treated as a separate entity even though the Commonwealth
owned the company.
An immediate and predictable consequence of the sale of its
shares in ASC was that Kockums lost interest in ASC, although it
remained the design authority for the Collins class. Tomy Hjorth,
who had been chairman of ASC throughout the 1990s, told the
government that ‘Kockums would be tough in the future with
regard to its commitment’. With no financial interest in ASC and
amid the turmoil of the merger with HDW, it is not surprising
that support for Australia’s submarines became a low priority for
Kockums.
The position of Kockums in the project was further affected by
a deterioration in its relationship with ASC during the fast-track
program. Previously they had stood together in resisting the navy’s
claims that the submarines were seriously flawed, but there was
growing frustration among ASC staff, who felt
caught between the customer, who was giving us grief and

saying ‘we don’t like this’ and we were turning to Kockums
and saying ‘this doesn’t work’, and they were saying ‘yes it
does – your sailors aren’t operating it properly’. And we were
taking this message back to the customer and the customer
gets even more annoyed thinking we were trying to evade
responsibility.7
During the fast-track program there was great pressure to act

swiftly and the relationship became even more fragile, with ASC
and Kockums ceasing to work as a team. ASC found it did not
have time to work through Kockums as Kockums’ response times
for design changes were too slow for the fast-track timetable.
Consequently ASC effectively took responsibility for the design
itself.
Kockums moved its staff off the ASC site at Osborne to an
office in central Adelaide, consequently losing touch with what
was going on with the submarines and being increasingly left out
of the loop between ASC and the capability team. An indication
of the changed relationship was that in much of the litigation that
took place in 2001–03, ASC took the side of the Commonwealth
against Kockums.
The ASC board was restructured, with the Swedish board
members replaced by Commonwealth nominees and John Prescott
taking over from Tomy Hjorth as chairman. At the end of January
2002 Hans Ohff retired as chief executive officer, to be replaced
later that year by Stephen Gumley, a Tasmanian Rhodes Scholar
with a PhD in fluid mechanics. He had worked for a number of
high-tech Australian companies and spent some years with Boeing
before coming to ASC.
Gumley says that when he started at ASC the starkest issue was
low morale because the building contract was almost finished and
the company had no certainty of future work. At that time the
chances of getting the through-life support contract for the sub-
marines appeared bleak. ASC needed to repair its relationships
with the navy and the Defence Department and demonstrate that
it could successfully carry out maintenance and repair of the sub-
marines. This meant that the relationship with Kockums needed
to be sorted out, and in particular the intellectual property issue
needed to be resolved. Gumley’s strategy was to turn ASC from a
building company into a maintenance company, and for this it was

critical to get the through-life support contract. Although one of
the main arguments for building the submarines in Australia had
been to give the infrastructure and expertise to maintain them,
the bad blood between the company and the Defence Department
meant that there was a real possibility that ASC would not get the
support contract, with the department investigating several other
options. It was not until December 2003 that the contract, worth
about $3.5 billion over 25 years, was awarded to ASC, ensur-
ing that the submarines will be maintained through their lives by
those who built them. This contract symbolised the government’s
acceptance of the strategic importance of the submarines and the
need to give them effective long-term support.
Along with the long-term support contract, the issue of the
design authority for the submarines was critical in the early 2000s.
Until 1999 it had never been questioned that Kockums would
remain the design authority, but the takeover by HDW, the per-
ception that Kockums’ design capability was declining, and the
closer ties to America of both the Australian government and the
navy led to changing views of the position. The crux of the matter
was a series of bitter battles between Kockums and the Com-
monwealth over the ownership of the intellectual property of the
submarines’ design.
While Kockums was a shareholder in ASC and closely bound
up in the project, intellectual property was rarely if ever discussed.
However, the change in the firm’s position led to hurried perus-
ing of the contract as lawyers sought to determine who owned the
design of the submarines. Kockums, particularly after its takeover
by HDW, was determined to protect its rights. The merged com-
pany was the world leader in conventional submarine building and
it did not want a possible ASC/Electric Boat consortium to emerge
as a competitor. Kockums was wary of the increasing American
involvement in the Collins project and feared where this might
lead. Undoubtedly, they had heard the rumours emanating from
Canberra that the government wanted General Dynamics, Elec-
tric Boat’s parent, to become a major shareholder in ASC. Indeed,
the government had made a decision to introduce Electric Boat
as a capability partner and potential 40 per cent equity owner of
ASC.8 It was these fears that lay behind Kockums’ reaction when
its propeller was sent to America.
The Commonwealth initially believed that it had few rights to

the intellectual property, but advice from Clayton Utz indicated
that this was not necessarily the case and it decided to fight Kock-
ums’ attempt to keep the propellers away from the Americans.
Although two propellers had already been sent to America, Kock-
ums took action in the Federal Court to prevent further shipments.
In April 2001 Justice Wilcox dismissed Kockums’ application,
largely because the despatch of a third propeller could not fur-
ther harm Kockums, but he did confirm that Kockums owned the
design rights to the Collins class submarines. A later appeal over-
turned the original judgment on the ground that Justice Wilcox
had ‘erred in process’, but the original question of the provision
and use of intellectual property was left undecided.
After the initial Federal Court decision, project director Paul
Greenfield and project commercial manager David Elliston held
discussions with Kockums and HDW on the terms of a possible
settlement and drew up a draft agreement. Greg Stuart believes
this would have been an excellent solution and would have given
a long-term alliance with a company with ‘a kindred design phi-
losophy’. However, when they took it to Mick Roche, the head
of the Defence Materiel Organisation, he said there would be no
settlement yet because ‘They haven’t bled enough’.9 It took three
more years of bitter dispute before a settlement was reached.
The propeller case was only the most prominent of a wave
of litigation between Kockums and the Commonwealth between
2001 and 2003 involving intellectual property rights and technical
disputes. Kockums’ general counsel, Bo Benell, believes that the
Commonwealth pursued these vigorously in the expectation that
Kockums would ‘give up’ and it was only when it became clear
that Kockums was going to fight that the Commonwealth began
to think of making a settlement.
When the two sides began negotiating, one of the central
issues became the welding defects on the Swedish-built sections of
Collins. Collins returned to ASC in Port Adelaide in April 2001 for
its first full-cycle docking, a regular maintenance period intended
to take between a year and 18 months to complete. Simon Ridg-
way, who was ASC’s project manager for the full-cycle docking,
recalls that during routine inspections a large number of weld
defects were discovered in sections 300 and 600, the two sections
that had been built in Malmö. Although welding problems had
been identified while the sections were still in Sweden and these
had been worked on at various times by ASC, an independent
review found numerous faulty welds and cracks in the Swedish
sections while the Australian-built sections showed close to zero
defects. The consequence for Collins was that the full-cycle dock-
ing took four years to complete.
However, the news of the defects was far from unwelcome to
those involved in the negotiations with Kockums over intellectual
property, as it gave them a strong bargaining chip. Kockums was
looking for a payment of about $50 million for its intellectual
property, and the cost of fixing the welding defects was a use-
ful tool for bringing that sum down. While not denying that the
welding was poorly done, the Kockums view is that the Common-
wealth exaggerated the defects because they saw it as the ‘counter
to use to trade for Kockums’ intellectual property’.10
The issues were discussed with considerable vigour until the
middle of 2004, when a settlement was finally agreed. The central
terms of the settlement were:
Defence and ASC have full access to Kockums’ intellectual
property for maintaining, supporting and upgrading the
Collins Class submarines throughout the life of the Class.
Formal termination of the various contracts between the
parties for the design and construction of the submarines,
and subsequent settlement of all claims arising from these
contracts.
Provision of a contract under which Defence and ASC
may have access to Kockums’ design services for support of
the Collins Class submarines as required.11
Kockums was paid $25 million for its intellectual property rights
and was released from its warranty under the contract.12 The
settlement gave the Defence Department, ASC and their sub-
contractors access to Kockums’ intellectual property, within a
framework that gave some protection to Kockums’ proprietary
information without restricting Australian access to US subma-
rine technology.
The sixth and final submarine, HMAS Rankin, was launched
on 7 November 2001. Following its contractor’s sea trials it
was formally delivered by ASC on 18 March 2003 and commis-
sioned into naval service on 29 March 2003. Rankin was delayed
during construction when resources were devoted to the ear-

lier submarines, particularly the two fast-track submarines. The
project office reported in March 2001 that: ‘Rankin remained
in the fitting hall for the quarter. Progress in its construction
had suffered from the priority given to improving the other sub-
marines and from “cannibalisation” for spare parts.’13 However,
the delays allowed the lessons learned from the earlier submarines
and the improvements made in the fast-track submarines to be
incorporated into the final submarine. It was a very different and
far superior boat to HMAS Collins.
The delivery of Rankin effectively brought project SEA1114 to
a conclusion, 21 years after the establishment of the project office
in 1982 and 16 years after the signing of the contract in 1987.
CHAPTER 27
‘We would find that challenging’:
comparison and retrospect
In the early stages of the new submarine project Oscar Hughes

was talking to a senior American admiral and outlined the aims
and ambitions for the project. The American raised his eyebrows
and said: ‘We would find that challenging.’
Building submarines is hard, and getting harder. To build a hull
to withstand extreme water pressures has always been demand-
ing, but the increasing complexities of electronics and computer
systems make modern submarines among the greatest of engi-
neering challenges. Even countries with long histories of subma-
rine construction often have problems, while countries attempting
to build submarines for the first time regularly experience disas-
ters. Dilapidated or abandoned shipyards from Buenos Aires to
Bombay littered with the relics of failed submarine projects testify
to the magnitude of the challenges.
Electric Boat is the world’s most experienced submarine
builder, yet in the 1970s and early 1980s the building program
for the Los Angeles class submarines was such a disaster the com-
pany was only saved by vast injections of government money.
The story of the project’s innumerable problems was chronicled
in Running critical, Patrick Tyler’s masterpiece of investigatory
319
journalism. The hulls of several boats had to be ripped apart and

then welded together again when it was found that thousands of
welds were either missing or defective and many more had been
improperly certified. Most of the submarines had major defects:
A lot of men who worked on USS Philadelphia later said that
the ship was built twice because just about everything
installed had to be ripped out at least once due to faulty
workmanship, changed plans, or improper sequence . . .
The forward weapons loading hatch on the USS New
York City had been misaligned so badly that the navy would
not be able to load its Mark 48 torpedo through it. One of
the giant engine-room foundations in the USS La Jolla had
been built backwards, but was still installed. It [had] to be
ripped out.1
At the same time Electric Boat was also building several Trident
nuclear submarines, but progress was ‘truly glacial’ because ‘the
new generation of nuclear submarines was proving so complex,
so sophisticated as to rival in scope the great medieval cathedrals
of Europe, where tradesmen passed their tasks from generation to
generation, each hoping he would be among those to pray inside’.2
The problems with the Los Angeles and Trident classes were
due, at least in part, to specific difficulties within Electric Boat and
its parent company, General Dynamics, at that time. Nonetheless,
the next American submarine project, the Seawolf class, was even
more disastrous. The Seawolf project suffered from substantial
cost increases, lengthy schedule delays and serious welding fail-
ures. The architecture for the combat system proved too hard to
build and had to be completely redesigned.3
Britain has been building submarines for over a century, but
several recent projects have had major problems. Of most interest
from the Australian point of view is the Upholder project, as this
class was touted as the low-risk choice for Australia’s new sub-
marine. Mike Gallagher saw that ‘the Upholders had significant
tales of woe’. He was in England during the period they were com-
missioned and decommissioned and he recalls that they were well
behind schedule (with the first boat taking seven years from build
to in service), they had great difficulties firing their weapons and
major problems with their drive trains. Similarly Jim Ring, in his
account of Britain’s submariners during the Cold War, comments
COMPARISON AND RETROSPECT 321
that Upholder had serious teething problems, with a propensity

for the torpedo tubes to jam open, and the drive train ‘was prone
to total failure’.4
Greg Stuart, who had insisted that the electrical cables used in
Australia’s submarines be changed because of the fire risk, notes
that the Upholders had the same dangerous cables and that this
caused the rapid spread of fire on one of the submarines on its
delivery voyage to Canada.
The first of Britain’s latest class of nuclear submarines, HMS
Astute, was launched in June 2007, four years behind the original
schedule. The following month the National Audit Office reported
that the Astute project was £1.3 billion over budget.5
In the past 30 years several countries have attempted to build
submarines for the first time, most in association with the German
export team of HDW and IKL. These projects have nearly all
involved building the first one or two submarines in Germany
and then assembling later submarines in the acquiring country.
India ordered six Type 209–1500 submarines from HDW in the
early 1980s. The first two were built in Germany and delivered
in 1986 and it was planned that four would be built at Mazagon
Docks in Mumbai, although only two were ever completed. The
first two local boats were laid down in 1984, but when the pressure
hulls were examined by German technicians in 1986 not a single
weld passed inspection and the hulls had to be dismantled and
reassembled. The first Indian-built submarine was not launched
until 1989, having taken more than twice as long and cost more
than twice as much as each German-built boat.
South Korea had greater success with its acquisition of nine
Type 209–1400 submarines from HDW, ordered in the late 1980s.
The first submarine was built in Germany, the next five were
assembled in Korea from German-made kits, while the final
three had a higher local content level – though nothing like the
70 per cent achieved by the Collins project in Australia, and at
the expense of delayed schedules and increased cost.
One of the more successful submarine construction programs
has been in Turkey, where several generations of HDW submarines
have been built since the early 1970s. Again, the first three sub-
marines were built in Germany, with the next three assembled in
Turkey from kits. However, later submarines have been built in
Turkey with an increasing level of local content and technology

transfer.
The Australian submarine project was altogether more ambi-
tious than those of India, South Korea or Turkey. Australia was
not assembling a tried and tested design from kits but building a
new design, and the Collins class submarines are far more com-
plex and sophisticated than the Type 209 variants. While the
Australian media never understood the scale of the challenge being
taken on, knowledgeable foreign observers have expressed sur-
prise that Australia attempted such a massive task. The American
submariner Admiral Phil Davis says:
It was no small feat to make a small Swedish submarine with
short range into a large, long-range submarine. It is really a
radical new design. And then to take that design 12 000 miles
away to build it – there is really nothing in the history of
submarine construction that has been done like that. The
Germans will build the first two at home and then send a kit
out to another country, but in the case of Australia, they built
a whole new construction facility – a new yard, with a new
work force. It was a huge undertaking, a monumental feat
and a credit to Australia, to Kockums and to ASC.6
The Collins class submarines each have almost four million parts,
75 kilometres of cable, 200 000 on-board connections, 23.5 kilo-
metres of pipe, 14 000 pipe welds and 34.5 kilometres of hull
welding. These figures are impressive, but even more striking is the
systems integration task involved in assembling the submarines.
Using components from many countries, ASC installed hundreds
of electronic, electrical and mechanical systems and ensured they
worked together as intended. The Collins submarine project was
the biggest systems integration task ever undertaken in Australia.
The submarine project involved far more risks than were
admitted – at least publicly – at the time the contracts were
signed. The original requirement that the winning submarine
design should be in service or close to in service with a parent
navy was quietly dropped and the Swedish design that won the
competition was, as its detractors claimed, a paper boat. Further,
it was a bold and innovative design, as the Swedes had sensed
that their chance to win lay with meeting the high demands of
Australia’s submariners, flushed with the success of the Oberon
modernisation and the excitement of their Cold War surveillance

missions. Choosing the Swedish design was, as Hans Ohff says,
‘a hugely risky and almost reckless decision’. Overall, however,
the risk paid off, with the result that Australia ended up with a far
more advanced submarine than the conservative German design
or those submarines – such as the British Upholder and the Dutch
Walrus – that more nearly met the original in-service requirement.
However, having abandoned the ‘in service with a parent navy’
concept, the Australian navy took more than a decade to realise
that this meant that it would be the parent navy – the new sub-
marines were treated in the same way as new sinks for the galley
or socks for the sailors.
Buying weapons always means making a judgment of techno-
logical risk. There is no point in buying new spears – cheap and
reliable as they might be – if your opponent has rifles. The risk
of choosing a cheap and easily constructed design was never bet-
ter illustrated than when Australian pilots flying Wirraways were
sent to fight Japanese Zeros in the early months of 1942.
But it is equally dangerous to attempt to push technology too
far and have weapons that do not work or a project that fails com-
pletely – scenarios that Australia flirted with at times during the
new submarine project. In the late 1990s there was a widespread
public perception that the project was a disaster, and several senior
cabinet ministers argued that the project should be closed down.
While the problems with the submarines were exaggerated, they
were nonetheless real. There were many relatively minor faults
with HMAS Collins that can be seen as ‘first of class issues’, but
there were more serious problems that affected the whole class –
a dysfunctional combat system, unreliable diesel engines, faulty
propellers and excessive noise.
In many ways the most serious issue with the whole project
was not the shortcomings of the submarines but the difficulty in
reaching agreement on what the problems really were and deciding
who was responsible for fixing them. The project was carried out
under a fixed-price contract and from the outset there was a deter-
mination to avoid changes that would increase the price. Conse-
quently, the project office and ASC became focused on building
submarines to the performance specifications set out in the 1987
contract. However, it proved difficult during the sea trials of the
early boats in the late 1990s to establish whether performance
specifications had been met, and even harder to get the parties
involved to agree on whether they had been met. This was further
complicated because the navy’s expectations had changed since
the specifications were established, due primarily to advances in
technology. What the 1987 contract laid down was not always
what the navy wanted in 1997, yet under a fixed-price contract
ASC was determined (and well within its rights) to do no more
than it was contractually bound to do.
There was no effective mechanism for resolving the disputes
over whether the specifications had been met or for meeting the
navy’s enhanced expectations. ASC, Kockums, the project office,
the navy and the newly-established Defence Acquisitions Organi-
sation spent several years shouting at each other and threatening
litigation, while relatively straightforward engineering problems
went unfixed. Not surprisingly, the media and politicians mis-
took the cacophony of noise coming from the submarine project
as showing that the submarines were seriously flawed. Equally
unsurprisingly, politicians found it impossible to resist the temp-
tation to use the project’s disarray for political point-scoring.
Many people have seen the fixed-price contract with limited
contingency as the main cause of the project’s problems, arguing
that it meant there was limited money to fix faults and no flexibil-
ity to allow for changed operational requirements or technological
progress. Peter Briggs has noted that of the $1.17 billion allo-
cated to ‘fix’ the submarines after the McIntosh-Prescott report,
only $143 million was for areas where the submarines failed to
meet the contractual requirements (in other words, to fix the sub-
marines); $300 million was for changed operational requirements
and $727 million for technological obsolescence. He argues that
the submarines should have been treated as a research and devel-
opment project, with DSTO, the SWSC and the submarine oper-
ators continuously involved and some form of flexible alliance
contract with the builder.
On the other hand, the contractors themselves, along with
Oscar Hughes, argue that the fixed-price contract had substan-
tial benefits. The greatest of these is that the project was a rar-
ity among military procurements in that the original budget was
still relevant at the end of the project. The general public percep-
tion – encouraged by members of the Coalition government – is
that the project was a financial disaster.7 This is not true. While
there are arguments about the extent to which money allocated to

projects such as ‘fast track’ and the replacement combat system
should be added to the original budget or classified as improve-
ments over the 1987 contract requirements, the fact is that the sub-
marines were built to within 3–4 per cent of the original contract
price after allowing for inflation. Even if all the extra expenditure
on improvements is included then the project came in within
20 per cent of the original budget.8 Few military projects have
been as financially successful.
The contrast between Collins and a genuinely disastrous
project is startling. For example, in 1997 a contract was signed to
buy 11 Sea Sprite helicopters, to be in service in 2003 at a cost of
$750 million. However, the attempt to customize the helicopters
by putting highly sophisticated weapons systems into Vietnam
War era bodies has been a complete failure. By 2007 the heli-
copters had cost over $1 billion and would not be operational
until at least 2011, if ever.9
Given that the submarines were the most complex and ambi-
tious military project ever undertaken in Australia, its financial
success can only be regarded as an extraordinary achievement.
The project was less successful in keeping to its schedule,
although again it compares well with other major projects. On
average the submarines were delivered about 26 months behind
schedule.10 However, the timetable for the withdrawal of the
Oberons from service did not allow for any delays with the Collins
project. One of the main reasons for the atmosphere of crisis
around the project in the late 1990s was that the last Oberons
were due to be withdrawn before any of the new submarines had
been accepted by the navy as being fit for operations.
By far the most significant problem of the Collins class was
the failure of the combat system. If it had been delivered on time
and with the capabilities asked for by the navy and promised by
the contractors, then the teething problems with the submarines
would have been regarded as being normal for a ‘first of class’. But
while the combat system caused great difficulties, the ship control
and management system, which was initially regarded as a greater
risk, has been a notable success.
An often forgotten reality is that, of the myriad systems that
make up the submarines, the vast majority have worked smoothly
from the first; a small proportion of systems had problems that
were quickly resolved, and an even smaller proportion – diesel

engines, propellers and hydrodynamics – had more serious prob-
lems. These problems lay at the heart of the dissension of the late
1990s and were eventually resolved with vital contributions from
the technical staff on the project team, Australian defence scien-
tists and the US Navy. It is often forgotten, in the rush to apportion
blame for the things that went wrong, that the vast majority of
things went right and that Kockums as the designers and ASC as
the contractors – with the guidance of the project team – were
responsible for these. If the project was a success, the greatest
credit should go to the designers and the builders.
Much of the dissonance within the submarine project stemmed
from the differing aims and ambitions of groups and organisations
involved. At the two extremes: the submariners assumed that the
only purpose of the project was to give them fabulous new sub-
marines, but to the left of the Labor Party and the trade unions,
which gave the project critical support in the early days, the central
purposes of the project were to give jobs to metal workers, revive
manufacturing industry and forge closer links with Sweden, the
socialist paradise. The navy was divided between the submariners
and the surface sailors, many of whom saw the submarines as tak-
ing money that could be used for surface ships, while within the
Defence Department many bureaucrats opposed the fundamental
premises of the project, notably the requirement for large, long-
range submarines and the arguments for building in Australia.
These differences were compounded when the project became a
political punching bag after its godfather, Kim Beazley, became
opposition leader in 1996.
In spite of the difficulties, problems and obstacles, there is an
overwhelming consensus among military insiders (in stark con-
trast to the view of the general public) that the submarine project
was a great success. It is now regularly claimed that the Collins
class are ‘the finest conventional submarines in the world’.11 This
claim is difficult to assess, if only because they are like no other
conventional submarines as the navy demanded, and received,
unique submarines for a unique strategic situation. There are now
newer submarines with some features that are clearly superior
to the Collins class, but Collins will have the range, submerged
endurance, battery recharging rate and speed to suit the needs of
the Australian (and American) navies for many years to come.
The other claim made by enthusiasts for the Collins class is

that the submarine project ranks alongside the Snowy Moun-
tains Scheme as a nation-building engineering achievement. This
proposition is partially negated by the inherently unproductive
and wasteful nature of military spending (however necessary it
may be), which diverts resources from more productive uses.
The Snowy Mountains Scheme was totally paid for with the rev-
enue from hydro-electricity, allowing an average of over 2 mil-
lion megalitres of water annually to be supplied to the states at
no charge. In stark contrast, the submarines were a charge on
taxpayers and they continue to demand huge amounts of money.
Large and continuing spending is needed to maintain the effective-
ness of all complex military equipment, and there are few systems
more complex – or having higher demands for safe operation –
than a submarine. During 2007–08 the submarine fleet will cost
$322 million to maintain, 38 per cent more than the eight Anzac
frigates and the single most expensive class of equipment in the
defence force.12
Nonetheless there are parallels between the projects. The
Snowy Mountains Scheme was the headline project of Australia’s
rapid economic development in the years after the Second World
War, while the submarine project was a centrepiece of economic
restructuring following the malaise of the 1970s and early 1980s.
At a time when Australian manufacturing industry appeared to
be in terminal decline with outdated technology and equipment,
poor industrial relations and dependence on tariffs and subsidies,
the Collins project was deliberately structured to demonstrate an
alternative approach. When choosing the consortium to design
and build the submarine, issues of modern construction tech-
niques, technology transfer and Australian industry involvement
were as important as the design itself. A central and startling aim
of the project was that 70 per cent of the money should be spent in
Australia. Previous projects had uniformly failed to meet far less
ambitious targets, but the Collins project achieved its Australian
content ambitions with a margin to spare. This money was paid to
many sub-contractors large and small throughout Australia, and
with the money came new technology and training, and an empha-
sis on quality control previously foreign to Australian industry.
The Collins project was the first time that Australia developed
a unique design for the country’s specific military requirements
rather than buying a product designed for another country’s needs.

This presented great challenges to the navy, which took many
years to understand and accept the demands of being the parent
navy for the Collins class, but it had the consequence that Aus-
tralian industry was forced to expand its horizons in many direc-
tions. ASC and its sub-contractors developed new skills in project
management, design, manufacturing and systems integration, and
ASC built up the management abilities and systems to construct
six submarines in Australia and manage the hundreds of overseas
and Australian suppliers. This involved the development of a myr-
iad of relationships between overseas and Australian companies
embracing 10 countries with diverse cultures, standards and prac-
tices. Australian companies and Australian workers successfully
completed a wide array of challenging processes, perhaps most
notably the manufacture and fabrication of steel for the pressure
hulls. The welding on all the Australian-built sections of the sub-
marines is probably better than has been achieved anywhere else
in the world.
In many areas of the project Australian research and develop-
ment was crucial, notably in the work of DSTO and the techni-
cal staff of the project office. In many different ways the work
of DSTO scientists focused on dealing with the unique nature
of the project. In earlier days it provided the technological basis
to do things never before attempted in Australia. In later times,
DSTO grappled with and overcame the unexpected problems that
inevitably arose when doing things for the first time. This effort
demonstrated the importance of sustaining in Australia a body of
technical knowledge, a mode of operation and links with indus-
try and overseas colleagues and institutions to provide a range of
options and answers.
The submarine project did not achieve all the high hopes held
out for it in the mid-1980s, but given the scale of the ambitions this
is not surprising. Perhaps if the ambitions had not been pitched at
such a high level the true scale of the achievement might be recog-
nised, because there are many things in the Collins story that are
remarkable. For the first time the Australian navy has sustained
a submarine force from one class of boat to another. Even if not
entirely accepted throughout the navy, the role and effectiveness
of submarines in Australia’s defence has been established. That
this should be done through a full-scale industrial program to
produce what Australia had never before produced is even more

remarkable. Australia now has a type of submarine with a range,
endurance and speed that cannot be matched by any other con-
ventional submarine. That the accomplishment was marked by
acrimony, controversy and bitterness perhaps simply reflects the
magnitude of the project and the scale of the achievement. That
there is a pervasive public perception of failure is an irony that
the many people who dedicated years of their lives to the project
find hard to comprehend.
Perhaps the greatest irony of the project is that the crisis of
the late 1990s paved the way for not only building another class
of submarines in Australia, but designing them here as well. The
problems of the submarines, and the impasse reached between
Kockums and the Commonwealth over the solutions to the prob-
lems, forced Australia to look to its own resources. This resulted
in a great expansion of research and development capacity on
submarine issues and ASC’s recognition as the design authority
for the Collins class. Both major political parties now feel owner-
ship of the submarines – Labor for building them and the Liber-
als for fixing them – and there is a consensus that the next class
of submarines should be designed and built in Australia. In the
heat and noise of the late 1990s this would have been almost
unimaginable.
NOTES
Introduction
1. It remained so until the goverment’s decision in 2007 to spend $6.6 billion on
F/A18 F Super Hornets and $8 billion on air warfare destroyers.
Chapter 1. ‘The one class of vessel that it is impossible

to build in Australia: Australia’s early submarines
1. Melbourne Age, 12 July 1928, Sydney Sun, 12 October 1928.
2. Michael W. D. White, Australian submarines: A history, Australian Government
Publishing Service, Canberra, 1992, p. 157.
3. Letter of 20 April 1904, in Lord Fisher, Records, Hodder & Stoughton, London,
1919, p. 175.
4. Creswell to Minister for Defence, 13 December 1907, National Archives of
Australia (NAA) Series MP178, item 2215/3/95; also NAA series MP178/2,
item 2286/3/54.
5. Jan Rueger, ‘The last word in outward splendour: the cult of the Navy and the
imperial age’, in David Stevens & John Reeve (eds), The navy and the nation:
The influence of the navy on modern Australia, Allen & Unwin, Sydney, 2005,
p. 51.
6. ibid.
7. John Jeremy, Cockatoo Island: Sydney’s historic dockyard, 2nd edn, UNSW
Press, Sydney, 2005, pp. 30–1.
8. Letter from A. Dawson, a director of Vickers, to Captain Robert Collins
(Australian naval representative in London), 24 September 1907, NAA series
MP178, item 2286/3/54.
9. The full story of AE2 and its crew is told in Fred & Elizabeth Brenchley, Stoker’s
submarine, HarperCollins, Sydney, 2001. Commander Stoker gave a dramatic
first person account in H. G. Stoker, Straws in the wind, Herbert Jenkins,
London, 1925. For an assessment of the strategic significance of AE2’s
achievement see
T. R. Frame & G. J. Swinden, First in, last out: The navy at Gallipoli, Kangaroo
10. NAA series MP1049/1, item 1920/0416, ‘Submarines AE1 and AE2 –
replacement of.’
11. Chris Clark, ‘Vice Admiral Sir William Clarkson, KBE, CMG, RAN: building
ships for the navy and the nation,’ in Stevens & Reeve, n 5 above, pp. 314–16;
C. Forster, ‘Australian manufacturing and the war of 1914–18’, Economic
record, XXIX, 1953, pp. 211–30.
12. J. D. Perkins, ‘The Canadian-built British H boats’,
http://www.gwpda.org/naval/cdnhboat.htm.
330
NOTES TO PAGES 7–16 331
13. Commonwealth parliamentary debates, House of Representatives,

27 May 1915, p. 3498.
14. ibid., and Jeremy, Cockatoo Island, n 7 above, p. 144.
15. White, Australian submarines, n 2 above, chs. 10 and 11.
16. Chief of Naval Staff to Third Naval Member, 23 November 1920, NAA series
MP1049/1, item 1920/0416, ‘Construction of warships in Australia, 1914–19’.
17. Third Naval Member to Chief of Naval Staff, 25 November 1920, ibid.
18. General manager, Cockatoo Island Dockyard to Secretary, Department of the
Navy, 16 December 1920, in ibid.
19. Quoted in White, Australian submarines, n 2 above, pp. 123–4. The source is
given as a report in NAA series MP981, item 603/223/305. Unfortunately, this
file has been missing since 1994, so it has not been possible to read the full
report.
20. Oxley was torpedoed in the North Sea by another British submarine on 14
September 1939; Otway survived the war and ‘ended her days as a hulk
abandoned on a mud bank somewhere near Dar es Salaam, Africa’. White,
Australian submarines, n 2 above, p. 164.
21. John Jeremy, ‘Australian shipbuilding and the impact of the Second World War’,
in Stevens & Reeve, The navy and the nation, n 5 above, pp. 185–209.
22. David Stevens, The Royal Australian Navy, The Australian Centenary History
of Defence, vol. III, Oxford University Press, Melbourne, 2001, pp. 168–70.
23. Jeremy, ‘Australian shipbuilding and the impact of the Second World War’, in
Stevens & Reeve, The navy and the nation, n 5 above,
pp. 197–8.
Chapter 2. Australia’s Oberon class submarines

2. Attachment to Chiefs of Staff Committee Minute 19 October 1959, NAA series
A8447, item 113/1959, ‘Composition of the Forces – proposed introduction of a
submarine force into the RAN’.
3. Commonwealth parliamentary debates, House of Representatives,
27 March 1962, p. 946.
4. Information from Henry Cook and Bill Owen. These former Royal Navy
submarine commanders became the first and second directors of submarine
policy in the RAN.
5. Weymouth to Opperman, 23 January 1963, NAA series A1945, item 243/3,
‘Construction of submarines for RAN’.
6. The secretary of the Department of Defence explained to his minister on 31
October 1963, ‘It is considered important to be able to demonstrate that every
effort has been made to ascertain whether at least some portion of submarine
construction could be undertaken in Australia . . . the Navy considers this action
will merely waste time’, in ibid.
7. Melbourne Sun, 24 January 1963.
8. Melbourne Age, 12 February 1963.
9. ibid., 16 February 1963.
10. Canberra Times, 11 February 1963.
11. Melbourne Age, 13 February 1963.
12. Department of the Navy, 4 February 1963, NAA series A1945, item 243/3,
‘Construction of submarines for RAN’.
13. Report for the Joint War Production Committee by the Department of the Navy,
October 1963, in ibid.
332 NOTES TO PAGES 16–27
14. Secretary, Department of the Navy to Secretary, Department of Defence, 14 June

1963, in ibid.
15. Joint War Production Committee Minute, 29 October 1963, in ibid.
16. We are grateful to John Jeremy for this reference.
17. Gorton to Townley, 6 November 1963, in Department of the Navy,
‘Construction of submarines for RAN’, n 12 above. John Jeremy feels that
Gorton, with his known opposition to building in Australia, may have been
careless with the truth in his interpretation of this phone call.
18. Jeremy, Cockatoo Island, n 1 above, p. 148.
19. ibid., p. 151.
20. ibid.
21. Interview with John Jeremy, 23 June 2005.
Chapter 3. The submarine weapons update program and the

origins of the new submarine project
1. It was only during the 1970s that the term ‘combat system’ came into vogue to
describe the suite of sensors, weapons and fire control system installed on a
military ‘platform’ – which could be a surface ship, submarine, aircraft, or tank
– and the combat system only gradually came to be regarded as a distinct entity
that could be bought and installed separately. Some naval architects strongly
resist the combat system/platform dichotomy. John Jeremy, for example, says
that ‘calling ships, submarines and aircraft “platforms” is one of my pet hates
because it ignores the fact that a warship is a closely integrated weapons system
and the best combat system in the world is useless unless the ship in which it is
fitted can float, move and fight’. Email to authors, 14 April 2006.
2. Interview with Ian MacDougall.
3. Interview with Ian MacDougall.
4. Interview with Peter Briggs, 7 March 2006.
5. John Jeremy, ‘Submarine refitting in Australia’, paper read to a meeting of the
Royal Institution of Naval Architects, 16 April 1980, p. 66.
6. Interview with Rod Fayle, one of the directors of the SWSC during the Oberon
update program.
7. Clark probably had the longest involvement in the submarine project of any
individual: in 2007 he was managing the weapons and combat system upgrades
for the Collins submarines.
8. This discussion of the submarine weapons update program and the SWSC is
based primarily on interviews with Mick Millington, Andrew Johnson, Orm
Cooper, Rod Fayle, Bill Owen, Frank Owen, John Pascall, Rick Neilson, Peter
Briggs, Ian MacDougall, Keith Snell, Bob Clark and Terry Roach.
9. Acting Captain Barry Nobes, ‘Brief for Chief, Naval operational requirements
and plans for the Defence Operational Requirements Committee consideration
of NSR 1114 – new construction submarine’, 24 July 1978.
10. Although this history is resolutely minimising the use of acronyms, it was
tempting to refer to the defence operational requirements committee as ‘DORC’.
Press, Sydney, 2005, p. 156. The formal ties between Cockatoo Island and the
British Vickers company ended with the nationalisation of Vickers in 1977, but
informal links between the companies remained close.
12. Vickers Cockatoo Dockyard Pty Ltd, Submarine construction feasibility study,
Report No. 6, ‘Executive Summary’, p. 5. NAA CRS M3080 item 10.
13. ibid., p. 5.
14. ibid., p. 9.
15. ibid., p. 23.
Chapter 4. The new submarine project

1. Interview with Rod Fayle, 26 April 2006.
2. Captain Graham White, Minute, ‘Justification of capability for the new
construction submarine’, 18 January 1985. The recitation of the same
arguments two years later was in response to another attempt by the force
structure committee to redirect the project.
3. Sonars determine the location of underwater sound sources by correlating
results from a number of receivers. Towed array sonars have receivers along a
cable towed behind a vessel; flank array sonars are attached to the side of a
submarine’s hull.
4. Interview with Alan Wrigley.
5. Admiral Peter Briggs convincingly set out the arguments for conventional
submarines in discussions with the authors, but he was equally convincing in his
arguments for nuclear submarines in a submission to the federal government’s
inquiry into the establishment of a nuclear industry in Australia. See the
Melbourne Age, 5 September 2006.
6. This account of the nuclear submarine option is based primarily on interviews
with Graham White, Ian Noble, Peter Horobin, Bill Rourke, Rod Fayle and
Eoin Asker.
7. On the other hand, Rod Fayle is emphatic that the planners for the new combat
system were trying to take into account the fact that in the early 1980s they were
planning a combat system that would not come into service until 1996. He does
not think they were ‘shooting for the moon’, but they did not want to be left
behind, especially as the procurement system precluded a technology update.
8. Interview with Mick Millington.
9. Rod Fayle notes that the reluctance stemmed as much from commercial
considerations as from fear of the technical challenges.
10. This comment was made by a large oil company after Hans Ohff successfully
completed a project for them – the second half of the quote was ‘but he will
always deliver’.
Chapter 5. ‘We can’t build submarines, go away’: Eglo

Engineering and the submarine project
1. Interviews with Hans Ohff, 6 February 2006, 9 February 2007.
2. Eglo Engineering Ltd, Annual report, 1979, p. 6.
3. Arbitration Commission hearing on the Ship Painters and Dockers Award,
finding by Commissioner Merriman, 14 May 1987.
4. This did not include the Soviet Union, which in the early 1980s was not in the
business of exporting arms to America’s allies, and Japan, which made excellent
submarines but whose constitution prevented it exporting armaments. The
United States has not built diesel-electric submarines since the Barbel class of the
late 1950s and has always been wary of exporting submarine technology.
5. This account of the role of Eglo Engineering in the early stages of the new
submarine project is based primarily on interviews with Hans Ohff, John White,
Graham White and Jim Duncan.
6. Paul Kelly, The end of certainty: Power, politics and business in Australia, rev.
edn, Allen & Unwin, Sydney, 1994, p. 13.
7. In late 1981 400 000 metal workers received a 24 per cent wage rise, leading to
an average wage increase of 16 per cent across the whole workforce in 1982:
ibid, p. 51.
8. Margaret Bowman and Michelle Grattan, Reformers: Shaping Australian
society from the 60s to the 80s, Collins Dove, Melbourne, 1989, ch. 13, ‘Laurie
Carmichael’, esp. p. 173.
9. John Button, Flying the kite: Travels of an Australian politician, Random

House, Sydney, 1994, pp. 44, 72.
10. Commonwealth parliamentary debates, Senate, 17 December 1992,
p. 5411.
11. Interviews with Hans Ohff and Graham White.
Chapter 6. The acts of the apostles

1. Jim Duncan, Diary for 1984. I am grateful to Jim Duncan for allowing me to
use this diary and other material relating to the South Australian bid for the
submarine project.
2. South Australian Submarine Task Force, ‘Aims and objectives’, 15 June 1984.
3. Hans Ohff recognised Rourke as a powerful supporter of building in Australia:
interview with Hans Ohff, 9 February 2007.
4. Quoted in Seapower ’81: Australia’s maritime defence and its relation to
industry, Australian Naval Institute, Canberra, 1981, p. 49.
5. South Australian Submarine Contract Task Force, ‘A study of the financial costs
and benefits of constructing submarines in Australia’, Adelaide, October 1984.
6. Graeme Cheeseman, The search for self-reliance: Australian defence since
Vietnam, Longman Cheshire, Melbourne, 1993, pp. 32–6.
7. The discussion of quality control systems is based on interviews with Andy
Millar, Oscar Hughes, Graham White, John Batten and Jim Duncan, and Derek
Woolner, ‘Getting in early: Lessons of the Collins submarine program for
improved oversight of defence procurement’, Parliamentary Library Research
Paper no 3, 2001–02, pp. 14–15.
8. John Winton, Down the hatch, Michael Joseph, London, 1961, reprinted by
Maritime Books, Liskeard, Cornwall, 2004, p. 41.
9. Patrick Tyler, Running critical: The silent war, Rickover and General Dynamics,
Harper & Row, New York, 1986, pp. 88–9.
10. R. J. L. Hawke, ‘Defence and industry’, in Seapower ’81, note 4 above, p. 45.
11. ‘Building submarines in South Australia: a case for Australia’, 12 February
1985. The author thanks Jim Duncan for providing a copy of this paper.
12. Quoted in Peter FitzSimons, Beazley, HarperCollins, Sydney, 1998,
p. 248.
13. Interview with Rod Fayle.
14. Interview with Andy Millar. The aims and membership of the committee are
outlined in a memo to Kim Beazley from R. W. Cole, the secretary of the
Department of Defence, 2 August 1985.
15. See Bill Morrison, ‘A self-reliant defence policy for Australia’, in Gareth Evans
& John Reeves (eds), Labor essays 1982: Socialist principles and parliamentary
government, Drummond Publishing, Melbourne, 1982, pp. 156–8. Morrison
was Minister for Defence in the Whitlam government in 1975.
16. Interviews with Brian Howe and Hans Ohff.
17. Quoted in FitzSimons, Beazley, note 12 above, p. 244.
18. Interviews with Kim Beazley and Brian Howe. The assertion of Beazley’s
continued popularity within the navy is based on the comments of the vast
majority of sailors and former sailors interviewed for this book.
19. Interview with Paul Dibb.
20. Quoted in FitzSimons, Beazley, n 12 above, p. 231.
21. ibid., p. 248.
22. John Button, As it happened, Text Publishing, Melbourne, 1998,
p. 251.
23. John Button, Flying the kite: Travels of an Australian politician, Random
House, Sydney, 1994, p. 73.
Chapter 7. ‘But how will you judge them?’: the tender

evaluation process 1984–85
1. Department of Defence, Force Structure Committee, Minutes, Meeting of 14
September 1982, p. 17.
2. ibid. Apart from official sources, this section is based on an interview with Alan
Wrigley.
3. ‘Request for tenders’, clause 2.23.4.1.3.
4. The ownership structure of Cockatoo Island dockyards underwent several major
changes following the 1977 nationalisation of Vickers, and the connection with
the British parent was greatly diminished. See John Jeremy, Cockatoo Island:
Sydney’s historic dockyard, 2nd edn, UNSW Press, Sydney, 2005, pp. 46–7.
5. Interviews with Hans Saeger and Juergen Ritterhoff. For details of HDW’s
submarines, see Hannes Ewerth & Peter Neumann (eds), Silent fleet: The
German designed submarine family, 2nd edn, Howaldtswerke-Deutsche Werft
AG, Kiel, 1999.
6. These details of the history of Kockums are taken from a booklet on the history
of the company published in Malmö in 1981. My thanks to Paul-E Pålsson
(President of Kockums 1987–91) for making this booklet available.
7. New Construction Submarine Project, Report of the Tender Evaluation Board
on the response received to request for tender No. T 61/72521X, 14 September
1984, pp. 3–4.
8. This was frequently commented on by interviewees, though none wished to be
quoted.
9. Graham White, who was frequently alleged to be anti-British, had spent many
years in Britain (and married an English woman) and, while he valued his
training by the Royal Navy, his experiences made him aware of the inefficiency
and backward methods of British shipyards.
10. This section is based on interviews with Graham White, Bill Rourke, Harry
Dalrymple, Andy Millar, Oscar Hughes, Bill Owen and Eoin Asker.
11. A critical deficiency was defined as ‘sufficient by itself to preclude a proposal
from further consideration as a viable contender’; an important deficiency did
‘not by itself preclude further consideration but could with other factors weigh
the comparison with other proposals’: Report of the Tender Evaluation Board,
p. 4-1.
12. Graham White notes that he kept Kim Beazley informally informed of this and
other developments with the project.
13. The indiscretion rate is the ratio of the time needed to remain at periscope depth
to recharge the batteries and the total operating time. The submarine is at its
most vulnerable when recharging its batteries so this time should be as short as
possible.
14. Report of the Tender Evaluation Board, pp. 5-9–5-15.
15. ibid., p. 5-57.
16. ibid., pp. 5-50–5-57.
17. ibid., p. 5-71.
18. ibid., p. 5-68.
19. Snorting is the process of running the submarine’s diesel engines while
submerged by drawing air through a snorkel, usually to charge the batteries.
Conventional submarines have had the capacity to do this since the introduction
of the German Type XXI submarine at the end of the Second World War.
20. Cavitation occurs when bubbles of air are separated from the water through
which the propeller is travelling, greatly increasing the submarine’s noise levels.
21. Report of the Tender Evaluation Board, p. 5-32.
22. ibid., p. 5-33.
23. While Dalrymple does not dispute this position he thinks that he probably made
the point more to contrast with what he thought was the superior quality of the
IKL/HDW design. He notes that the board report did not always accurately
report the tone or scope of discussions.
25. ibid., p. 5-20.
26. ibid., p. 6-4.
27. ibid., p. 6-38.
28. ibid., p. 6-16.
29. Interview with Ron Dicker.
31. ibid., p. 6-13.
32. ibid., p. 6-45.
33. ibid., p. 7-4.
34. ibid., p. 8-25.
35. ibid., p. 5-67.
36. ibid., p. 5-68.
37. ibid., p. 5-68.
38. Diary of Jim Duncan, 21 November 1984; Carney Hocking & Day, ‘Report with
recommendations to Vickers Shipbuilding and Engineering Limited’, May 1984.
40. ibid., p. 8-23.
41. ibid., p. 8-27.
42. ibid., p. 9-3.
43. ibid., p. 9-1.
44. ibid., p. 10-1.
45. ibid., p. 9-5.
46. ibid., p. 9-3.
Chapter 8. Spies, leaks and sackings: from tender evaluation

to project definition study
1. Notes from Hans Ohff to author, 24 June 2007.
2. Interview with Hans Saeger and Juergen Ritterhoff.
3. ibid.
4. Ohff, n 1 above.
5. Interview with Roger Sprimont.
6. Interview with Ross Milton.
7. This account of the memorandum of understanding between Australia and
Sweden is based on interviews with Carl JohanÅberg, Roine Carlsson, Kim
Beazley, Kurt Blixt and Ebbe Sylven.
8. The story is told in the Australian, 27 August 1986.
9. Interview with Carl JohanÅberg.
10. Ken Aldred, MHR, Member for Bruce, Media release, 19 October 1986.
11. Interview with Andy Millar.
12. This summation of the incident is based on interviews with Graham White,
Oscar Hughes, Andy Millar, Rod Fayle, Fred Bennett, Juergen Ritterhoff and
Olle Holmdahl.
13. Communication from Oscar Hughes to authors, 5 July 2007.
14. Story related by Jim Duncan.
15. The section on the states’ campaigns is based on interviews with John Bannon,
Jim Duncan, Ross Milton, Roger Sprimont, Graham White and Geoff Rose.
Chapter 9. The project definition study 1985–86

1. Notes to the authors, July 2007.
2. Serving submariners such as John Dikkenberg and Denis Mole, who had not
been closely involved in the evaluations, thought the British or Dutch designs
would emerge as the winners: interviews with John Dikkenberg and Denis Mole.
3. This was initially the thought of Roger Sprimont.
4. This account of how the selection of the design study participants was viewed is
based on interviews with Andrew Johnson, Greg Stuart, Oscar Hughes and
Mick Millington.
5. Ron Dicker recalls that the project wanted to post both Fayle and Neilson to
Anaheim, but Signaal protested against posting two senior pre-PDS team
members to Rockwell as it appeared to confirm a bias.
6. Oscar Hughes, Director General New Submarine, Minute, Team leaders
overseas project office teams, 6 August 1985.
7. Note from Greg Stuart to authors, 24 June 2006.
8. Interview with Hans Saeger and Juergen Ritterhoff. This summary of the
experience of the overseas liaison teams is based on interviews with Mick
Millington, Rod Fayle, Rick Neilson, John Dikkenberg, Greg Stuart, Roger
Sprimont, Olle Holmdahl, Hans Saeger and Juergen Ritterhoff.
9. Commonwealth Government Solicitor, Annex, Letter to HDW legal
representatives, August 1988, p. 1.
10. The description of CMACS and its development is based on
interviews with Oscar Hughes, John Batten, Roger Sprimont and Hans Saeger.
11. Notes to authors, 5 July 2007.
12. Interview with Juergen Ritterhoff.
13. Interview with Rod Fayle.
14. Juergen Ritterhoff, letter to Jane’s Defence Weekly, 12 June 1987.
15. Oscar Hughes, Submarine Project Director, Letter to Australian Maritime
Systems, April 1987.
16. Fred Bennett, Chief of Capital Procurement, Ministerial correspondence, 8 May
1987.
17. The escape sphere was a rescue vessel built into the submarine structure but
with little application in the Australian environment, and the project team ‘had
some misgivings about its possible impact on structural integrity’.
18. Interview with Oscar Hughes, 3 July 2007.
19. In addition to official sources, this account of the preliminary design review is
based on interviews with Hans Saeger, Jurgen Ritterhoff, Olle Holmdahl, Eoin
Asker, Andrew Johnson, Mick Millington, Rod Fayle, Rick Neilson and Hans
Ohff.
20. Paul Dibb, Review of Australia’s Defence Capabilities, AGPS, Canberra 1986,
p. 123.
21. Interview with Rick Neilson.
22. Interview with Andrew Johnson.
23. Interview with Mick Millington.
24. Information from Ron Dicker, who headed the Signaal bid.
25. This account of the development of Kockums’ Type 471 design is based on
interviews with Greg Stuart, Roger Sprimont, Olle Holmdahl, Gunnar Öhlund,
Hans Peder Loid and Tore Svensson.
26. Peter Bowler, Australian Marine Systems, letter to the Department of Defence,
30 April 1987.
Chapter 10. Debating the laws of physics: picking winners

1987
1. Submarine Evaluation Team Report, p. 4-2.
2. ibid., p. 4-4.
3. ibid., p. 4-4.
4. Interview with Mark Gairey.
6. Email from Hans Saeger to Peter Yule, 4 December 2006. Herr Saeger
apologised for his ‘Germish’ but the meaning is clear.
7. Notes from Greg Stuart to authors, June 2007.
9. ibid., p. 4-27.
10. Peter Briggs’ response is: ‘I certainly tried to persuade them to put in a
more modern ship control system, along the lines of the SWSC-developed
concept design and they largely did so, whilst preserving the manual fall
back.’
11. Interviews with Pelle Stenberg, Peter Hatcher, Peter Briggs, Bob Clark, Greg
Stuart and Ron Dicker.
13. ibid., p. 8-2.
14. Interview with Ron Dicker.
16. Ted Vanderhoek comments that ‘The majority of the technical evaluation team
felt that neither contender’s specifications were sufficiently developed to contract
against prior to the decision being made and contract awarded. As both
proposals were paper designs, little supporting information was available to
independently evaluate end system performance, hence, the evaluation was
centred on ensuring the contractors’ lower level specifications covered the Navy
requirements.’ Note to authors, July 2007.
17. Interviews with Greg Stuart, Mark Gairey and John Dikkenberg.
18. Email to the authors, 24 July 2007.
20. Minutes, Chief of Naval Staff Advisory Committee, meeting of
16 January 1987.
21. Oscar Hughes, Submarine Project Director, Minute to Chief of Naval Staff and
Chief of Capital Procurement, 16 April 1987.
23. Roger Sprimont reported the difficulties to Sweden and a Kockums board
meeting told him to expel CBI from the consortium. Sprimont was furious and
said he would return to Sweden if this instruction was not revoked, as the
answer showed how little understanding there was of the project team in
Sweden. He knew that Kockums lacked the expertise to run the project in the
way that CBI could.
24. Note to authors, August 2007.
25. The contract does mention boat speed where it refers to cavitation, but in a
clause where the language is not prescriptive.
26. It is interesting that, over the subsequent history of the project, contract changes
did not generate the excessive price increases that had been symptomatic of
earlier defence capital procurement.
27. This account of the contract negotiations is based on interviews with Kim
Beazley, Peter Hider, Fred Bennett, Ron McLaren, Roger Sprimont, Geoff Davis,
Olle Holmdahl, Pelle Stenberg and Patrick Walters.
28. Ritterhoff’s comments quoted in Heinz Schulte, Frank Cranston & Tony Banks,
‘IKL accuses Australia over Type 2000 submarine rejection’, Jane’s Defence
Weekly, 18 July 1987, pp. 1087–8.
29. Note from Oscar Hughes to authors, August 2007.
30. Interview with John Bannon.
Chapter 11. ‘Keen as mustard to do a good job’: setting to

work 1987–89
1. Interview with Olle Holmdahl.
2. Interview with Pelle Stenberg.
3. Interview with Tomy Hjorth.
4. Peter Donovan, A brief history of Australian Submarine Corporation Pty
Limited, ASC, Adelaide, March 1990, p. 26. This history was based on
interviews with many of those involved in the early years of ASC.
5. Interview with Tore Svensson.
6. Note to authors, June 2007.
7. Interviews with Roine Carlsson and Olle Person.
8. Interview with Ove Gustafsson.
9. These figures are taken from a ‘contract tree’ prepared by the submarine project
office in December 1996. They relate only to the submarine contract and not to
the combat system contract.
10. Interview with Karl Bertil Stein.
11. Interview with Paddy Hodgman.
Chapter 12. Designing the Collins class

1. This chapter is based primarily on interviews with Peter Briggs, Don Chalmers,
Mick Dunne, Ulf Edman, Martin Edwards, Mark Gairey, Ian Hill, Olle
Holmdahl, Oscar Hughes, Hans Peder Loid, Gunnar Öhlund, Roger Sprimont,
Pelle Stenberg, Greg Stuart and Tore Svensson.
2. Note from Pelle Stenberg, May 2007.
3. Olle Holmdahl, ‘The Collins class submarines’, paper presented at the National
Engineering Conference in Adelaide, 8–10 April 1995.
4. This discussion is based on interviews with Hans Peder Loid, Ian Hill, Don
Chalmers and Mark Gairey.
5. Interview with Mick Dunne.
6. Ulf Edman, who was commodore of the Swedish submarine squadron during
the 1980s, says that the large number of torpedo tubes in the Swedish
submarines was because their wartime function would be to fire as many
torpedoes as possible at a Soviet invasion fleet.
7. Sonoston is an alloy of manganese and copper.
8. Mark Gairey notes that: ‘The design of the bow bulkhead is an over-kill. When
we had Kockums do detailed calculations of a number of possible failure
scenarios in 2002, it was found that the forward bulkhead structure was one of
the strongest parts of the hull.’
9. Greg Stuart notes that: ‘The near loss of a Canadian submarine in 2004 was a
direct result of having the same cabling as originally proposed for Collins.’
10. Note to the authors, 9 July 2007.
11. The development of the anechoic tiles for the new submarines is outlined in ch.
15.
Chapter 13. Building submarines

1. Interview with Mark Gobell.
2. This discussion of the welding on the Swedish sections is based on interviews
with Greg Stuart, Mark Gairey, Roger Sprimont, Paul-E Pålsson, Pelle Stenberg
and Pär Bunke.
3. The welding problems at Kockums were first mentioned in the project office’s
quarterly report for June 1990.
4. This account of the assembly of the submarines by ASC is based on interviews
with Simon Ridgway, Robert Lemonius, Mark Gobell, Martin Edwards, Ross
Milton, Pelle Stenberg and John Ritter.
5. HMAS Collins was named after Vice-Admiral Sir John Collins, captain of
HMAS Sydney at the Battle of Cape Matapan and the first Australian to
command the Australian squadron and to become chief of the naval staff.
Rear-Admiral Harold Farncomb was the first Australian-trained officer to reach
the rank of captain and commanded HMAS Australia from 1941 to 1944 before
taking over the Australian squadron when Collins was wounded in a kamikaze
attack. Captain H. M. L. Waller commanded the famous ‘scrap iron flotilla’ in
HMAS Stuart in the Mediterranean in 1940–41, before taking command of
HMAS Perth. He was killed when Perth was sunk in the Battle of the Sunda
Strait on 1 March 1942. Dechaineux was named for Captain Emile Dechaineux
who, as commanding officer of HMAS Australia, was killed in a kamikaze
attack on 21 October 1944 (Collins was wounded in the same attack). Ordinary
Seaman Edward Sheean died on HMAS Armidale on 29 November 1942, when
he continued firing his anti-aircraft gun after the order had been given to
abandon ship. Lieutenant-Commander R. W. Rankin assumed command of the
sloop HMAS Yarra in February 1942 and was killed the following month when
Yarra attempted to protect a convoy against overwhelmingly superior Japanese
forces off Java.
6. For an account of the development of the steel and welding techniques used, see
ch. 15.
Chapter 14. The automated integrated vision

1. Minister for Defence, News Release no. 67/87, 18 May 1987.
2. This discussion of the problems in development of the combat system is based
on interviews with Ian MacDougall, Oscar Hughes, Mick Millington, Rick
Neilson, Ron Dicker, John Pascall, Rod Farrow, Chris Miller, Tony Smith, Bob
Clark, Ted Vanderhoek and Tomy Hjorth.
3. Colin Cooper, ‘Collins combat system development – key issues’, note to the
authors, February 2007.
4. Note to authors, March 2007.
5. Interview with Chris Miller, who worked on the combat system project for
Computer Sciences from 1989 to 1996.
6. Ron Dicker recalls that Signaal was similarly encouraged to use 68000
processors in its bid.
7. Chris Miller, ‘The Collins class combat system: a personal view of what went
wrong and how to fix it’, submission to the McIntosh-Prescott review, 1999.
8. This paragraph is based on interviews with Rod Farrow, Chris Miller and Rick
Neilson.
9. Interview with Rod Farrow.
10. Even the most innovative recruiting methods were not enough to maintain
numbers. Rod Fayle was training as a surface sailor when he was promised that
he could escort Miss Australia while she was visiting England if he signed up as
a submariner.
11. Email from Gösta Hardebring to author, 17 November 2006.

12. Ron Dicker also notes that: ‘The fact that system design, selection of hardware
and development of software were all under a single responsibility was the key
to the ability to resolve the problems.’
13. Interview with Jack Atkinson.
14. Interview with Peter Hatcher.
15. Note from Peter Hugonnet to authors, 25 July 2007.
16. Department of Defence minute paper, SPD 6742/91, 14 November 1991.
Chapter 15. Steel, sonars and tiles: early technological

support for the submarines
1. This section is largely based on an interview with John Ritter and a paper
prepared by Ritter, in conjunction with Bob Phillips and Brian Dixon, to assist
the authors.
2. This is an indication that the parameters of the test were devised in the USA,
where an industry norm temperature of 0◦ F was mandated.
3. Captain Terry Roach, RAN, Director Submarine Warfare, Minute ‘DSTO sonar
proposal’, 16 February 1987.
4. The term means ‘no echo’.
5. In German mythology Albericht was a dwarf with a magic cap that made him
invisible.
6. Chief of Navy Staff Advisory Committee, Minutes, 16 February 1987, p. 4.
Chapter 16. ‘On time and on budget’

1. This section is based in part on interviews with Ross Milton, Paul-E Pålsson,
Ron McLaren, Oscar Hughes, Pär Bunke, Mike Houghton, Geoff Davis and
Hans Ohff.
2. Malcolm McIntosh, Minute to Minister, 24 October 1988, submarine project
file N88 – 17961 part 3.
3. This account of the takeover of Wormald is based on interviews with Geoff
Davis and Sir Laurence Muir, who was a member of Wormald’s board, and
Wormald’s annual reports 1984–89.
4. Interview with Peter Horobin, who observed Kockums while working as a
consultant for AIDC and later ASC.
5. Interview with Mike Houghton.
6. Interview with Paul-E Pålsson, president of Kockums.
7. Interview with Oscar Hughes, 16 January 2006.
8. Interview with Hans Ohff, 9 February 2007.
9. Project office quarterly report, December 1993.
10. Note to authors, July 2007.
Chapter 17. End of the honeymoon

1. Interviews with Peter Sinclair and Mike Gallagher.
2. This discussion of leadership changes draws on interviews with Geoff Rose,
Andy Millar, Doug Callow and Hans Ohff.
3. Oscar Hughes interviewed by Peter Donovan, 26 June 1993, p. 39 (copy of
interview provided by Oscar Hughes).
4. Interview with Doug Callow.
5. Oscar Hughes believes that the perception of ASC’s financial discipline was
incorrect and that ‘Don Williams was fully focused on financial performance’.
6. Ron Dicker recalls that Rockwell delivered two hard disks to ASC on
8 September 1993, which it claimed contained ‘build one’ of the software and
therefore the contractual obligation to provide the combat system by 9

September had been met. ASC tried the software but it would not load and the
default went ahead.
7. I am grateful to Pär Bunke for showing me a copy of this letter. This account of
the debate over defaulting Rockwell is based primarily on interviews with Peter
Horobin, Pär Bunke, Peter Hatcher, and Tomy Hjorth, together with the
quarterly reports of the project office and a collection of letters relating to the
issue in the possession of Pär Bunke.
8. Robert J. Cooksey, Review of Australia’s defence exports and defence industry,
AGPS, Canberra, 1986.
9. Quoted in Graeme Cheeseman, The search for self-reliance: Australian defence
since Vietnam, Longman Cheshire, Melbourne, 1993,
pp. 43–4.
10. Neal Blewett, A cabinet diary: A personal record of the first Keating
government, Wakefield Press, Adelaide, 1999, p. 169.
11. Spain and Italy were also in the market for submarines, but were unlikely to buy
from Australia as they had their own design and production capabilities.
12. Interview with Rick Neilson.
13. Information from Ron Dicker.
14. It is unlikely that the Swedish government would have approved the sale of
submarines with Swedish intellectual property to either South Korea or
Indonesia.
15. Both Geoff Rose and Pär Bunke have copies of this letter.
16. There are numerous stories on the internet on submarine sales to Taiwan, e.g.
http://www.nti.org/db/submarines/taiwan/import.html and
http://www.amiinter.com/samples/taiwan/TW2201.html
Chapter 18. The trials of Collins

1. Project office quarterly reports, November 1987, p. 19 and June 1989, p. 18.
2. The discussion of training and Collins’ early trials draws on information
provided in interviews with Mike Gallagher, Peter Sinclair, Marcos Alfonso,
Trevor Robinson, Graham White and Geoff Rose.
3. Interview with Graham White.
4. The decommissioning of the Oberons could only be delayed at great expense as
any that were kept in service for longer would require extra refits to retain their
certification, and Cockatoo Island, the only yard experienced in refitting
Oberons, was closed in 1991. In the event, the delays in the commissioning of
the Collins class submarines forced two Oberon refits to be carried out at
Garden Island at massive expense.
5. This paragraph is based on the project office quarterly reports for 1994 and an
interview with Colin Cooper, the combat system manager in the project office
from 1992 to 2003.
7. ibid., March 1995.
8. At first the dome was believed to be irreparable, but successful repairs were
carried out by Buchanan Advanced Composites in Toowoomba, Queensland,
for far less than the replacement cost of $1.5 million. Toowoomba Chronicle,
13 October 2000.
9. Paul Greenfield notes that ASC and the project office did their utmost to protect
Peter Sinclair from the naval consequences of the accident with Collins,
especially from the natural intrusion by the Fleet Commander. ‘This was a first
of class vessel under test, and neither ASC nor the project office wanted Sinclair
removed by the navy to have a lesser experienced officer take his place.’

11. Note from Marcos Alfonso to author, July 2007.
12. ibid.
13. John Dikkenberg, ‘Platform performance: Crew perspective’ and ‘Combat
system performance: Crew perspective’, June 1997.
Chapter 19. ‘They were problems we didn’t expect’

1. Adelaide Advertiser, 17 February 1994.
2. This chapter draws on views expressed in interviews by Greg Stuart, Olle
Holmdahl, Eoin Asker, Peter Sinclair, Olle Person, Hans Ohff, Andy Millar,
Peter Clarke, Don Chalmers, Hans Peder Loid, Paul Greenfield, John
Dikkenberg, Mike Gallagher and Ron Dicker.
3. The halon fire suppression system has also been a continuing problem, though
for some reason this was not identified by the media and never became the
subject of public controversy.
4. Greg Stuart identifies the crankshaft problem as ‘a definite manufacturing
problem, connecting bolts had not been torqued up to the correct torque’.
5. Similar views to this were expressed by John Dikkenberg, Mike Houghton, Paul
Greenfield and other submariners.
6. Similar views were expressed by Pelle Stenberg and Olle Person.
7. Olle Person thinks it is hard to calculate the effect of removing the flywheel,
pointing out that the generator acts to some extent as a flywheel, while Ron
Dicker and Marcos Alfonso are among those who are more definite that
removing the flywheel caused problems.
8. Note to the authors, June 2007.
9. Similar views on the deficiencies of the specifications for noise were expressed by
Peter Clarke, Don Chalmers, Greg Stuart, Olle Holmdahl and others.
10. This paragraph is based on interviews with David Whyllie, Peter Clarke, Eoin
Asker, Ron Dicker and Olle Holmdahl.
11. This paragraph is based primarily on an interview with Peter Horobin, who,
after his numerous roles in the submarine project, now works for Nautronix.
12. The almost identical shapes of the Västergötland and the original design of the
Type 471 are clearly illustrated in David Miller, Modern submarines,
Arco/Prentice Hall, New York, 1989, pp. 56–7 and 60–1.
13. Interview with Hans Peder Loid.
14. This paragraph is based primarily on an interview with Olle Holmdahl.
15. Note from Mark Gairey to author, June 2007.
17. It has been argued that the improved performance of American-supplied
propellers after 1999 disproves this point (Peter Briggs to author, May 2007),
but by then the submarine crews were more experienced in handling the
submarines.
18. Notes from Ron Dicker, May 2007.
19. This paragraph is based on interviews with Paul Greenfield, Mike Gallagher,
John Dikkenberg and Ian Hill and the project office quarterly report for June
1998.
20. Interview with Paul Greenfield; project office quarterly report, March 1996.
Chapter 20. The role of Defence Science: noise and diesels

1. This section is based on interviews with Chris Norwood, David Simcoe and
David Wyllie.
2. Unfortunately, Dr Schofield was unable to participate in this project. In 2006 he

became a non-executive director of ASC and wished to avoid any possible
conflict of interest.
3. This is not quite true with cavitation, which appears with bubbles breaking away
from the propeller blade. Nevertheless, vibration can play a role in this process.
4. This section is largely based on an interview with Dr Goodwin.
5. The authors are grateful to Janis Cocking for coordinating access to DSTO
personnel involved with the Collins submarine.
Chapter 21. ‘A patch on this and chewing gum on that’:

the combat system 1993–97
1. Managing director’s report in ASC Annual Report, 1994.
2. Chris Miller of Computer Sciences made this point strongly.
3. This discussion of the combat system draws on the project office quarterly
reports and interviews with Peter Sinclair, Mike Gallagher, John Dikkenberg,
Chris Miller and Don Chalmers.
4. Interview with John Pascall.
5. Interviews with John Pascall, Chris Miller, Rod Farrow and Tony Houseman.
6. Interviews with Rick Neilson and Tony Smith.
7. A former Oberon commanding officer, Tony Smith was Peter Briggs’s deputy at
the SWSC when Briggs was writing the requirements for Collins. Smith was then
director of the centre while the contending systems were being evaluated. He left
the navy at the end of 1987 to become the trials manager for Kockums at
Adelaide. In 1994 he was hired by Rockwell and then headed Boeing’s team on
the combat system. Later he joined Raytheon, where he was a keen participant
in the debates over the replacement combat system.
8. This section is based on interviews with Todd Mansell and Bob Clark and a
memoir prepared by Colin Cooper in early 2007.
9. In the convoluted evolution of the world’s arms suppliers, Thomson was
renamed Thales in 1999.
Chapter 22. ‘Hardly a day went by without the project

getting a hammering in the press’: the project in crisis
1997–98
1. Project office quarterly report, June 1997.
3. Interview with Paul Greenfield.
4. Australian, 15 March 1997.
5. ibid., 13 September 1997.
6. Interviews with Eoin Asker and Doug Callow.
7. Interview with Eoin Asker.
8. Interviews with Paul Armarego and Wal Jurkiewicz.
9. Interview with Peter Clarke.
10. Interview with Hans Ohff. These views are endorsed by Paul Barratt, Secretary
for Defence in 1998–99, who agrees that leaks designed to damage the project
seemed to emanate from navy sources (serving
and retired) and from at least one minister’s office. Note to authors, July 2007.
11. Interviews with Hans Ohff, Peter Clarke, Mark Gairey and Greg Stuart.
12. Daily Telegraph, 8 October 1998.
13. Paul Barratt, the Secretary for Defence at the time of the alleged report, says
that: ‘The only US Navy reporting of which I was aware was favourable.’ Note
to authors, July 2007.
14. Australian National Audit Office, Report No. 22, New submarine project, 1992.
15. Interviews with Ken Grieg and Hans Ohff.
16. For McLachlan’s leadership of the economic ‘dries’ in the 1980s see Paul Kelly,
The end of certainty: Power, politics and business in Australia, rev. edn, Allen &
Unwin, Sydney, 1994, pp. 253–4.
17. Unfortunately the authors were unable to interview Mr McLachlan for this
book. This assessment of his views is based on interviews with Hans Ohff, John
Bannon, Eoin Asker, Peter Jennings and Paul Barratt.
18. Interview with Paul Barratt.
19. Interview with Chris Oxenbould.
20. Their view is supported by Paul Barratt, who comments: ‘I had the strong sense
that some of the surface sailors felt that a dollar spent on submarines was a
dollar not available to be spent on the surface fleet. No-one could accuse them
of having the nation’s defence uppermost in their minds.’ Note to authors, July
2007.
22. Interview with Paul Barratt.
23. Interview with Don Chalmers.
24. Admiral Riddell was the US Navy’s senior adviser to allied navies.
25. Interview with Admiral John Butler.
26. Australian, 16 May 2000.
27. In discussions with the authors several Americans referred to the possibility of
supplying Australian submarine technology to ‘a third party’, and it was clear
from the context they were referring to Taiwan.
28. Review of Auditor-General’s Report No. 34 1997–98, New submarine project,
p. 64. http://www.aph.gov.au/house/committee/jpaa/
submarine/CHAPTER9.PDF
29. Essentially up to this point the submarines were ‘owned’ by the DAO and
responsibility for their operation and maintenance was ASC’s through the
contract between DAO and ASC. The navy is the DAO’s customer and as soon
as the navy accepts the submarine it is responsible for support and repairs.
30. Project office quarterly report, June 1998. Views on this issue are based on
interviews with Don Chalmers, Hans Ohff, Paul Armarego, Wal Jurkiewicz,
Peter Briggs, Paddy Hodgman, Terry Roach and Hugh White.
Chapter 23. ‘Bayoneting the wounded’:

the McIntosh-Prescott report
1. In addition to the sources cited below, this chapter is based on interviews with
John Moore, Paul Barratt, Don Chalmers, Paul Greenfield, Mick Dunne, Paddy
Hodgman and Martin Edwards.
2. Note to authors, 12 August 2007.
3. Paul Barratt believes that this was at the express wish of the minister.
4. Australian Broadcasting Corporation, Four corners program transcript, ‘Deep
trouble’, broadcast 24 May 1999,
http://www.abc.net.au/4corners/stories/s26752.htm
5. Report to the Minister for Defence on the Collins class submarine and related
matters (McIntosh-Prescott report), p. 3. The report is available at
http://www.minister.defence.gov.au/1999/collins.html
6. Paul Greenfield notes that: ‘It wasn’t until McIntosh and Prescott interviewed
retired Vice Admiral Ian MacDougall that he explained the original mission
statement – “the capability to have two submarines on patrol, continuously for
365 days a year 2500 miles from home”. This high level mission statement had
been lost with time.’
7. ABC TV, 7.30 report, Transcript, 1 July 1999.

8. Interviews with Olle Holmdahl and Pelle Stenberg.
9. Interviews with Peter Clarke, Rick Shalders and John Dikkenberg.
10. John Moore interviewed by Alexandra Kirk, The world today, 1 July 1999.
http://www.abc.net.au/worldtoday/stories/s32746.htm
Chapter 24. ‘That villain Briggs’ and the submarine

‘get-well’ program
1. Interview with Peter Briggs, 18 July 2006.
2. The minimum operational capability was seen as being about the same
capability as the Oberons, which was 60–70 per cent of the expected capability
of the Collins class.
3. These words are vividly remembered by all who heard them, including Doug
Callow, Paul Greenfield and Jack Atkinson.
4. Interviews with Hans Ohff and Doug Callow.
5. Peter Briggs, ‘Some reflections on the submarine capability team set up
following the McIntosh-Prescott report, 1 July 1999–22 January 2001’,
unpublished notes, 2006, p. 6.
6. Project office report, March 1999.
7. For example, Olle Holmdahl thinks the changes helped ‘little if at all’ and Hans
Ohff thought they did more for the appearance of the submarines than the noise
signature.
8. Interview with Paul Armarego and Wal Jurkiewicz.
9. Draft courtesy Andy Millar.
10. E-mail courtesy Andy Millar.
11. Project office report, September 2000, p. 14.
12. Interview with Peter Clarke.
13. Interview with Hans Ohff.
Chapter 25. ‘Inside the American tent’: the saga of the

replacement combat system
1. Heads up: Asia Pacific online defence and aerospace newsletter,
7 August 2000.
2. In addition to the sources cited below, this section is based on interviews with
Peter Briggs, Paul Greenfield, Peter Sinclair, Tony Smith, David Shackleton, John
Dikkenberg and Peter Hatcher.
3. McIntosh-Prescott report, ch. 8.
4. Interview with Todd Mansell.
5. ibid.
6. Probity lawyers were constantly involved throughout the selection process. The
quote is from an interview with Paddy Hodgman.
7. David Shackleton comments that at that time he was ‘immersed in a myriad of
issues with significantly changing the navy’ and when asked about the combat
system replacement he expected that the computer operating system of the STN
Atlas system would meet the required security standards.
8. Interview with John Young, chairman of the management board of Atlas
Elektronik.
9. Members of the evaluation team point out that Raytheon proposed the changes
after the tenders had been submitted, hence they could not be evaluated under
the tender conditions unless all three tenderers were given the same opportunity,
which would have set the evaluation back several months.
10. Interviews with David Shackleton and John Moore; Australian, 22 and 23
December 2000.
11. Interview with Kevin Scarce.
12. Interviews with Peter Sinclair and Peter Briggs.
13. Project office report, September 2001, p. 16.
14. Interview with David Shackleton.
15. Notes from David Shackleton to authors, July 2007.
16. Interview with Peter Briggs.
18. ibid.
19. Notes from David Shackleton to author, July 2007.
20. Project office report, December 2000.
21. Interview with Peter Briggs.
23. Interview with Phil Davis.
24. Note to authors, August 2007.
25. ibid.
26. Interviews with Bob Clark and Ted Vanderhoek.
Chapter 26. ‘We’ll do it and get rid of the buggers’:

Kockums, ASC and Electric Boat
1. Interviews with Hans Saeger, Juergen Ritterhoff and Tomy Hjorth.
2. Briggs, ‘Reflections on the submarine capability team’, unpublished notes.
3. Interviews with Pelle Stenberg, Paul Armarego and Wal Jurkiewicz.
4. Interview with John Moore. Other comments in this section come from
interviews with Greg Stuart and Doug Jones.
5. Hans Ohff notes that the dividend made the ‘headline price’ to the
Commonwealth appear lower and was also preferred by Kockums to a capital
payment.
6. Interview with Greg Stuart.
7. Interview with Doug Callow.
8. Financial Review, 26 April 2000; A.W. Grazebrook, ‘US pressure in RAN
submarine competition’, Asia Pacific Defence Reporter, August-September
2000, p. 38.
9. Interview with David Elliston.
10. Interview with Bo Benell.
11. Press release by Minister for Defence, Senator Robert Hill, 28 June 2004.
12. Department of Defence, Annual Report 2003–04, ‘Financial overview’,
http://www.defence.gov.au/budget/03–04/dar/01 02 04 finover 4.htm
13. Project office report, March 2001.
Chapter 27. ‘We would find that challenging’: comparison

and retrospect
1. Patrick Tyler, Running critical: The silent war, Rickover and General Dynamics,
Harper & Row, New York, 1986, pp. 137, 203.
2. ibid., p. 323.
3. United States General Accounting Office, ‘Navy ships – problems continue to
plague the Seawolf submarine program’, Report to Congress, August 1993.
4. Jim Ring, We come unseen: The untold story of Britain’s Cold War submariners,
John Murray, London, 2001 (paperback edition 2003), p. 238.
5. The Times, 18 July 2007.
6. Interview with Phil Davis.
7. One of the authors was told by a senior minister during a conversation in a lift
that: ‘Oh, so you’re writing about the submarines? They were a financial
disaster – they’ve cost us billions.’
8. The figures from DMO’s file on SEA1114 – the original Collins
project – are:
Original approved project – base date June 1986 $3892 m

Cost indexation $1229 m
Current approved project cost $5121 m
Expenditure to 2006 $5071 m
Real cost increase $−38 m
(Source: ‘Summary of Collins-class submarine project and
rectification/enhancement project costs’, 2006.)
9. As military analyst Allan Behm said, ‘I think the Sea Sprite has been a pretty
shocking project from beginning to end, not that it’s ended and it probably
never will.’ ABC Television, 7.30 Report, 18 February 2008,
http://www.abc.net.au/7.30/content/2007/s2165833.htm
10. The delivery dates for the submarines were:
01 Collins 15 Jul 96 18 months late

02 Farncomb 15 Dec 97 22 months late
03 Waller 30 Apr 99 27 months late
04 Dechaineux 21 Jul 00 31 months late
05 Sheean 25 Aug 00 21 months late
06 Rankin 26 Mar 03 41 months late
11. For example, Patrick Walters, Cutting edge: The Collins experience, Australian
Strategic Policy Institute, Canberra, 2006, p. 2.
12. Department of Defence, Portfolio budget statements 2007–08, n 9 above, p.
289.
INDEX
Åberg, Carl Johan, 82 Australian Industry Development

Ada (computer language), 68, 154, Corporation (AIDC) and ASC,
155, 251 79, 181
AE1 (submarine), 5, 6 shareholding, 182, 183–4
AE2 (submarine), 5, 6 bid to sell submarines to Malaysia,
Aeronautical and Maritime Research 204
Laboratories, 235, see also position on Rockwell, 199
Defence Science and Technology removes support for Don Williams,
Organisation (DSTO) 195
Ahlers, Klaus, 77 Australian Labor Party (ALP), 33
air-independent propulsion, 61, 100 attitude to project, 44, 265, 326
air purification system, 140 caucus briefing, 83–4
aircraft carrier replacement program defence policy, 97
(RAN), 25–6, 31, 85 influence of Swedish model, 42
Albacore, USS, 60 Australian Marine Systems (AMS), 78
Alfonso, Marcos campaign to change decisions, 111
on crew training, 208 liaison team, 93
joins Collins, 207 political support, 115
manuals, maintenance, 215 preliminary design baseline review,
shaft seal leaks, 233 95–6
on ship control and management submarine proposal, see Type 2000
system, 217 submarine design
on trials process, 212, 214 Australian Submarine Corporation
Anderson, R. W. C., 14 (ASC), 326
anechoic tiles, 141, 177–80, see also board, 121–2, 314
noise consortium, 112, 119, 181
Armarego, Paul, 261, 273, 288, contract agreed, 112–4
295 design authority, 313, 329
ASC Engineering, 146–7, 149 design office, 136–7
Asker, Eoin dispute on periscope vibration, 231
confident of solutions, 271, financial reserves and dividends,
277 185–6
on fuel supply system, 223 future after completion of
on Kockums, 263 construction, 259
on noise requirements, 227 Government purchase, 310, 311–15,
on periscope optics, 232 see also ownership (below)
project director, 260–1, 298 hull construction, 147–9
on Type 2400A, 65 maintenance tender, 258–9
Astute, HMS, 321 morale, 290
Atkinson, Jack, 123, 162, 163 move to Osborne, 142
Auditor-General (Australia), report on new skills, 328
submarine project 1992, 185–7 opposes combat system contract,
Australia-US alliance, 55 156–7
Australian Defence Industries, 142 overseas sales bid, 202
Australian Fibre Optic Research, ownership, 282, 311, 315, see also
183 Government purchase (above)
349
350 INDEX
Australian Submarine Corporation defence policy, 96

(ASC) (cont.) establishes ministerial liaison
payments for fast-track, 291 committee, 53
project management and planning, industrial relations at Osborne, 128
122, 143 leaves Defence portfolio, 265
propellers reworked, 230 names submarines, 147
reaction to collision in trials, 214 project budget, 97
relations between partners, 120–1, project schedule, 187
181–2 role in project, 54, 55–6, 74, 89
Kockums, 202, 289, 313, 314 on sales to Canada, 201
relations with capability team, 290, surprised at result of evaluation, 109
297 target of Coalition attacks on project,
relations with Howard government, 263, 266, 276, 277, 278, 286,
266 326
relations with project office, 260–1, visit to Sweden, 81
289 Benell, Bo, 316
relations with Rockwell, 160, Bennett, Fred, 81, 84, 113–14
198–200 Berger, Jim, 123
response to McIntosh-Prescott report, BHP
284 micro-alloy steel, 145, 167
role in trials process, 218–19 report on construction of Oberons
security issues, 125 1963, 15
set up, 80 research, 169
ship control and management system, scepticism on local production, 47
162 BHP Engineering, 78, 80, 102
staff and workforce, 122–4, 194–7 Bisalloy, 169, 170
sub-contracts, 124–7, see also Bjelke-Petersen, Joh, 101
individual companies Blewett, Neal, 201
submarine proposal, see Type 471 Blixt, Kurt, 129, 264
submarine design Blohm & Voss, response to tender
taxation, 187 request, 61
tender lodged, 100 Boeing, 158, 250–1, 260
Australia–US co-operation agreement, Bond, Alan, 183
307 Boral, 146
automation, in Type 471 design, 131 Bowen, Lionel, 115
Ayers, Tony, 199, 268–9 Bowler, Peter, 83
Bowman, Frank ‘Skip’, 302, 305
Babst, Martin, 249 Brabin-Smith, Richard, 268
Bannon, John, 45 Briggs, Peter
campaign to build submarines in SA, accused of corruption, 302
50, 87 appointed to head ‘fast track’ team,
industrial relations at Osborne, 128 259, 286, 288
support for Swedish proposal, 115 on augmented combat system, 294
Barbel class submarines, 13 on Cabinet approval of ‘get-well’
Barr & Stroud, 231, 232, see also program, 288
periscopes on combat system, 35, 299–300
Barratt, Paul on fixed-price contract, 324
McIntosh-Prescott report, 276, 278, Government purchase of ASC shares,
282 312
and Moore, 276, 285 looks to US for assistance, 311–12
on submarine project, 268, 271, on manpower crisis, 291
275–7 on Oberon upgrade, 23
Barrie, Chris, 275–6 Ohff’s view on, 297
Bath Iron Works, 122 on RAN refusal to accept Waller, 273
Bathurst class minesweepers, 9 replacement combat system, 292–8,
Batten, John, 30, 93, 147 309
batteries, see Pacific Marine Batteries retires, 298
Beazley, Kim on sale of shares to HDW, 311
ASC contract, 101, 114, 152 on ship control system, 106
and Carlsson, 82 success in gaining funds, 297
INDEX 351
SWSC, 24 begins fabrication of steel, 143

on technology upgrades and hull components, 148
contracts, 294–5 planning systems, 122
on Waller’s exercise performance, Ching, Graeme, 86, 119, 123
296, see also Submarine Christensson, Göran, 124, 149
Capability Team Ciba-Geigy, 179
Brisbane, HMAS, 5 Clark, Bob
Brown, Bob, 288 on combat system, 248
Buchanan Aircraft Corporation, 143 relations with US and UK researchers,
bulkheads, 139, 148, 149 252
Bull, Peter, 90, 93 on replacement combat system, 308
Bunge Industrial Steels, 48 Singer Librascope liaison team, 159
Bunke, Pär on SWSC, 25
on ASC financial performance, 185, Clarke, Peter, 228, 262, 264, 297
187 Clarkson, Sir William, 7–8
on insurance issue, 185 classified information
on schedule delays, 188 exchange between Australia and
supports defaulting Rockwell, 199 Sweden, 81, see also Sweden,
Button, John, 57, 79, 82 security issues
meets Sprimont, 57 Clayton Utz, 316
role in submarine project, 54, 56–7 Climas, Peter, 237
on Sweden, 42 Cockatoo Island Dockyard
bid to build new submarines, 27, 45,
C class submarines, 5 88
cabling, electrical, 140–1, 150 bid to build Oberons, 15, 17–18
Cairns, Jim, 14 and HDW, 77
Callow, Don, 124, 195, 290 history, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 11
Campbell, George, 42 industrial relations, 51, 53
Campbell, Graham, 83 method of construction, 49
Canada Oberon upgrade and refits, 18–19,
local submarine building, 7 23, 46
overseas sales prospects, 201, 203 ties to Vickers, 40–1, 60
Canham, Rick, 90, 135, 203 Cocking, Janis, 241
Cantieri Navali Riuniti (submarine Collins, HMAS
builder), 60 anechoic tiles not fitted at launch,
tender evaluation, 64 179
Carl Gustav weapon system, 80 collision with ASC ship lift, 213–14
Carlsson, Roine, 82, 126 combat system, 252, 253
Carmichael, Laurie, 42 commissioned, 217
Carter, Tony, 30 crew, 206
cavitation, see propeller, cavitation blamed for problems during trials,
Celsius (company), 185 214, see also training, crew
Chalmers, Don ‘first of class’ deficiencies, 215
on Boeing, 250 full-cycle docking, 316
confident of solutions, 271 launch, 189, 193, 209
on John Moore, 277 construction continues, 193
on propeller cavitation, 229 named, 147
on RAN refusal to accept Waller, 272 noise tests in US, 297
role in project, 268–9 provisional acceptance, 271
term not extended, 285, 287 rollout ceremony, 151
and US Navy, 270, 271 schedule delays, 188–9, 193
Chantiers Dubigeon (submarine trials, see trials process, Collins
builders) Collins, Mary, 201
approached by Eglo, 40 combat system
tender, 60, 64, 71 architecture, 91, 153–4
Charpy test, 175 ASC moves to default Rockwell, 160
Chicago Bridge & Iron (CBI), 120 augmentation program, 270, 292–4
and ASC, 78–9, 144, 181–2 budget, 97–8
shareholding, 182 computer language, see Ada
sub-contract, 125 (computer language)
352 INDEX
combat system (cont.) Creswell, William, 4

contractual arrangements, 156–7, CSIRO, 166
245, 250
custom hardware, 155–6 Dale, Chris, 24
definition study evaluation, 107–9 Dalrymple, Gordon, 22
DSTO role, 251–3 Dalrymple, Harry, 63
failures, 160, 220, 234, 253, 325 on combat system language, 68
effect on crew morale, 247 contract negotiations, 112
integration, 152–3, 159 project definition study, 73
with sonar, 245 tender evaluation, 67, 101
with submarine, 108–9 David, Al, 249
McIntosh-Prescott report, 281–2, 284 Davis, Geoff, 79
open architecture options, 252 ASC Chairman, 80, 121, 183
processors, 155 on ASC sub-contracts, 125
release, 244–5, 246–7, 252, 260 campaign to build submarines in
replacement, see replacement combat NSW, 88
system on contract payments, 185
requirements, 34–5, 36 Kockums consortium
reviews, 245, 247–8 lodges submarine tender, 100
software, 157–8, see also Computer on Wormald International, 120
Sciences of Australia Davis, Phil, 229, 269, 307, 322
staged delivery, 244 de Morton, Maurice, 236
SWSC role in design, 154–5 Deakin, Alfred, 4
technological change, 248 Dechaineux, HMAS
tender evaluation, 68–71, 73–4 combat system augmentation
trials process, 211–12, 213, 215, 216 program, 270
US assistance, 270, see also Rockwell construction, 257
Ship Systems Australia departure to Stirling, 298
Combat Systems Research Centre, 252 fast-track program, 288
Compton, Lyndon, 46 named, 147
Computer Sciences Corporation, vibration tests, 242
249–50 Defence Acquisitions Organisation, 324
Computer Sciences of Australia Defence, Department of
on combat system architecture, 245 Forces Structure Committee, 28, 58,
combat system software, 157–8 74
combat system tender evaluation, 68 opposition to project, 326
defaulted by Rockwell, 249 preference for overseas-sourced
sold to Computer Sciences equipment, 46, 58–9
Corporation, 249–50 SEA1114 project office, see project
takes over writing software, 98 office
testing of combat system, 159, 244–5 Defence Science and Technology
Concrete Constructions Pty Ltd, 128 Organisation (DSTO), 166–7
construction sub-contracts, 142–4, see combat system, 251–3, 292
also individual companies diesel engines, 240–1
contract influence on submarine project, 328
fixed-price, 323–5 noise reduction, 235–40
interpretation, 198 passive sonar, 176–7
negotiations, 109–14 replacement combat system, 301,
payments to ASC, 185–7 302, 307
requirements, 197–8, 226, 324 steel and welding, 148, 167–77, see
signature, 114, 119 also Materials Research
Contract Monitoring and Control Laboratory
System (CMAC), 93–4 Dibb, Paul, 55, 97
Cook, Henry, 12 Dibb Report, see Review of Australia’s
Cook, Joseph, 7 Defence Capabilities
Cooper, Colin, 154, 251, 252 Dickens, John, 240
Cooper, Orm, 35, 45 Dicker, Ron
corruption allegations, 114, 302 combat system design, 154, 160
Creaser, Roger, 252 on periscope optics, 232
INDEX 353
preliminary design baseline review, 94 role in project, 311–12

on propeller cavitation, 231 submarine construction, 49–50,
recruited by ASC, 123 319–20
on Rockwell sub-contract, 125 electronic surveillance equipment,
and Signaal, 107, 111 294
on TI338 regime, 262 Elliston, David, 30, 316
diesel engines explosion bulge test, 167
DSTO research, 240–1
excessive vibrations, 224 Fairlie, Bruce, 237
exhaust contribution to noise, 240 Farncomb, HMAS, 20
fast-track program, 291–2 anechoic tiles, 179
fuel consumption, 225 combat system, 248, 253
generic problems for class, 222–5 diesel engines, 292
problems identified in trials, 212, 220 named, 147
in Type 471 design, 126, 132–3, see provisional acceptance, 271
also Hedemora schedule delays, 189
Dikkenberg, John trials process, see trials process,
on combat system, 248–9 Farncomb
on McIntosh-Prescott report, 282 Farrow, Rod, 157
on periscope vibration, 231 fast-track design and building program
presents report on current (initial construction), 144
performance, 220 ‘fast track’ program (‘get well’ process),
on replacement combat system choice, see Dechaineux, HMAS,
306 fast-track program; Sheean,
Rockwell liaison team, 90, 92, 98 HMAS, fast-track program;
Dillon, Don, 203 Submarine Capability Team
dispute resolution mechanisms, 324 Fayle, Rod, 21
distributed architecture, see combat on Beazley, 56, 74
system, architecture development of requirements, 31,
Dixon, Brian, 175 32
Duncan, Jim, 44 on Hughes, 86
argues against existing dockyards, preliminary design baseline review,
51 95
campaign for local production, 58, project office staff, 30
88 Signaal liaison team, 90, 91–2, 96,
on Defence Department delays, 74 159
industrial relations at Osborne, 51 and Sprimont, 62
and Kockums, 50, 56 SWSC director, 24
Dunne, Mick, 228, 278–80, 282 on trade union support for local
production, 53
E class submarines, 5, 6 on Type 2400A, 65
Edwards, Martin, 123 Ferranti Computer Systems, 68, 69
leads ASC design office, 136 Ferrostaal AG, 60–1
on McIntosh-Prescott report, 284 fire control system, see Singer
on quality of maintenance, 258 Librascope
sent to Kockums, 135 ‘first of class’ deficiencies, see Collins,
Eglo Engineering, 37–8 HMAS, ‘first of class’ deficiencies
HDW project definition study Fisher, Sir John, 4, 5
consortium, 76–8, 262 Four corners (television program),
industrial relations, 38–9, 51 278–80
Kockums consortium, 41, 78–9 Fowler, Gary, 233
lobbies for Australian submarine Fraser government, 42
construction, 40–1, 43 Fraser, Malcolm, and HMS Invincible,
new submarine feasibility study, 39 85
nurtured by SA government, 87 Fremantle class patrol boats, 85
takeover by Transfield, 195, see also Fry, Don, 77
Ohff, Hans fuel supply system, 133, 222–5
Electric Boat (US submarine builder) contaminated fuel, 224, see also diesel
overseas sales, 313 engines
354 INDEX
Gabler, Ulrich, 21, 60, 61, 77 Hawke/Keating government

Gairey, Mark, 30 attitude to project, 54–5, 265
on Kockums’ design effort, 134, defence policy, 54, 55–6, 201, 270
135–6, 137 Hawker de Havilland, 47
on Kockums’ welding defects, 145 Hedemora
on noise reduction, 138 begins construction of diesels, 142
on propeller, 139, 264 diesel engine vibration, 241–2
on recalculation of evaluation data, investigates fuel consumption, 225
103 selection questioned, 225
Gallagher, Mike, 20 sub-contract with ASC, 126
CO of Farncomb, 207 turbo-charged diesels, 132–3, see also
on combat system, 248 diesel engines
crew training, 218 Hider, Peter, 111, 112, 113
on periscope optics, 232 Hill, Ian, 133
trials process, 211, 212, 218, 315 Hill, Ray, 123
on Upholder class, 320 Hjorth, Tomy
gearboxes, auxiliary, 242–3 ASC chairman, 314
Gee, Mike, 293 on Hughes, 129
General Dynamics, 307, 315, 320 Kockums, 311, 313
generator sets, 239–40, 241–2, Rockwell, 160, 198, 199
243 welding defects, 145
Gerrard, Chris, 199 Hodgman, Paddy
Glowatsky, Eric, 37 on Chalmers, 269
Gobell, Mark, 147 on McIntosh-Prescott report, 284
Goodwin, Geoff, 239, 240 on RAN refusal to accept Waller,
Gorton, John, 11–14, 17, 22 273
Greenfield, Paul on RAN’s view of project, 129
accused of corruption, 302 Hollandse Signaalapparaten, see Signaal
discussions over intellectual property, Holmdahl, Olle, 78, 99
316 ASC management, 123
maintenance and support planning, on CBI, 122
258 contracted ship’s characteristics, 113
replacement combat system, on fuel supply system, 223
299–300, 301 joint venture with Wormald, 79
on shaft seal leaks, 233 Type 471 design beginnings, 130, 131
Submarine Capability Team, 288 Horobin, Peter, 27
succeeds Asker, 298 advises Government purchase of ASC
work on McIntosh-Prescott report, shares, 312
277–8 explains problems with combat
Grieg, Ken, 128, 266 system, 199
Gumley, Stephen, 314–15 on Institute of Engineers seminar, 52
Gustafsson, Ove, 127 promotes ASC, 195
Submarine Capability Team, 288
Håkansson, Kenneth, 169 supports defaulting Rockwell, 199
Halfpenny, John, 42, 52–3 hoses, flexible, 131, 143
campaign for local production, 52–3, Houseman, Tony, 249, 250
54, 89 Howaltswerke-Deutsche Werft (HDW)
Hansson, Jan, 136 allegations of corruption, 83–4
Hardebring, Gösta, 161, 162 approached by Eglo, 40
Hargreave, Gordon, 301 consequences of decision, 115
Harpoon missiles overseas sales, 321–2
Collins class, 32, 299 possible purchase of ASC shares,
Oberon upgrade, 23, 25 311
Hatcher, Peter opposition, 312, 313
maintenance and support planning, project definition study consortium,
258 76–8, see also Australian Marine
on replacement combat system choice, Systems (AMS)
306 purchases Kockums, 310
on ship control system, 106, 163 response to tender request, 60–1
Hawke, Bob, 51, 87, 127 and SA campaign, 87
INDEX 355
sales to South Korea, 203, see also design, 137–9, 237

IKL/HDW bid causes turbulence, 238
Howard government fast-track program, 292
change of policy, 271 sonar dome, 229
decision on replacement combat US assistance, 270, see also noise,
system, 303 hydrodynamic
privatisation policy, 259, 310
takes control of ASC, 310 IKL/HDW bid, 62–8
view of project, 234, 266–7 liaison team, 93
Howard, John, 312 project definition study, 90
Howe, Brian, 42, 54, 81 steel, 168
Hudson, Mike, 74, 178 submarine proposal, see Type 2000
Hughes, Oscar, 128–9 submarine design
air purification system, 140 tender evaluation, 70
approaches DSTO, 236 chosen, 73, 75
attitude to Rockwell, 160 cost, 71
Collins schedule delays, 188 operations cost, 71, see also
on combat system design, 154 Australian Marine Systems
commitment to project, 262 (AMS)
contract contingency fund, 179 Indonesia, in Australian policy, 32
contract with ASC, 111, 324 industrial relations, 38–9
criticised in Auditor-General’s report, Cockatoo Island Dockyard, 51
185–7 Osborne shipyard, 51, 128
develops management control system, Williamstown Dockyard, 51, see also
93, 94 trade unions
on difficulties of project, 319 industry, Australia
on Don Williams, 123 capabilities, 47–8
on electrical cabling change, 140–1 exclusion from new submarine study,
funds safety program, 164 27
‘haul down’ report, 210 new skills, 328
Hedemora diesels, 126 regeneration through submarine
in-service requirement, 64 construction, 43, 58
independent of RAN, 267 sub-contracts with ASC, 127
industrial relations at Osborne, 128 Ingenieur Kontor Lübeck (IKL)
insurance issue with ASC, 184 allegations of corruption, 83–4
Kockums’ welding defects, 144, 145 impresses Eglo, 77
liaison teams, 91 response to tender request, 60–1
others’ views on, 84, 86, 194 Type 1500 submarine design, 60–1
preliminary design baseline review, 96 Type 2000 submarine design, see Type
project budget, 97, 98–9 2000 submarine design
project chain of command, 84–6 insurance
project definition study, 73, 89 in contract negotiations, 112,
evaluation, 115 113
promoted, 96 negotiation and litigation, 184–5
promotes overseas sales efforts, 202 intellectual property dispute, 315–17
relations with ASC, 260 Invincible, HMS, 85
removal of CBI from ASC, 182
retires, 194 J class submarines, 7
and Rockwell, 157 James Hardie Industries, 184
on tender evaluation, 63 Jennings, Peter, 267
views of others on, 86, 129, 194 Jensen, Jens A., 5, 7
Hugonnet, Peter, 163, 164–5 Jeremy, John, 18, 77
ship control and management system, Jeumont-Schneider, 126, 142, 213, 242
163 Johns Perry, 78
hull assembly platforms, 143
construction, 147–9 construction of submarine sections,
blast and paint, 149 149
joining sections, 150 and HDW, 77
outfitting, 149–50, see also steel; quality assurance, 146
welding Johns Valve, 183
356 INDEX
Johnson, Andrew, 24 response to tender request, 61–2

agrees to write software, 98 responsibility for overall success of
combat system, 34, 35 project, 326
concerns about Rockwell, 98 and SA campaign, 87
leads Transfield, 259 security issues, 108
on McIntosh-Prescott report, 284 ship control and management system,
move to Computer Sciences, 70 164
on Oberon upgrade, 25 submarine proposal, see Type 471
Joint Committee on War Production, 16 submarine design
Jones, Doug, 313 tender evaluation, 63
Jones, Garry, 197, 268 chosen, 75
confident of solutions, 271, 277 cost, 71
departure, 285 decision, 73
RAN refusal to accept Waller, 272 US technology release, 108
Jones, John, 182 Konetzni, Al, Jr., 296
Jost, Dr, 126 Kroll, John, 169
Juniper, Ross, 239 Krupp Atlas Elektronik
Jurkiewicz, Wal, 261, 273, 288, 295 combat system tender evaluation, 68,
69, 73
Kean, Bruce, 146 Oberon upgrade, 23
Keating, Paul, 97, 115
Kelly & Lewis, 183 Lange, David, 201
Kockums, 120 Leightons, 78
ALP caucus briefing, 84 Lemonius, Robert, 124, 149
and ASC, 289, 313–14 Lend Lease (company), 72, 78
shareholding, 182, 183–4, 259, 311 Lewis, John, 179
sub-contract, 125 Liberal Party, see Howard government
Australian industry participation, 71 licensing program, see trials process
consequences of selection, 115 Liset Engineering, 143
construction of submarine sections, litigation, 314
143, 149 over intellectual property, 316
welding defects, 144–6 over propeller, 316
contracted ship’s characteristics, 113 over technical issues, 316
design authority, 290, 313, 315 Lockheed Martin
design philosophy to ship control, contender for replacement combat
160–4 system, 300
disputes despatch of propellers to US, provides assistance on combat system,
263–4 250
and Eglo, 40, 41 teams with STN Atlas, 300, 304
financial performance, 185 logistics support
intransigence, 264 factor in local construction, 45–6
lack of resources, 259 initial tender evaluation, 71
liaison team, 90, 92–3 integrated, 110, see also maintenance
method of construction, 50–1 and support
overseas sales, 202, 204 Loid, Hans Peder, 137, 230
periscope vibration dispute, 231 Lorimer, David, 22
preliminary design baseline review, 94 Loton, Brian, 47
project budget, 99–100 Loughnane, Brian, 276, 283
project definition study, 90
consortium, 76, 78–80, see also MacDougall, Ian, 22, 34, 55, 81,
Australian Submarine 153
Corporation maintenance and support
purchased by HDW, 310 ‘competitive at all costs’ regime,
relations with other partners, 181–2, 258–9
298 planning, 258
relations with project office, 289, see through-life support contract,
also intellectual property 314–15, see also logistics support
relations with RAN, 289 MAK weapon system, 111
response to McIntosh-Prescott report, Malmö (Sweden), 130
284 manpower planning, 205–10, 291
INDEX 357
Mansell, Roger, 123, 125 Signaal liaison team, 90, 91–2

Mansell, Todd, 252, 293, 300 on SWSC, 25
manuals, maintenance, 110, 214–15 Milspec, 107
Marconi Underwater Systems, 143 Milton, Ross
Maritime Operations Division, 235 ASC, 78–9, 121, 123
Maritime Platforms Division, 239 on CBI, 120, 181
masts, see periscopes on contract signature, 119
Materials Research Laboratory, 166 on schedule delays, 188
anechoic tiles, 177–80 states campaign to build submarines,
steel, 167, 168, 174–5 86
welding techniques, 171–4, 175–6, Ming Tee Lee, 183
see also Defence Science and missiles, see Harpoon missiles
Technology Organisation Mitchell, Peter, 24
(DSTO) modular construction
McIntosh, Malcolm, 275 exclusion from new submarine study,
appearance on Four corners, 280 27
comments on Barratt and Barrie at Kockums, 50–1
reports, 275 Moore, John, 274–7
informs Signaal of budget concerns, appoints Briggs, 287
99 Defence Minister, 273
relations with John Moore, 277 on Howard government attitude to
removal of CBI from ASC, 182 project, 266
visit to Sweden, 81, see also lays blame for failings, 285–6
McIntosh-Prescott report McIntosh-Prescott report, 277–8,
McIntosh-Prescott report 283–4
basis for fast-track program, 288 Ohff’s view, 290, 297
on combat system, 281–2, 300 strengthened by Four corners
identifies causes of problems with program, 280
project, 282 support for project, 288
initiated, 277–8 supports Government purchase of
interviews, 278 ASC shares, 312
Kockums’ response, 284 supports US involvement, 312
media reaction, 283–4 Moore-Wilton, Max, 266
RAN reaction, 284–5 Motoren- und Turbinen-Union
released, 280–4 Friedrichshafen GmbH (MTU),
McLachlan, Ian, 259, 266, 273 126, 132
McLaren, Ron, 112, 184 Muth, Jim, 123
media
attention on project, 264–5 Nautronix, 227
distrust of ASC and project office, 214 Neilson, Rick, 24
response to McIntosh-Prescott report, on combat system requirements, 34
283–4, see also Four corners joins Rockwell Ship Systems
(television program) Australia, 156
Melbourne, HMAS, 30 on requirement for Ada, 155
Merrifield, Mark, 288 Rockwell liaison team, 90, 92, 97–8
Metal Workers Union, 52–3 on Waller’s exercise performance,
Michell Bearings, 143 297
Micropuffs sonar system, 23, 69 New South Wales, campaign to build
Millar, Andy submarines, 88
commitment to project, 262 Newcastle state dockyard, 88
on Halfpenny, 54 Nobes, Barry, 22, 26
on Hughes, 84, 86, 194 Noble, Ian, 30
on noise requirements, 226 noise
project office, 30, 201 AMS proposal, 111
on Rose, 194 battery stack exhaust fans, 240
Miller, Chris, 155, 158, 249, 251 contract disagreements, 226
Millington, Mick, 24 diesel exhaust, 240
on combat system design, 154 DSTO role, 235–40
project budget, 98 findings of McIntosh-Prescott report,
Rockwell proposal, 108 281
358 INDEX
noise (cont.) lobbies for Australian submarine

generator sets, 239–40 construction, 40–1, 43, 44, 46,
generic problems for class, 225–8 58
hydrodynamic, 138, 177, 228, 229 on McIntosh-Prescott report, 290
fast-track program, 292, see also on McLachlan, 266
hull, design negotiating fast track changes, 294
measurement of performance, 227 on noise requirements, 228
Collins, HMAS, 297 others’ views on, 113, 261, 262, 290
mechanical, 138, 228 preference for Walrus class, 60
problems identified in trials, 220 preliminary design baseline review, 96
propeller, contribution of, 237–9 on propeller, 230, 264
trials process, 216 on quality of maintenance, 258
Type 471 submarine design, 106, 138 on RAN refusal to accept Waller,
US assistance, 269 272–3
Västergotland class submarine, 137, retires as ASC CEO, 314
see also anechoic tiles on risks in project, 323
North Queensland Engineers and role in submarine project, 261–3
Agents, 77, 85 role in trials process, 219
Norwood, Chris, 236–7 on Rose, 197
Novenco Anderberg, 143 on Submarine Capability Team, 290
nuclear submarines, 12 visits Kockums, 50, 77
examined for SEA1114, 33–4 Öhlund, Gunnar, 120
on detailed design, 133
O class submarines, 3–4, 8 hull design, 139
Oberon class submarines, 12 on Kockums’ design effort, 134
British logistical support, 34 on Waller’s exercise performance, 297
combat system, 22, 294 Oldfield, David, 177–80
combat system upgrade, 22–4, 35, 70, O’Neill, John, 123
152, 176 Opperman, Hubert, 13
system integration, 24–5 Osborne shipyard, 38
construction, 49 completed, 142
logistics support, 46 establishment, 127
possible Australian construction, industrial relations, 51, 128
13–18 Osiris, HMS, 20
refits Otama, HMAS, 288
Cockatoo Island Dockyard, 18–19, Ovens, HMAS, 25
46 overseas sales efforts, 198, 202–3
quality assurance, 48 Canada, 200, 201–2, 203
replacement project, see SEA1114 Indonesia, 203
retirement, 288, 325 Malaysia, 203–4
in service, 18–19 New Zealand, 201
surveillance missions, 23 South Korea, 203
O’Brien, Kerry, 283–4, 286 Taiwan, 204, 312
Ohff, Hans, 37–9 Owen, Bill, 23, 26, 228
AMS bid, 111, 115 Owen, Frank, 28, 29
appointed managing director of ASC, Oxenbould, Chris, 285
195–7
asks Olle Persson to investigate fuels Pacific Dunlop Batteries, 127
system, 224 Pacific Marine Batteries, 127, 143
on Briggs, 297 Pålsson, Paul-E, 122, 182
on combat system architecture, 245 Parker, R. G., 17
on delays to trials, 248 Parkin, Tony, IKL/HDW liaison team,
European visit, 76 90, 93
first deep dive of Collins, 216 Pascall, John, 24, 156–7, 159
on Fraser government, 42 Paul, Stephanie, 288, 289
on Hedemora diesels, 225 periscopes, 133
on Howard government attitude to optics, 232
project, 266 vibration, 231–2, see also Barr &
on John Moore, 290, 297 Stroud
INDEX 359
Perry Engineering, 143, 148, 149 quality assurance

Persson, Olle, 224, 225 Australian sub-contractors, 146
Perth, HMAS, 45 diffused through industry, 48–50
Philips Electronics, 91 inspection by project office, 147
Philips Group (public relations Queensland, campaign to build
company), 289 submarines, 87, 88
Phillips, Bob, 174
Phontech, 143 RAN Research Laboratories, 166
piping, 150 Rankin, HMAS
Platypus, HMAS, 6 construction, 257, 298
Plessey, 68, 69, 73 launch, 317–18
politicians, role in submarine project, named, 147
82 Ray, Robert, 43, 265
Pomeroy, J. B., 14 Raytheon
preliminary design baseline review, assumes responsibility for combat
94–6 system, 260
Prescott, John CCS Mk2 combat system, 300
ASC chairman, 314 basis for replacement combat
assists McIntosh, 277–8, see also system, 308
McIntosh-Prescott report provides assistance on combat system,
project definition study, 59 250
consortia, 76–80 response to choice of STN Atlas, 302
evaluation, 114–16 role in replacement combat system
AMS proposal, 101, 102–5 development, 307
ASC proposal, 102–5 Reil Corporation, 183
conclusion, 107 replacement combat system, 298,
recalculation of data, 102–5 299–300
responses to conclusions, 109 allegations of corruption, 302
project office architecture, 308–9
buccanneering style, 86 budget, 325
commitment to Australian contenders, 300
construction, 44 development process, 307
management control system, 93–4 evaluation, 300–1, 305–7
project definition study liaison teams, security issues, 303–5
90–3 selection process, 292
reaction to collision in trials, 214 strategic issues, 302, 303, see also
relations with ASC, 260–1, 289 Australia-US co-operation
relations with Kockums, 289, see also agreement
intellectual property tactical and fire control, 308
relations with RAN, 289 US pressure, 302, see also Raytheon
set up, 30 Review of Australia’s Defence
staff changes, 96, see also SEA1114 Capabilities, 55, 97
propeller Rexroth GmbH, 143
cavitation, 66, 139, 229–31, 237–9, Richards Valves, 183
see also noise Rickover, Hyman, 85
design, 139 Riddell, Dick, 269
dispatch to US, 270, 315 Ridgway, Simon, 124, 151, 316
litigation, 316 Ring, Jim, 320
fast-track program, 292 Ritter, John
fatigue cracks, 231, 263–4 industrial standardisation, 174–5
findings of McIntosh-Prescott report, steel, 167, 168, 236
281, see also Sonoston (alloy) welding techniques, 171–4, 175–6
propulsion system, see generator sets; Ritterhoff, Jürgen, 61, 78
Jeumont-Schneider; Strachan & ALP caucus briefing, 83–4
Henshaw design philosophy, 104
Protector, HMAS, 213, 216 preliminary design baseline review,
prototyping, 210 94, 95–6
public perception of Collins class, on project definition study evaluation,
221 114
360 INDEX
Riva Calzoni, sub-contract with ASC, on states’ campaign to build

126 submarines, 87
River class frigates, 9 Rotterdam Dockyard, see
Roach, Terry, 52 Rotterdamsche Droogdok
on RAN refusal to accept Waller, 273 Maatschappij (RDM)
SWSC director, 24 Rotterdamsche Droogdok
on tender evaluation, 62 Maatschappij (RDM), 40, 60
Robertson, Trevor Australian industry participation, 72,
CO of Collins, 206, 209 see also Walrus class submarine
on crew training, 208 Rourke, Bill, 34
on Swedish training, 208 project chain of command, 84
Robinson, Geoff, 288 support for Australian construction,
Robinson, Peter, 163 45
Roche, Mick, 316 tender evaluation, 62–8
Rockwell Corporation Type 471 design beginnings, 131
approach to project, 156–7 US technology release to Kockums, 66
default attempt by ASC, 198–200 Royal Australian Navy
defaults CSA, 249 anti-submarine feelings, 268, 326
liaison team, 92, 156–7 attitude to project, 129, 267, 268
military business purchased by John Moore’s view, 275
Boeing, 250–1, 260 parent navy of Collins class, 323
preliminary design baseline review, perception of Collins class, 222
94 post-WWII submarine force, 11–12
project definition study consortium, relations with ASC, 289
see Rockwell Ship Systems relations with Kockums, 289
Australia relations with project office, 289
relations with Singer Librascope, 98, role in replacement combat system
156 development, 307
relations with Thomson CSF, 98, 159 submarine squadron
transfer of information to Kockums, aims for project, 326
108 cost, 327
Rockwell Ship Systems Australia (RSA) manpower issues, 205
acts like a prime contractor, 160 opposes US replacement combat
combat system architecture, 68, 245 system, 305–7
combat system design, 154, 155 response to McIntosh-Prescott
processors, 155 report, 284
combat system tender evaluation, 69, role in submarine project, 198
70 submarine tactical training course, 24
chosen, 73, 75 support for Oberon upgrade, 25
definition study evaluation, 107–9 ties with Royal Navy, 20–1
directed sub-contract, 112–14 view of project office, 260–1
early difficulties, 97–8 Royal Navy, 11, 16, 20–1
opposes combat system contract, Rubis class submarines (France), 33, 60
156–7 Rubython, Jeff, 123, 127
project definition study, 90 Ryco Hydraulics, 143
relations with ASC, 160
sub-contract with ASC, 125 Saab Instruments
tender evaluation, 68 ship control and management system,
Rose, Geoff, 21 143, 160–1, 164, see also ship
appointed project manager, 96, 194 control and management system
combat system incremental delivery, sub-contract with ASC, 126
200 Saeger, Hans, 94, 105, 115
on first deep dive of Collins, 216 safety program, 164–5
not told of Don Williams’ departure, Saunders, Alan, 124
195 Scarce, Kevin, 298
relations with ASC, 260 schedule, project, 122, 187–9, 325
relations with Ohff, 197 Schofield, Bill, 235, 237
removed from project, 260 Scholes, Gordon, 55
on requirements changes, 198 Scientific Management Associates, 207
INDEX 361
Scott’s (British submarine builder), 49 combat system architecture, 69

Scylla interface, 252 combat system design, 154
Sea Sprite helicopter project, 325 combat system tender evaluation, 68,
SEA1114 69, 70, 73, 75
Australian content, 327 final proposal, 101
budget, 96–7, 187, 324–5 liaison team, 90, 91–2, 96, 159
combat system, see combat system preliminary design baseline review, 94
complexity, 322 project definition study, 90, 107–9
conclusion, 318 revised design, 92, 98–9
contract, see contract transfer of information to submarine
initiation, 26 designers, 108
nation building, 327–8 da Silva, Lina, 144
overall success, 326, 328–9 Sinclair, Ian, 82
project definition study, see project Sinclair, Peter
definition study CO of Collins, 207, 209
project office, see project office collision during trials, 213
requirements on combat system, 247
development of, 27–8 first deep dive of Collins, 216
long-range, 31 on fuel supply system, 223
size, 32 on noise performance, 228
risks, 322–3 on periscope vibration, 231
schedule, see schedule, project on propeller cavitation, 229
tender request, see tender process, shaft seal leaks, 233
request for tenders on STN Atlas replacement combat
Seawolf class submarine, 320 system, 301
security issues trials process, 211, 212, 315
Kockums, 108 Singer Librascope
replacement combat system, 303–5 combat system sub-contract, 159
Shackleton, David, 285 combat system tender evaluation, 69
on Australia–US co-operation delivers consoles, 159
agreement, 307 liaison team, 159
on Bowman, 305 Oberon upgrade, 23
replacement combat system, 301, relations with Rockwell, 98, 156
302–5, 306 Sintra Alcatel, 68, 69
shaft seals, leaks, 233–4, 263 Skilton, Chris, 195
Shearer, Mike, 160 Sloan, Glen, 216
Sheean, HMAS Smith, Tony, 158
combat system augmentation heads Boeing combat system team,
program, 270 250
construction, 257 on Raytheon replacement combat
departure to Stirling, 298 system, 302
fast-track program, 288 on replacement combat system, 309
named, 147 snorting, 132–3, see also diesel engines
ship control and management system, Snowy Mountains Scheme, 327
153, 160–4 sonar
definition study evaluation, 106–7 Defence Science and Technology
development, 162–4 Organisation (DSTO)
great success of project, 165 evaluation, 176–7
meets requirements in trials, 217 integration with combat system, 245
‘notable success’, 311–16 stand-alone equipment, 246
processors, 162 towed array, 32, see also Micropuffs
test site, 163 sonar system; Thomson CSF
training and simulator, 207, see also Sonoston (alloy), 139–40, 231, 238,
Saab Instruments 263
Ship Noise and Vibration Group, findings of McIntosh-Prescott report,
235–40 281, see also propeller
shipbuilding in Australia, 9–10 South Australia
Short, John, 270 campaign to build submarines, 87, 88
Signaal submarine task force, 44, 46–7
362 INDEX
Sperry Gyroscope, 23 on Upholder class, 321

Sprimont, Roger, 62 US assistance with noise, 238
ASC, 80, 121 on welding defects, 144–6
on Australian partners, 78 submarine building
on corruption allegations, 114 India, 321
focus on project, 115 South Korea, 321
joint venture with Wormald, 79 Turkey, 321
on Kockums’ welding, 144 United Kingdom, 320–1
liaison team, 92 United States, 319
meets Button, 57 Submarine Capability Team
prefers turbo-charged diesels, 132 augmented combat system, 292–4
recruiting for ASC, 123 budget, 325
Type 471 design beginnings, 131 critics of fast-track, 297
SSAB (steel maker), 169 diesel engine fixes, 291–2
SSPA Maritime Consulting AB, 137, electronic surveillance equipment, 294
139 hull design modifications, 292
states’ campaign to build submarines, looks to US for assistance, 311
86–7, see also individual states manpower planning, 291
steel need for swift action from Kockums,
DSTO work, 167–77 313
HY100, 168 negotiating fast track changes, 294–5
HY80, 168 propeller modifications, 292
industrial standardisation, 174–5 public relations, 289, 295–7
industry capabilities, 47 response of ASC, 290, 297
micro-alloy, 145, 148, 168–71 staff, 288
welding techniques, 175 upgrading technology, 294–5
Stein, Karl Bertil, 128 Submarine Warfare Systems Centre
Stenberg, Pelle (SWSC)
on contract negotiations, 119 development of combat system
contracted ship’s characteristics, 113 requirements, 35
on fuel supply system, 133 Oberon upgrade, 24–5
Kockums’ representative in Canada, role in augmented combat system, 292
203 role in combat system design, 154–5
on ship control system, 106 submarines in Australian service, before
Stirling, HMAS, 207 Oberon class, 4–9
STN Atlas Subsafe program, 164
ISUS 90-55 combat system, 300–5, Subtics combat system, 300
306 Success, HMAS, 85
recommended, 301 support, in-service, see maintenance
teams with Lockheed Martin, 300 and support
Strachan & Henshaw, 67, 126, 142 Svensson, Tore, 92, 125
Stuart, Greg Swan, HMAS, 9
on air purification system, 140 Sweden
on AMS proposal, 103 assistance with crew training, 208
contracted ship’s characteristics, 113 influence in Australia, 42, 82, 326
on diesel engines, 224 reputation as supplier, 80
on Electric Boat, 312 security issues, 82–3, 90, 108, see also
electrical cabling change, 140–1 classified information
on fuel supply system, 222–5 Sydney Morning Herald, 265
on Hedemora diesels, 126, 225 sytems integration, 322
on intellectual property settlement,
316 tactical data management systems, see
on Kockums, 99, 264 Singer Librascope
Kockums liaison team, 90, 92–3 Taiwan, see overseas sales efforts,
on noise requirements, 227 Taiwan
project office staff, 30 tank testing, 137, 138
on propeller design, 230 Tasmania, campaign to build
on propeller dispute, 264 submarines, 87, 88
on quality of maintenance, 259 Taylor, John, 174, 261
on ship control system, 107 Taylor, Rod, 267, 268–9
INDEX 363
Teamwork (analysis technique), 157 sea trials, 215–17

technology transfer, 85–6 stand-alone sonar equipment, 245
Tender Evaluation Board, 62–8, 72–4 static dive, 212
tender process surface sea trials, 212
definition study evaluation, 101–2 under-way dive trials, 213
submarines, see submarine combat system, see combat system,
evaluation team trials process
evaluation, 72–4 Farncomb, 217–19
Cabinet decision, 74–5 trials board, 210
cost, 71 Tubemakers, 78, 80
industry participation evaluation, Tudor (battery company), 127
71–2 Tyler, Patrick, 49
possible prejudices, 62 Type 12 frigates, 9
preliminary evaluation of designs, 62 Type 2000 submarine design, 67–8,
request for tenders, 59 104
testing, pre-launch, 150 definition study evaluation, 107
Thales design philosophy, 100, 103–4, 106
combat system interface, 252 Type 2400 Upholder class submarine,
Subtics combat system, 300 60
Thomson CSF, 137 tender evaluation, 63, 65–6
combat system tender evaluation cost, 71
combat system trials, 212 operations cost, 71
relations with Rockwell, 98 rejected, 73
Thomson Sintra, 159 Type 471 submarine design
completes development, 159 anechoic tiles, 178
liaison team, 159 conceptual design, 130–1
relations with Rockwell, 159 definition study evaluation, 105, 107
Thornton, Jock, 124 design philosophy, 103–4
Thyssen Nordseewerke detailed design, 133–4, 135
approached by Eglo, 40 Australian engineers, 135, 141
response to tender request, 61 Australian office, 136–7
Type TR1700A submarine, see Type RAN team, 135–6
TR1700A submarine ship control and management system,
TI338 regime, 261 see ship control and management
Tobruk, HMAS, 85 system
torpedoes, Mark 48, 23 steel, 168–71
Torrens, HMAS, 9 tender evaluation, 66–7
Townley, Athol, 12, 13, 14 Type TR1700A submarine, 61, 65,
trade unions, 42 71
aims for project, 326 Type XXI U-boat, 22
support ‘accord’, 42
support for Australian construction, Ude, Udo, 76
44, see also industrial relations United Shipbuilders Bureaux, 60
training, crew, 206 United States Navy
ASC responsibilities, 206 anechoic tiles, 178
Oberon class submarines, 208 assistance with combat system, 270
ship control and management system, assistance with noise problems, 238,
see ship control and management 269
system, training and simulator assistance with propellers, 263, 270
Sweden, 208 assistance with shaft seal leaks, 234
Transfield, 77, 259 request for assistance, 269, 270–1
trials process role in augmented combat system, 292
ASC role, 218–19 role in replacement combat system
Collins, 210–11 development, 307
basin trials, 212 technical advice and assistance,
collision with Australian Submarine 311–12
Corporation (ASC) ship lift, United States, role in submarine
213–14 project, 109
crew training and manuals, 214–15 Unsworth, Barry, 88
project office reports, 214 Upholder class submarines, 27, 320–1
364 INDEX
Vanderhoek, Ted, 160, 293 commitment to project, 262

Varta Batteries, 127 on crew training, 209
Västergötland class submarine, 131, departure, 86, 96, 194
133, 135, 208 first deep dive of Collins, 216
hull design, 137, 229 on industry capabilities, 47
Verdix, 155 Institute of Engineers seminar, 52
vibration on Oberon training, 208
generator sets, 241–2 project chain of command, 84, 86
periscopes, 231–2 project director, 30
Vickers Armstrong, 17 on Rubis class, 33
Vickers Shipbuilding and Engineering tender evaluation, 63
Ltd (VSEL), 5, 56, 60 visits Kockums, 50
Australian industry participation, 72 White, Hugh, 273
building practices, 71 White, John, 39–40
commitment to Australia, 40–1 AMS bid, 111
lobbying efforts, 74 consortium to takeover ASC, 259
new submarine feasibility study, 39 European visits, 50, 76, 77
Type 2400 Upholder class submarine, Institute of Engineers seminar, 52
see Type 2400 Upholder class on liaison teams, 93
submarine lobbies for Australian submarine
Victoria, campaign to build construction, 40–1, 43, 44, 46,
submarines, 88 58, 89
von Geuzau, Altingh, 99 Wilcox, Justice, 316
Williams, Don
Waller, HMAS ASC chief executive, 123
defects, 234 Collins launch, 188, 189
named, 147 departure from ASC, 194–5
performance in exercise, 295–7 dominates project, 194
RAN refuses to accept, 271 Kockums’ welding defects, 145
replacement combat system fitted, 309 and Rockwell, 194, 199
Waller, John, 167 Williams, Jim, 169
Walrus class submarine, 60 Williamstown Dockyard, 9
tender evaluation, 67, 73 case for building new submarines,
cost, 71 45
Walters, Patrick, 111 government responsibility, 54
Walters, Richard, 288 industrial relations, 51, 53
Watson, HMAS, 24, 159 method of construction, 49
Watt, Alan, 55 reform, 195
weapons system, 142, see also Harpoon Willis, Ralph, 128
missiles; torpedoes, Mark 48 wind tunnel testing, 237–8
welding Woodside, 78
defects in Kockums’ sections, 144–6, Woodward, Sandy, 22, 62
316–17 Wormald International, 120
DSTO work, 167–74, 177 and ASC, 79–80
industrial standardisation, 175–6 shareholding, 183
joining hull sections, 150 sub-contract, 125
non-destructive testing, 176 change of ownership, 121
at Osborne, 147–8 role in clash between Kockums and
Wellman Precision Engineering, 140 CBI, 181
West, Barry, 81 ship control and management system,
Western Australia, 88 143
Westinghouse, 142 sub-contract to Saab Instruments,
Weymouth, H. P., 13 161
White, Graham, 30 Wrigley, Alan, 28
ALP caucus briefing, 83, 84 opposition to project, 32–3, 58,
and Beazley, 74, 86 74
Button’s view of, 57 Wyllie, David, 176, 178, 237
collision during trials, 213
commitment to Australian Yandell, Charlie, 124
construction, 43, 44, 46, 58, 89 Young, John, 301

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TH E C OLLINS CLASS SUBMARINE STORY

STEEL, SPIES AND SPIN

A unique and outstanding military and industrial achievement, the

The building of these submarines was Australia’s largest, most

Peter Yule is a Research Fellow of the History Department of the

Derek Woolner is a Visiting Fellow of the Strategic and Defence Studies

Cambridge University Press

© Peter Yule and Derek Woolner 2008

This publication is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception

First published 2008

National Library of Australia Cataloguing in Publication data

isbn 978-0-521-86894-5 Hardback

Cambridge University Press has no responsibility for the persistence or

List of key people vii

PART 1: YOU CAN’T BUILD SUBMARINES

PART 2: THE HONEYMOON YEARS 1987–92 117

12. Designing the Collins class 130

PART 3: ‘A STRANGE SENSE OF UNEASE’ 1993–98 191

PART 4: RESOLUTION 255

Note: date/s of interviews with the authors are indicated in square

Carl Johan Åberg, Swedish Minister for Foreign Trade

Richard Brabin-Smith, Chief Defence Scientist [16 February

Paul Dibb, Defence policy strategist [30 May 2006]

John Halfpenny, Secretary, Amalgamated Metal Workers Union

Andrew Johnson, combat system software engineer, SWSC and

Gunnar Öhlund, Technical Director, Kockums [17 November

Bill Rourke (Rear Admiral RAN), Chief of Naval Materiel; early

Hugh White, staff member to Defence Minister Kim Beazley;

ACTU Australian Council of Trade Unions

The construction of the Collins class submarines was Australia’s

could find with no preconceptions of the submarine project. This

Committee and the Chief of Naval Staff Advisory Committee, the

YOU CAN’T BUILD

THE NEW SUBMARINES:

He concluded: ‘In all seriousness I don’t think it is even

However, Deakin had the endorsement of Admiral Fisher, had

Consequently there was no opposition to the government’s

cruisers, three destroyers and several large auxiliaries for the

I shall be glad if you will investigate the possibility of

surface ships and quickly agreed to sacrifice the submarines. In

Australian manufacturers were small-scale, technologically back-

Although Allied submarines based in Fremantle and Brisbane

would be to train anti-submarine forces and, in wartime, to ‘hunt

1 The Indonesians or Chinese Communists have attained a

Submarines are, of course, very special types of naval vessels,

For political reasons Opperman and Townley supported the

Defence funds were intended to provide defence for Australia,

Australia is building the hulls in Australia and assembling

This outburst drew a response from J. B. Pomeroy, the Victorian

In the studies and analyses of submarine construction in

The navy expected that all components would have to be imported

The cost of fabricating in Australia can only be a guess, and

Significantly, this report appears to have been written without even

The report was probably correct in arguing that building the

submarines, found itself hindered at every turn by the navy. It

Defence that he had telephoned the general manager of Cockatoo

provided subtle encouragement for building the next generation of

The British Oberon submarine HMS Osiris had an affinity with

as ‘Perisher’ and, again like a select few Australians, he was given

intimate knowledge of the submarine, saying things like, ‘As we

demonstrated that submarines could do far more than the navy

sonars, and new bow structures to accommodate the larger bow

Integrating the Harpoon missiles was an example of the