Clandestine US submarine flexes muscle at Aussie port
"Silence is victory," it reads.
The US submarine arrived in Brisbane waters on the weekend before docking at the city's port, a first ever visit to the city by a vessel in its class.
The Ohio - a nuclear-powered guided missile submarine - is visiting Brisbane to coincide with the upcoming 80th anniversary of Victory in the Pacific on August 15 - which marks the end of World War II in the region.
Brisbane hosted over 70 US submarines and three submarine tenders during the War.
But this kind of firepower in Queensland waters is a rare sight as the 170 metre long, 13 metre wide vessel rests adjacent to the USS Frank Cable.
Captain Eric Hunter describes the submarine as a "deterrent and geopolitical force" as media are escorted in to see the ship's internal machinery.
The control station boasts screens, buttons, and steering instruments enabling officers to plunge the submarine in excess of 200m underwater.
The 165 total people aboard operate in hushed voices.
Silence is victory and remaining undetected is always the goal.
One of the vessel's navigational officers uses an Xbox remote when showing how external cameras scan around the boat.
"Complete independence," he says, when describing what makes his job 'incredible'.
Living away from family, friends and natural light isn't easy. Navy personnel sometimes go 90 days without seeing the sun.
Living quarters host eight or nine people in tiny bunks.
The 24-hour cycle aboard offers eight hours of work, eight of sleep, and eight to study, upskill or play cards, board games or watch movies with other staff.
Taco Tuesday is a favourite of the three allocated meals per day.
Across the four decks, other operational areas include a torpedo room, a dedicated team to the vessel's auxiliary and engine function and missile function deck.
The Ohio has 12 sailors responsible for 22 missile tubes, each carrying seven each.
Aboard are 154 guided missiles ready to launch at any moment.
Throughout the tour, two things are constant for the ship's captain: pride and accomplishment.
"Watching them( sailors) refine their skills and accomplishments is eye watering," the 48-year-old skipper tells AAP.
"We have a very competent crew."
The Ohio's arrival follows that of the USS America a fortnight ago when the amphibious assault ship docked at the port and a trilateral agreement was signed between the United States, Japan and Australia.
Ohio-class submarines are 18,750 tons submerged and the largest submarines ever built for the US
The United States Chargé d'Affaires Erika Olsen and Australian Chief of Navy, Vice Admiral Mark Hammond AO will mark the 80-year anniversary of victory in the Pacific aboard the USS Frank Cable on Wednesday.
Hashtags
Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
ABC News
19 hours ago
- ABC News
80yo unopened bottle of beer donated to Australian War Memorial as a symbol of WWII mateship and sacrifice
Two best mates promised to share a bottle of beer together after serving in World War II. But only one ever returned. Now 80 years later, the still unopened bottle — one imperial quart of Tooth's Draught Ale — has been donated to the Australian War Memorial. The local Wingham Hotel publican on the NSW Mid North Coast was giving every serviceman who enlisted a bottle of beer when best mates Stanley Lewis and Frederick Hume enrolled, according to Stan's nephew Garry Mortimer. Mr Mortimer said the pair enlisted on the same day in 1941 and had been best friends since they were five years old. "They were always getting into mischief since they were kids." Mr Mortimer said the 20-year-olds made a pact with one of the bottles of beer. "Stan took his home to his mother," Mr Mortimer said. "He said 'keep this for me, mum, and when I return Fred and I will open it and celebrate'. The two men served as privates in the 2/30 Battalion, helping to defend Singapore from invasion. Around 130,000 Allied troops were captured after the fall of Singapore in 1942, including 15,000 Australians. Fred and Stan were both captured and imprisoned at Changi before being taken to work on the Thai-Burma railway. More than 100,000 civilians and around 3,000 prisoners of war lost their lives working on the railway. It's where Stan died, just 23-years-old. He is buried at Kanchanaburi War Cemetery in Thailand. Fred survived his time as a prisoner of war, returning to Australia in 1945. But his best mate was gone. The bottle of beer remained on the shelf at the back of Stan's mum's kitchen cupboard. The family took it with them when they moved house. Mr Mortimer this year decided to donate 'Stan's beer bottle' to the War Memorial. "At some stage, they're going to put it on display," he said. He hopes the bottle will help people remember "two mates and their close ties and how they obviously loved each other and cared for each other". "Simple things are important because of the men who served." Australian War Memorial assistant curator Andrew Muir said the bottle remained well sealed and was being examined and preserved by the memorial's conservation team. "There's a bit of sediment in it … I'm not sure whether you'd really want to open it," he said. "We want it to last for another 80 years." Mr Muir said the bottle told a story about mateship and sacrifice. "This is a story about two mates," he said. "This simple bottle of Tooth's Draught Ale stayed with the Lewis family for decades. They saw it as a tribute to friendship. "It remains in their cupboard as a treasured possession for this family. "It's touching to think they've treasured it for so long and then decided this year — actually, it's time to move it somewhere safe and where other people can learn this story. "We are grateful it has now been donated to the Australian War Memorial so we can share their story forged in mateship, with future generations."
The Age
a day ago
- The Age
Never forget what happened in Hiroshima
It was a still, quiet morning with rays of sunshine filtering through dappled clouds, on the day I visited Hiroshima. November 2019, just before the onslaught of COVID-19 changed our reality. Having taught dedicated, appreciative Japanese students English as a second language in Melbourne over several years, I was elated to finally be visiting their homeland – but nothing could have prepared me for the day I spent transfixed, at the Hiroshima Memorial Park. I grew up learning about the indescribable terror inflicted on Hiroshima and Nagasaki through the atomic bombings of 1945, which ended World War II. I found it chilling to be standing on the site of such savagery inflicted on innocent civilians, which tragically, in all likelihood, could have been avoided, had Japan surrendered earlier. The magnitude of the terror rained down on this vibrant city was impossible for my mind to grasp (as it had also been a year prior, when I walked the blood-stained earth of Auschwitz concentration camp in Poland). Now, as we approach the 80th anniversary of those notorious days – August 6 when the United States detonated the atomic bomb over Hiroshima and August 9, over Nagasaki – it remains for me an impossibility to comprehend such brutality. More than 100,000 lives were lost in the blink of an eye, and another 100,000 in the devastating aftermath, from gruesome burns and injuries, or radiation poisoning. Such numbers can become just statistics: but each is a husband, wife, father, mother, son, daughter, young and old alike subjected to hell on Earth, as they went about their daily routine. Loading The Hiroshima Peace Memorial offers excruciatingly distressing, graphic evidence of the cruelty and annihilation of the cataclysmic event that occurred on this meticulously restored site. Foremost in my mind have remained the heart-wrenching testimonies of the few survivors still able to share their harrowing tales these decades later, as they sit on the tortured ground of Hiroshima surrounding the memorial – supported by passionate descendants and anti-nuclear activists, many of whom have made it their life's work to preach the futility of violence and war. But, as I sit and stare, motionless and aching at the never-ending coverage of the barbarism around our world today, I ask myself if humanity is actually capable of change. Could there ever be a day when the world can be at peace, in which megalomaniacs aren't able to wield such power, in which people of different religions, race and ethnicity can live side by side in harmony? Loading History teaches that such a day will likely never come, but we here who enjoy the relative calm of life, geographically distanced from the horrors across the world, must not look away. Rather, we share the responsibility to make our world a better place.
Sydney Morning Herald
a day ago
- Sydney Morning Herald
Never forget what happened in Hiroshima
It was a still, quiet morning with rays of sunshine filtering through dappled clouds, on the day I visited Hiroshima. November 2019, just before the onslaught of COVID-19 changed our reality. Having taught dedicated, appreciative Japanese students English as a second language in Melbourne over several years, I was elated to finally be visiting their homeland – but nothing could have prepared me for the day I spent transfixed, at the Hiroshima Memorial Park. I grew up learning about the indescribable terror inflicted on Hiroshima and Nagasaki through the atomic bombings of 1945, which ended World War II. I found it chilling to be standing on the site of such savagery inflicted on innocent civilians, which tragically, in all likelihood, could have been avoided, had Japan surrendered earlier. The magnitude of the terror rained down on this vibrant city was impossible for my mind to grasp (as it had also been a year prior, when I walked the blood-stained earth of Auschwitz concentration camp in Poland). Now, as we approach the 80th anniversary of those notorious days – August 6 when the United States detonated the atomic bomb over Hiroshima and August 9, over Nagasaki – it remains for me an impossibility to comprehend such brutality. More than 100,000 lives were lost in the blink of an eye, and another 100,000 in the devastating aftermath, from gruesome burns and injuries, or radiation poisoning. Such numbers can become just statistics: but each is a husband, wife, father, mother, son, daughter, young and old alike subjected to hell on Earth, as they went about their daily routine. Loading The Hiroshima Peace Memorial offers excruciatingly distressing, graphic evidence of the cruelty and annihilation of the cataclysmic event that occurred on this meticulously restored site. Foremost in my mind have remained the heart-wrenching testimonies of the few survivors still able to share their harrowing tales these decades later, as they sit on the tortured ground of Hiroshima surrounding the memorial – supported by passionate descendants and anti-nuclear activists, many of whom have made it their life's work to preach the futility of violence and war. But, as I sit and stare, motionless and aching at the never-ending coverage of the barbarism around our world today, I ask myself if humanity is actually capable of change. Could there ever be a day when the world can be at peace, in which megalomaniacs aren't able to wield such power, in which people of different religions, race and ethnicity can live side by side in harmony? Loading History teaches that such a day will likely never come, but we here who enjoy the relative calm of life, geographically distanced from the horrors across the world, must not look away. Rather, we share the responsibility to make our world a better place.
