Tag Archives: Russian Navy

Russia’s Strategic Brown Water Capabilities: A NATO Blind Spot?

February 2, 2026 Guest Author 2 Comments

By Helge Adrians

Russia is working to integrate inland waterways more deeply into its deterrence and defense posture. In Western contexts, this area of maritime geography is usually termed the ‘brown water zone.’ A harbinger of that development was the October 2015 strike against positions of Islamist groups in Syria, carried out by small warships in the Caspian Sea using land-attack cruise missiles (LACMs). Russia not only demonstrated a new level of operational reach (of over¹ 1,500 kilometers), but also revealed a singular capability that remains unmatched to this day – executing deep precision strikes (DPS) from inland waters.²

Indications that the Russian Navy could carry out such an operation from lakes and possibly even rivers had emerged a few years prior. As part of the State Armaments Program for 2007-2015, Russia started outfitting many of its naval vessels with a new, long-awaited universal vertical launch system (VLS). Like the US MK 41 VLS — which has been in use since 1986— the Russian 3S14 VLS is designed to accommodate different types of missiles (rather than using specialized tubes for each missile type, as was previously the case on Soviet and Russian warships)³. The outfitting included river-capable Buyan-class corvettes, of which a modified batch with an eight-cell VLS was built from 2010—the Buyan-M class, sometimes also called Sviyazhsk-class.⁴ Two years later, the 3M14 LACM—a variant of the Kalibr family of missiles—was introduced on surface warships. One of the first units was the Gepard-class frigate Dagestan, which is part of the Caspian Flotilla. The formation also received the first three Buyan-M class corvettes, commissioned in 2013.

The reinforcement of the Caspian Flotilla was no coincidence. It was closely linked to the naval build-up of the three former Soviet republics Azerbaijan, Kazakhstan, and Turkmenistan from the mid-2000s. The motivations behind this trend were twofold – a growing interest amongst the littoral states in exploiting the Caspian Sea’s economic potential, and the ambiguity surrounding its legal status at that time, particularly concerning maritime borders and access rights. Despite its scale resembling a marginal sea, the Caspian Sea is in practical terms an inland lake.⁵

Russia’s military port of Kaspiysk on the Caspian Sea. (Google Earth image via TWZ.com)

Although Western observers were aware of these two developments — ‘Kalibrization’ of the Russian Fleet and strengthening the combat power of forces of an inland water body — it seems they failed to derive the correct insights. For example, the Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces (INF) Treaty, concluded with the United States in 1987, prohibited land-based medium-range missiles, but not sea-based ones. This explains why Russia’s strike in October 2015 caused such significant surprise. As is often the case with such events, many of the subsequent analyses focused on the political implications and the technologies used, while paying less attention to the underlying conceptual framework.

New strategic importance of Russia’s inland waters

Russia’s inland waterways hold strategic significance. This is due to three reasons: first, the country has a large number of rivers spread across its entire territory; second, many of them are long and wide, well-suited for transporting cargo; and third, most of the rivers lie entirely within Russian borders, making them less accessible to Western intelligence. That may have been one of the reasons why the Soviet Union connected the waters west of the Urals in the mid-20th century. At the center is the Volga River, which flows into the Caspian Sea. Through the construction of canals, the Volga was also linked to the Baltic Sea and the White Sea in the North, and to the Black Sea in the South.⁶ This network is most commonly referred to as the Unified Deep Water System of European Russia (UDWS).

Map of the United Deep Waterway System of Russia. (Graphic via Wikimedia Commons)

From the earliest days of the Cold War, there were discussions within NATO about the military utilization of the UDWS. However, this was more about the possibility of moving single warships, especially submarines, between the northern and the southern flank covertly and thus protected from NATO attacks. To this day, Russia maintains naval shipbuilding at several shipyards along the Volga River. Until the 1990s, even Kilo-class submarines were constructed at a facility there.

Fitting river-capable corvettes with 3M14 LACMs and using them from the Caspian Sea has fundamentally altered strategic assessments of the UDWS, from a useful logistical corridor to an inland naval bastion. However, the capability to carry out DPS from such an unexpected location seems less the outcome of deliberate planning. It was more a consequence of budgetary limitations as a result of the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991 and the Russian financial crisis in 1998.⁷ Faced with the need to maintain its nuclear-powered ballistic missile submarines (SSBNs), Russia was forced to make cuts in surface fleet development. Enhancing the operational reach of so-called third-rank combatants like corvettes, traditionally used for operations in the littoral ‘green water,’ or as they say in the Russian Navy – ‘near sea’ zone – emerged as a pragmatic and creative compromise, particularly against the backdrop of the INF Treaty, which was in effect until 2019.^8,9 Amongst these are the aforementioned Buyan-M class and its more advanced successor, the Karakurt-class, of which several examples have been commissioned since 2018.

Searching for safe spaces

Following Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, naval platforms became part of the ground campaign through the use of 3M14 LACMs. Initially, such strikes were launched from the Black Sea. By end of December 2022, the Caspian Sea—far away from the frontlines—had also become a launch area for these operations. As Ukraine gradually managed to keep the Black Sea Fleet at distance through a combination of shore-based anti-ship missiles, sea mines, and later—with growing intensity since summer 2023 at the latest—uncrewed surface vessels (USVs), the strategic relevance of the Caspian Sea grew. It not only served as a safe space for continued DPS but also as a hub for repairing and replacing damaged ships.

The expanded use of uncrewed systems in the war against Ukraine plus Western intentions to acquire such platforms have made secure maritime areas increasingly vital for the Russian Navy. However, those are scarce. During the Cold War, Soviet fleets relied on an ‘area denial’-strategy (AD),¹⁰ also known as the ‘Bastion’-concept with regard to the defense of the bases of the Northern and the Pacific Fleet where Russia continues to concentrate its SSBNs. The extended defense of this protected space can be described as an ‘anti-access’-approach (A2). Long before the term ‘A2/AD’ was coined by Western analysts in 2003 and became a buzz word from 2014, Moscow had already developed the necessary capabilities as a lesson learnt from World War II (mainly a large long-range aviation and submarine force).^11,¹² These platforms threatened opposing surface warships, which could be detected and targeted before reaching Soviet positions. Even fleets in marginal seas were enabled to perform A2/AD. A renaissance came with the introduction of various land-based long-range missile systems from around 2012.¹³ For a long time, Western nations appeared to have little means to counter these A2/AD capabilities. Unmanned systems may offer a solution, as the Ukrainian armed forces have repeatedly demonstrated in the air and in the maritime domain. Due to their small size and design, uncrewed systems have low signatures. Consequently, they are frequently able to penetrate Russian defense layers unrecognized. As a result, the retreat of warships into protected areas under full Russian control—including the UDWS—appears to be the only viable option to safeguard against new asymmetric threats such as USVs and uncrewed underwater vehicles (UUVs).

In light of this, the Russian Navy has adapted for better protection, starting with the creation of a new naval district for the Sea of Azov in July 2023. Situated north of the Black Sea, it is a shallow shelf sea accessible primarily via the Kerch Strait, which Russia has controlled since annexing Crimea in March 2014. In the early stages of the invasion of Ukraine in 2022, Russian forces succeeded in closing the gap between Donbas and Crimea. Since then, Russia has gained full control over the Sea of Azov. One of the main reasons for this approach may have been that there is access to the UDWS via the Don River, which flows into the north-west. In the Sea of Azov, Russian warships are less exposed to Ukrainian attacks than in the Black Sea. This made the maritime enclave appear suitable, amongst other things, as a launch area for corvettes with LACMs.

Efforts to identify secure maritime spaces were also observed in other regions: in the east of the Baltic Sea, the Russian Navy appears to be planning to open up Lake Ladoga—situated north of St. Petersburg—as a fallback area for small warships. Covering nearly 18,000 square kilometers, it is the largest inland body of water in Europe. Since Finland’s defeat in the Second World War, it has been completely surrounded by Russian territory¹⁴ and became part of the UDWS. During the Cold War, the lake’s remoteness made it a strategically valuable site for naval testing, playing a role comparable to that of the Caspian Sea. Now, according to Russian media, it is set to become a component of Moscow’s deterrence and defense posture vis-à-vis NATO. For this, two Karakurt-class corvettes of the Baltic Fleet were deployed to Lake Ladoga for several days in September 2023, followed by two Buyan-M class vessels for a similar duration in September 2024.¹⁵ While in the first year the focus lay on navigation training and surveying former naval mooring sites repurposed by Russian state-owned defense companies, the second year was reportedly marked by notional launches of 3M14 LACMs as part of the major naval exercise Okean 2024.¹⁶

In Russian media, there have been discussions about bolstering forces for brown water operations. This was sparked by a March 2024 announcement from the then Russian Minister of Defense, stating plans to reconstitute a Dnieper Flotilla by the end of the year—intended to take over riverine combat duties from the ground forces. Such formations have existed intermittently since the 18th century, most recently until 1951. The Soviet Union also operated similar groupings on other major rivers. Russia has taken over some of them. The last major command was the Amur Flotilla at the Russian-Chinese border in the Far East: it was transferred to the Border Service in 1995 and formally disbanded in 1998. Apart from that, a sizable shipyard still exists on the Amur River, which also builds Karakurt-class corvettes. However, it is not yet known to what degree these will be deployed from there and whether Russia intends to build up further riverine units.

Amur River basin. (Graphic via Wikimedia Commons)

Decisive, complementary impact without salvos

The extent to which the Russian Navy attributes a strategic role to inland waters is currently connected to the deployment of Buyan-M and Karakurt-class corvettes. Nevertheless, the presence of these vessels beyond the usual duration of a transit is better understood as a sign that changes might be underway, rather than definitive evidence that a change has already taken place. This is because, although the corvettes can strike far-off targets using 3M14 LACMs, they are limited to carrying just eight per ship. However, in conjunction with long-range and decoy UAVs that could saturate air defenses, these assets enable surgical strikes or DPS, respectively, against select targets, particularly critical infrastructure. This reflects the ‘Strategic Operation for the Destruction of Critically Important Targets’-approach outlined in Russian military theory around 2010. The concept is to discourage an adversary from escalating or continuing a conflict by selectively destroying high-value targets, aiming to impact political or societal morale without causing mass casualties. This behavior has been repeatedly demonstrated in Russia’s war against Ukraine.

Such effects could also be achieved through ground- or air-based systems. In this context, warships should be seen as a supplement — particularly when other assets are absent or limited. One example is the Russian part of Karelia, an area east of Lake Ladoga, where Moscow only recently began expanding its ground force presence in 2024, following Finland’s accession to NATO in 2023, leaving the area initially lacking adequate deterrence capabilities.¹⁷ Even though Lake Ladoga is seasonally unusable due to ice cover, it can nonetheless be utilized temporarily for defensive or deterrent purposes.

The potential use of LACMs also serves to demonstrate the Russian Navy’s relevance in land operations—an aspect that should not be underestimated. Here, the focus is less on quantity but more on quality; internally, this reinforces the Navy’s standing within the Russian armed forces and political leadership, while externally, it contributes to strategic ambiguity by signaling that all branches of the military are capable of delivering long-range effects.

Closing NATO’s blindspot

Striking land targets from lakes offers several advantages. In addition to the protection against asymmetric threats, it also provides cover from reconnaissance and targeting by enemy missile systems. This is due to the stealthy design of the Buyan-M and Karakurt-class corvettes. When moving or hiding near shorelines, spotting, tracking, and targeting them becomes difficult. Moreover, engaging warships requires different types of munitions than those used against land-based systems like rocket launchers—specifically, warheads capable of penetrating hulls or superstructures to cause significant damage or achieve a kill. Most Western anti-ship missiles have limited range, typically only a few hundred kilometers, and travel at subsonic speeds over longer distances, making them easier to detect and intercept. Additionally, some anti-ship missiles designed for blue-water targets may struggle with targets amongst the cluttered shorelines of lakes and rivers.

While NATO may not prioritize countering Russian warships on lakes in a broader conflict scenario, the risk remains significant. Ukraine’s response offers a blueprint of what can be done. On the one hand, obstructing passage through chokepoints such as straits or locks can effectively trap warships or prevent them from entering. Since the start of the war, Ukraine has sought to block the Kerch Strait; for example, in July 2024, it targeted the nearby ferry terminal at Kavkaz from the air. According to the Ukrainian Navy, Moscow has withdrawn all warships from the Sea of Azov as a result.

On the other hand, the destruction of port infrastructure can disrupt the resupply of naval forces, particularly the reloading of missiles, which can only be done pier-side. Ukraine successfully struck Russian warships in the captured port of Berdiansk on the Sea of Azov in March 2022 as well as in the naval base at Kaspiysk on the Caspian Sea in November 2024. In the latter, both Gepard-class frigates and a Buyan-M class corvette would have been affected.

Ukrainian drones strike the naval base of the Russian Caspian Flotilla in November 2024. (Footage via Twitter/OSINT Technical)

There are also lessons to be learned from Russia’s tactics: in August 2025, it launched an attack on a Ukrainian reconnaissance vessel deep in a tributary of the Danube River. The vessel was reportedly underway in Ukrainian waters, just meters away from the opposite Romanian bank. Remarkably, Russia succeeded in covertly deploying a USV about 40 kilometers into the Danube to conduct the kamikaze strike, while coordinating a UAV to monitor the mission from the air (which could also have fired on the ship).

In principle, it seems possible that the Russian Navy may seek to enhance the strategic role of inland waters. The deployment of Kilo II-class submarines or the loading of 3M14 LACMs in the containerized Club-K version¹⁸ onto civilian riverboats are both conceivable, though unlikely due to the logistical complexity involved (because of, for example, river depths¹⁹ and currents²⁰ as well as satellite connections). Instead, Russia is more likely to focus on better protecting its Buyan-M and growing Karakurt-class corvettes. Increasing their numbers and distributing them when at sea or over several supporting sites make detection significantly more difficult. This would allow Russia to maintain a strategic reserve for DPS.

Conclusion

NATO should not underestimate Russia’s strategic brown water capabilities. The same applies to Japan and South Korea in the event that Moscow, contrary to current indications, intends to use the Amur as a launch area to defend the Sea of Japan and the Sea of Okhotsk. Therefore, it is essential to prepare doctrinally, enhance surveillance techniques, and develop effective countermeasures. This will require more unconventional thinking—for example, the dropping of sea mines, USVs and UUVs from the air or the arming of partisans with portable anti-ship missiles such as the Swedish RBS-17. New doctrine and capabilities can effectively account for this important yet underappreciated dimension of Russian naval influence.

Commander Helge Adrians, German Navy, M.A., is a Visiting Fellow at the German Institute for International and Security Affairs.

References

1. 3M14 should be able to fly up to 2,500 kilometers, according to [U.S.] State Department, Bureau of Arms Control, Verification and Compliance (2020): 2020 Adherence to and Compliance with Arms Control, Nonproliferation, and Disarmament Agreements and Commitments (Compliance Report), online in: https://2017-2021.state.gov/wp-content/uploads/2020/06/2020-Adherence-to-and-Compliance-with-Arms-Control-Nonproliferation-and-Disarmament-Agreements-and-Commitments-Compliance-Report-1.pdf (PDF file), June 2020 (accessed: 26.12.2024), p. 14 and 16.

2. The distance from the Caspian Sea to the targets in Syria was given by the official Russian side as ‘nearly 1,500 kilometers’, cf. TASS (2015): Caspian Flotilla ships fire 26 cruise missiles on IS targets in Syria — Defense Minister [sic!], online in: https://tass.com/defense/826919, 07.10.2015 (accessed: 18.12.2024).

3. Cf. Bogdanov/Kramnik (2018), p. 6.

4. Cf. Office of Naval Intelligence (2015): The Russian Navy. Historic Transition, Washington: N.p., p. 20.

5. For decades, the Soviet Union and Iran—the Caspian’s only littoral states until 1991—neglected to define its legal status. Only in 2018 did the five current coastal states reach an initial agreement (i.e., the Convention on the Legal Status of the Caspian Sea, also known as ‘Teheran Convention’), concluding that the Caspian Sea should be treated as neither a sea nor a lake in legal terms.

6. Cf. Jaghdani, Tinoush Jamali/Ketabchy, Mehdi (2023): The Strategic Significance of the Russian Volga River System, in: Russian Analytical Digest, Vol. 304, pp. 22-27, here: p. 22.

7. Cf. Mommsen, Klaus A. R. (2020): The Russian Navy. “Russia’s pride, strength, and asset”, in: Routledge Handbook of Naval Strategy and Security, edited by Krause, Joachim/Bruns, Sebastian (2018), Abingdon/New York: Routledge, pp. 305-314,
here: p. 307.

8. Cf. Kofman, Michael (2023): Evolution of Russian naval strategy, in: The sea in Russian strategy, edited by Monaghan, Andrew/ Connolly, Richard (2023), Manchester: Manchester University Press, pp. 94-123, here: p. 109.

9. For example, the delays in delivering the first two Admiral Grigorovich-class frigates in 2015 prompted a shift in focus toward building Karakurt-class corvettes instead, cf. РИА Новости (2015): Минобороны заявило, что ОПК “немножко сорвал” срок сдачи двух фрегатов, online in: https://ria.ru/20151224/1348076684.html, 24.12.2015 (accessed: 19.08.2025).

10. Cf. Ushirogata, Keitaro (2025 in English; 2019 in Japanese): Global Maritime Military Strategy. 1980-2023, Singapore: Springer, p. 128 ff.

11. This was related to the fact that the US developed a new strategy to deprive Chinese A2/AD-capabilities. Russia and Iran were also credited with such capabilities, making the issue more relevant for European NATO members, especially as there were fears after the occupation and annexation of Crimea that Russia could do the same with the Baltic states and make defence more difficult by activating A2/AD-systems, cf. Simón, Luis (2016): A European Perspective on Anti-Access/Area Denial and the Third Offset Strategy, online in: https://warontherocks.com/2016/05/a-european-perspective-on-anti-accessarea-denial-and-the-third-offset-strategy/, 03.05.2016 (accessed: 27.08.2025).

12. Cf. Gorschkow, Sergej (1976): Seemacht Sowjetunion, edited by Opitz, Eckardt (1978), Hamburg: Hoffmann & Campe, p. 266.

13. In 2012, the S400 air defence system, which entered service in 2007, was stationed in Kaliningrad—the first of the three missile systems primarily linked to A2/AD, cf. Dalsjö, Robert/Berglund, Christofer/Jonsson, Michael (2019): Bursting the Bubble. Russian A2/AD in the Baltic Sea Region. Capabilities, Countermeasures, and Implications (FOI-R–4651–SE), p. 27. The other two systems are Iskander (both the -M and -K version) against land targets, and Bastion-P against sea targets, cf. ibid., p. 10.

14. In late 1939, the Soviet Union demanded territory from Finland, citing the security of Leningrad (now Saint Petersburg) as a primary justification. After Finland refused, the Soviet Union invaded in November. The war ended in March 1940 with the Moscow Peace Treaty and the formerly shared Lake Ladoga became entirely surrounded by Soviet territory. Though contested during the 1941–1944 war, this control held. This outcome was formally recognized in 1947 with the Paris Peace Treaty that formally established Lake Ladoga as a Soviet inland lake under international law.

15. It was the Sovetsk (hull number: 252) and the Odintsovo (252), see the report ‘Baltic Fleet on Ladoga’ in: https://vpk.name/en/ 784930_baltic-fleet-on-ladoga.html 16.10.2023 (accessed: 24.11.2024). This is the English translation of the original Russian article by Timur Gainutdinov, published on Krasnaya Zvezda. The original text was published online but is not accessible from within Germany, cf. http://redstar.ru/na-sedoj-ladoge/. However, the Norwegian military blogger Thore Are Iversen uploaded the article and another English translation to X; see corresponding images at https://x.com/The_Lookout_N/status/ 1714640171176493411, 18.10.2023 (accessed: 27.12.2024).

16. One them could be the former naval base Lakhdenpokhya in the north west of the lake, cf. Ryabov, Kirill (2023): “Karakurt” on Lake Ladoga, online in: https://en.topwar.ru/228351-karakurty-na-ladozhskom-ozere.html, 19.10.2023 (accessed: 24.11.2024). Otherwise, the corvettes were moored at the floating bridge in Priozersk, as satellite images showed, see the Tweet by Thore Are Iversen in: https://x.com/The_Lookout_N/status/1833800057469952169, 11.09.2024 (accessed: 28.12.2024).

17. It was only in April 2024 that Russia announced its intention to station three missile artillery battalions equipped with the Iskander-M system in Karelia, see report ‘В Карелии сформирована отдельная ракетная бригада с ОТК «Искандер-М»0‘, in: https://iz.ru/1684603/2024-04-19/v-karelii-sformirovana-otdelnaia-raketnaia-brigada-s-otk-iskander-m, 19.04.2024 (accessed: 12.01.2025).

18. However, ‘[t]he current status of the Club-K system is unclear, and there is no public evidence that russia [sic!] has commenced serial production of this system’, cf. Syngaivska, Sofiia (2024): New Icebreaker Showcases russia’s [sic!] Advanced Naval Technology, Allegedly Suitable for the Kalibr Missiles, online in: https://en.defence-ua.com/weapon_and_tech/new_icebreaker_ showcases_russias_advanced_naval_technology_allegedly_suitable_for_the_kalibr_missiles-10743.html, 05.06.2024 (accessed: 26.08.2025).

19. Kilo-class submarines were usually deployed on barges across rivers, see the following undated photo in https://imgur.com/a/ lYRJeAO, 12.12.2023 (accessed: 04.01.2025). The link was shared in a discussion on Reddit, see https://www.reddit.com/r/ submarines/comments/18g02tl/how_submarines_built_in_nizhny_novgorod_were/, n.d. (presumably 2024; accessed: 04.01.2025). In 2021, a decommissioned November-class nuclear submarine was even transported via the White Sea-Baltic Sea Canal, see https://paluba.media/news/11667, 21.09.2021 (accessed: 16.01.2025).

20. Even smaller warships are therefore accompanied by tugs, as can be seen in a video showing the Karakurt-class corvette Taifun (805) on its way to Lake Ladoga in 2019, see https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jZ7uYoh-hXg&t=1s, 20.05.2019 (accessed: 03.01.2025).

Featured Image: Buyan-M-class corvette of the Russian fleet, December 2022. Russia. (Photo via Ministry of Defense of the Russian Federation)

Undersea

Neither Fish nor Fowl: China’s Development of a Nuclear Battery AIP Submarine

January 22, 2025 Guest Author 1 Comment

By Dr. Sarah Kirchberger and CAPT Christopher P. Carlson, USN (Ret)

On September 27, 2024, news broke that a previously unreported new type of Chinese nuclear-powered submarine, dubbed the “Type 041,” had suffered a major mishap at its fitting out pier at the Wuchang shipyard in Wuhan, according to unnamed Pentagon sources. Submarine expert Thomas Shugart had previously spotted an unknown submarine with a distinct x-shaped stern at Wuchang Shipyard from satellite imagery taken on 26 April 2024, and days later reported unusual crane activity at the same pier location from June 2024 imagery, speculating that the new boat suffered a serious incident.

Even more intriguing and consequential than the question of whether a submarine incident of some sort actually did occur at Wuchang or not, is however another issue: What type of “nuclear-powered submarine” could this new design possibly be?

China watchers were quick to point out that the Wuchang Shipyard in Wuhan had not hitherto built any nuclear submarines, although the shipyard’s facilities were completely rebuilt at a new location (from 2012-2020) and massively enlarged. All Chinese nuclear-powered attack submarines (SSN) and ballistic missile submarines (SSBN) have so far been constructed exclusively at the Bohai Shipyard at Huludao. The imagery of the new submarine makes it clear it is too small for a SSN, and is similar in size to China’s Type 039A/B/C Yuan series of conventionally powered submarines. Another interesting indicator was the reported type number – “041” – which is a continuation of the traditional numbering scheme carried by China’s diesel-electric submarines. By contrast, China’s nuclear-powered subs, whether SSNs or SSBNs, all have official type numbers starting with “09.” The next-generation Type 095 SSN and Type 096 SSBN are possibly already under construction at the Bohai Shipyard in Huludao, and there is no plausible suggestion that the smaller, unknown boat observed in Wuhan could represent either of those two platforms, given the larger estimated displacement of the Type 095 and Type 096 compared with the previous generation of Chinese SSNs and SSBNs.

A new type of nuclear battery AIP propulsion?

It would have been easy to dismiss the news of a supposedly nuclear-powered Type 041 submarine built in Wuhan as misinformation, were it not for the fact that several years earlier Chinese sources had hinted at a project for developing small, low power auxiliary nuclear reactors for conventional submarines, replacing the Stirling engine air-independent power system (AIP) that China developed based on a technology transfer from Sweden during the 1980s. A 2017 report by Richard D. Fisher described some details of such a plan based on slides from an academic lecture given by retired Rear Admiral Zhao Dengping.

Despite successfully developing a Stirling engine-based AIP system, China is known to have struggled with developing a more advanced, fuel cell-based AIP system as is currently in use with the German, South Korean and Singaporean navies, among others. Neither has China deployed lithium-ion batteries aboard its submarines, as pioneered by Japan. Here, Chinese analyses have stressed unresolved issues regarding the danger of thermal runaway, which poses heightened risks of a severe fire aboard a submerged submarine.

In light of such technical challenges, China may have decided to forgo developing high power density fuel cells or even more powerful Stirling engines for submarine applications, even though lithium-ion batteries are probably still on the table, opting for a different solution altogether by developing a nuclear battery.

Interestingly, as reported by R.D. Fisher, Rear Admiral Zhao Dengping’s lecture slides described just such a nuclear battery project. Of the presentation slides posted online, three dealt specifically with a small-scale nuclear reactor for conventional submarine platforms. One slide showed a basic schematic diagram that depicted a possible layout of the nuclear-powered electric propulsion plant. The reactor itself is described as a low pressure, low temperature design that employs natural circulation in the primary loop. Steam is generated, however, through an intermediate loop that appears to be in a separate compartment, which is then sent to a secondary loop with a conventional steam driven turbine generator in yet another compartment. While this design suggests an emphasis on safety, it does so at the expense of internal volume requirements and thermodynamic efficiency.

It is reasonable to ask if these slides accurately reflect Chinese intentions. With the benefit of hindsight, the response would be a confident “yes” because every slide posted from RADM Zhao’s lecture showed a platform or system that was then in service, undergoing testing, or was in the advanced research and development stage. For example, Zhao presented a slide that discussed a large deck amphibious assault ship – larger than the Type 075. The computer-generated graphic on the slide is very similar to the Type 076 currently under construction at the new Hudong-Zhonghua shipyard on Changxing Island. Another slide depicted an anti-ship ballistic missile (ASBM) engagement launched from a surface ship. This too has come to fruition when a video of a Type 055 launching an ASBM was posted in April 2022. These two examples of a platform or system that hadn’t been known to exist in 2017, but became evident years later, demand that the small reactor concept be taken seriously.

Some seven years after RADM Zhao’s slides became public, on 24 April 2024, a Chinese news article claimed that, in honor of the 75^th birthday of the PLA Navy, a “new nuclear-powered submarine installed with a domestically produced small nuclear reactor” and based on the hull design of the conventionally powered “Type 039C” AIP sub was in development at the Wuchang shipyard in Wuhan. Note, this article came out a mere two days before the satellite images of the shipyard were taken and subsequently analyzed by Tom Shugart. The article compares the new Type 041 submarine design to an enlarged French Rubis class and states that its submerged displacement would be around 4,000 tons and thus larger than the Rubis, allowing it to integrate more capable sensor and weapon systems. The article describes the small auxiliary reactor as a “low-temperature, low-pressure, subcritical nuclear reactor” to “directly charge” the boat’s battery rather than drive the propeller. This describes a nuclear battery AIP system that allows the battery to be charged continuously while the boat is submerged and would eliminate the need to surface every 20 days as in the case of China’s Stirling AIP submarines.

The article goes on to say the first one or two units of the Type 041 would likely be used as prototypes for weeding out technical issues before any further units would be produced. It speculates that if the development is successful, even older conventional submarines could be gradually retrofitted with a nuclear battery AIP system. The article states that this could potentially transform China’s conventional submarine fleet into a fully nuclear-powered fleet. Despite some questionable technical conclusions by the author, the article is consistent with Zhao’s lecture material.

What is a nuclear battery?

The reference to a “small” reactor on the Type 041 should be understood in the context of existing submarine reactors, which produce between 70 – 190 megawatts of thermal power (MWt) depending on the design and all belong to the category of microreactors. These reactors are defined by the International Atomic Energy Agency as having a power generation capability of less than 50 megawatts of electrical power (MWe), or approximately 220 MWt. Most microreactors are in the 1 – 20 MWe (≈6 – 125 MWt) range; the nuclear battery resides at the bottom end of this category. Nuclear batteries are loosely defined as nuclear reactors that produce up to 20 MWt or approximately 3 MWe. These reactors are indeed “small” in comparison to those on larger SSNs and SSBNs and can fit into a Type 039A/B/C submarine pressure hull that is about 7.1 meters in diameter.

While rather scarce, nuclear batteries have been used in submarine and submersible designs before: the American NR-1 (≈1 MWt), the Soviet Project 651E Juliett with the VAU-6 (4.9 MWt) boiling water reactor, the Project 20120 Sarov, and the collection of deep-diving submersibles of the Soviet/Russian Main Directorate of Deep-Sea Research or GUGI, including Project 1851 X-Ray, Project 1851.1 Paltus, Project 1910 Uniform, and Project 1083.1 Losharik, reported to have a pressurized water reactor in the 10 – 15 MWt range. Lastly, Canada conducted considerable research in the late 1980s to develop a “baby nuke” submarine using an Autonomous Marine Power Source or AMPS-1000 powerplant with a maximum design power of 10.8 MWt.

Based on RADM Zhao’s description that the small reactor being considered operates at low pressure and low temperature, it is reasonable to assume a maximum thermal power rating of 10 – 11 MW – consistent with Soviet and Canadian experience. The thermodynamic efficiency would be on the low side for historical nuclear batteries, around 12% – 13%, due to the losses involved with the additional intermediate steam generation loop as shown in the system diagram slide. Despite the low efficiency, such a nuclear power plant could generate about 1.3 MWe, four to five times that of any conventional AIP system. The hull size of the Type 041 revealed in satellite imagery is sufficiently large to accommodate the design as shown, but even with the additional 7 meters in length, the Stirling engines and cryogenic oxygen storage would have to be removed to free up additional volume.

Operational advantages of a nuclear battery

All types of advanced conventional AIP propulsion systems, whether fuel cell, Stirling engine, or steam turbine based, offer extended submerged endurance to small and medium size submarines when compared with traditional diesel-electric propulsion systems, such as that fitted to the Project 636M Kilo-class China imported from Russia. The latter typically needs to come up to snorkeling depth every day for two to three hours to recharge its batteries, assuming a 10% – 12% indiscretion rate, thus greatly increasing the risk of detection. At best, a Kilo-class submarine can stay submerged at slow speed for about three days before needing to snorkel. Chinese analysts have in the past lamented the fact that this limitation exposes Chinese submarines to adversary anti-submarine warfare (ASW) forces just when they are about to reach deeper diving depths in the Okinawa Trough after leaving port in East China. Any AIP system would help to alleviate this predicament, but the maximum submerged transit speed of a submarine utilizing a conventional AIP system is still only 4 – 6 knots. A nuclear battery AIP system as described above could support submerged transit speeds of up to 9 – 10 knots while meeting all hotel loads and the electrical power requirements of the nuclear plant auxiliaries.

Another advantage that is often not discussed is that there is ample electrical power available to outfit a Type 041 with a full spectrum of atmospheric control equipment. Conventional AIP boats still need to ventilate daily to renew the atmosphere with fresh air, unless the crew relies on a limited supply of consumable chemical systems to purge carbon dioxide and carbon monoxide from the atmosphere. Oxygen isn’t a problem as the crew can vent off a little from the AIP cryogenic oxygen tank to support their needs. A Type 041 can feasibly be fitted with compact oxygen generators, carbon dioxide scrubbers, and carbon monoxide-hydrogen burners, thereby giving the submarine complete independence from outside air.

Lastly, despite what the advertising brochures say, conventional AIP systems do not charge submarine storage batteries well. They can keep a fully charged battery topped off, but recharging a battery that has been significantly discharged is really not a viable option. Russian brochure data on the Project 636 Kilo states that it would take about 12 hours to recharge a completely discharged battery; this is with most of the output of two 1.5 MW DC generators run by the diesel engines. A conventional AIP system would be hard pressed to produce even a tenth of the power that diesel-driven DC generators can provide – this means multiple days to fully recharge a very low battery. A nuclear battery AIP system would be more capable of recharging a battery, but it will still take longer than using the diesel-driven DC generators. The main advantage in this case is the nuclear AIP system could support sufficient speeds to move the submarine clear of a possible ASW threat so that the diesel generators could be used to recharge the battery.

This severe limitation is why most AIP submarine crews tend to operate their boat like a traditional diesel-electric submarine for as long as they can, holding the AIP system in reserve for those tactical situations that demand greater stealth. By contrast, a nuclear battery AIP system turns this operating concept on its head. The crew can rely on the reactor to meet all their operating needs, allowing them to hold the battery in reserve to deal with those rare occasions where higher speed sprints are required to approach a target. In other words, a “SSn,” if you will, can patrol like a larger nuclear attack submarine, but because it lacks high-speed endurance would have to resort to conventional submarine approach tactics as the situation demands.

Due to their smaller size and comparative quietness, a SSn is better suited than larger SSNs to area-denial missions in shallow, coastal waters where the environment would make it difficult to detect a nuclear battery AIP platform; this makes them likewise useful for intelligence and mining missions. Whenever greater speed and longer steaming distances are required, however – for instance when hunting an adversary carrier strike group or tracking and trailing SSBNs on the high seas – their limitations render the SSn unsuitable. China, in light of its complex maritime geography of shallow littorals, does have an enduring requirement to operate both smaller coastal submarines for area denial missions in the Near Seas, as well as larger SSNs and SSBNs for its nuclear deterrence and missions in the Far Seas.

Could China have developed a nuclear battery AIP alone?

China has had difficulties in designing modern, reliable, and safe nuclear reactors for its next generation SSNs and SSBNs and reportedly has turned to Russian assistance in the recent past. This raises the question whether Russian help was also involved in developing China’s nuclear battery AIP submarine propulsion. Although open-source information falls short of a definitive answer, some indications hint at Russian assistance.

Firstly, the Soviet Union, and later Russia, have the most operational experience with this type of propulsion plant. The Soviet and Russian navies have operated nine relevant submarines, including the Project 651E Juliett and the Project 20120 Sarov, with the majority assigned to GUGI. Given that most of these nuclear battery plants were designed and built in the 1980s, Russia’s defense establishment would likely feel comfortable in sharing detailed design information on the older systems as well as providing technical support to China’s endeavors.

Secondly, Russia has previously transferred other types of nuclear propulsion technology to China. CMSI reported in 2023 that an agreement concluded in 2010 between Rosatom and the China Atomic Energy Agency for the expansion of Russian-Chinese joint nuclear power programs – including floating nuclear power plants – gave China “access to detailed technical information on the nuclear reactors Russia was installing on their nuclear power barges and new icebreakers.” These reactors either didn’t fully address China’s military needs or were too large for installation aboard a submarine, but nonetheless this transfer indicates a general willingness of Russia to provide China sensitive nuclear reactor technology.

Thirdly, there have been announcements that China and Russia are collaborating on a novel type of small submarine design. Already in 2015, reports indicated a Chinese interest in procuring four Lada-class submarines from Russia – a purchase that was never followed through in light of the Lada-class’s vexing technical issues. However, on August 25, 2020, quoting an official representative of the Federal Service for Military-Technical Cooperation (FSMTC), Russian state media announced that Russia and China were “jointly designing a new generation non-nuclear submarine.”

Although no further public information about this new type of jointly developed conventional submarine has since been disclosed, in October 2020, Vladimir Putin gave an intriguing answer to a question on Russian-Chinese relations at the 17th Valdai Annual Meeting:

“We have achieved a high level of cooperation in the defence industry—I am not only talking about the exchange or the purchase and sale of military products, but the sharing of technologies, which is perhaps most important. There are also very sensitive issues here. I will not speak publicly about them now, but our Chinese friends are aware of them. Undoubtedly, cooperation between Russia and China is boosting the defence potential of the Chinese People’s Army, which is in the interests of Russia as well as China.”

Though the nature of these “very sensitive” technologies remains unclear, submarine technology certainly fits the description, and in September 2024, news reports indeed indicated that Russia was supporting China with improving the nuclear propulsion plant of its next-generation Type 096 SSBN.

Fourth and lastly, Russia and China have for several years steadily enhanced their collaboration in sensitive anti-submarine warfare related technology areas – including fiber-optic hydrophones and underwater communication. This could be related to a general trend in their subsurface warfare cooperation.

Could the jointly developed Russian-Chinese “new generation non-nuclear submarine” be the Type 041? The apparent contradiction between the Russian statements and the arguments presented in this article could be accounted for if neither the Chinese nor the Russians consider this a traditional nuclear submarine, but a conventional submarine that uses a nuclear battery AIP system. Semantics? Perhaps, but this premise would also provide a rationale as to why the Type 041 was constructed at Wuchang instead of Huludao.

At this stage, it is not possible to determine whether the reported nuclear-powered Type 041 submarine spotted at Wuchang is related to the joint submarine collaboration that was announced in 2020. This new submarine could be solely a Chinese project, or a Chinese project that received some technical aid from Russia. None of these possibilities can be excluded.

The mutual benefits of collaboration on sensitive submarine technology

Russia, despite its superiority in the field of building nuclear submarines, has long struggled to develop AIP propulsion for its smaller conventional submarines. Russian industry representatives have envied China’s successful Stirling engine-based AIP system, going so far as to admit that the Rubin Design Bureau, when trying to develop fuel cell AIP and lithium-ion battery technology at the same time, was spreading itself too thinly and therefore did not succeed.

China, for its part, has lagged behind Russia in nuclear propulsion technology and has in the past received help from Russia in that area. The known transfers of Russian nuclear reactor technology might therefore just be the tip of the iceberg. There are thus clearly potential synergies that could be exploited. Joining forces to improve Chinese AIP with a small auxiliary nuclear reactor might be a project in which both sides could bring their respective strengths to the table while each profiting from a common submarine design. This hypothesis needs to be evaluated in the light of future information as it becomes available.

Since at least 2023, there has been speculation about the possibility that Russia might opt to rejuvenate its war-depleted fleet by ordering naval vessels from Chinese shipyards, which can offer competitive prices and superior production capacity, even for highly complex warships, when compared with cash-strapped Russian yards. On July 5, 2023, a Chinese news article reported a visit by Russia’s Navy Commander-in-Chief Yevmenov to the Jiangnan shipyard in Shanghai. The article frankly discussed the possibility that Russia might opt for Chinese shipyard orders to solve its production capacity problems – noting however that this would be possible only “if Russia can overcome its pride.” A joint submarine design could, however, be produced in parallel by Chinese and Russian shipyards.

Opting for an advanced, nuclear battery AIP design would also make operational sense for Russia, not least because the whole concept originated from the Soviet Union in the 1970s.

Russia is at a disadvantage vis-à-vis NATO submarines in the shallow and confined undersea domain of the Baltic Sea, where its traditional nuclear-powered submarines can’t operate as efficiently as in deeper water. For that theater alone, a more capable, smaller AIP submarine would be desirable – and likewise for the Black Sea, Barents Sea, and parts of the Arctic Ocean, where Russia also routinely encounters NATO navies. In particular the recent Norwegian-German Type 212CD class submarine cooperation would be a serious concern for Russia on its northern flank. The pressure of having to meet those challenges, against the backdrop of Russia’s increasingly lopsided dependency on Chinese political and economic support due its war against Ukraine and Russia’s reduced shipbuilding production capacity, may have induced Russia to agree to a joint development of nuclear battery AIP submarines.

Even without an official agreement, there is the possibility that Russia’s arms industries could be faced with a brain drain of Russian specialists towards China, as Russia’s economic crisis worsens. There could thus be informal, behind-the-scenes Russian involvement even in a “purely indigenous” Chinese submarine program.

Conclusion

So far, the limited information on a new Type 041 submarine spotted on satellite imagery at Wuchang Shipyard yields more questions than answers. The above musings should be treated as hypotheses, to be revised as new data emerges. However, given the rapid modernization of China’s military, and particularly its navy, it seems advisable to keep an eye on the likelihood that the Type 041 submarine could be sporting a novel, auxiliary nuclear powerplant in place of the Stirling engine previously employed in its AIP propulsion system. Furthermore, such an improvement may have been derived from Soviet (and now Russian) technology, which pioneered auxiliary nuclear batteries for submarines during the 1980s. And if that were the case, the Type 041 may be the outcome of a Russian-Chinese collaboration on a new type of conventional submarine as announced by Russian state media in 2020.

Lastly, even if the Type 041 is indeed a novel kind of nuclear-powered small submarine, the Chinese SSN and SSBN programs (Type 095 and 096) will almost certainly continue because they are independent submarine development projects that are designed for distinctly different operational roles. Indeed, suggestions that the reported flooding casualty suffered by the Type 041 constitutes a major setback in China’s nuclear submarine program is overstated. The development of a smaller nuclear AIP submarine is completely segregated from the Type 095 and 096 production effort – an effort the Huludao Shipyard was enhanced to meet. At worst, the Type 041 mishap is a minor speedbump in China’s overall submarine modernization plans.

If the theories on the nuclear battery propulsion system presented above are confirmed, then the Type 041 SSn is neither fish, nor fowl. It would possess some, but not all, of the benefits associated with a traditional nuclear-powered attack submarine. In short, it would be a tertium quid – a third something – designed to specifically address China’s geographical and geopolitical concerns in the Near Seas.

Dr Sarah Kirchberger is Director of the Institute for Security Policy at Kiel University (ISPK) and Vice President of the German Maritime Institute (DMI). She is the author of Assessing China’s Naval Power and editor of Russia-China Relations: Emerging Alliance or Eternal Rivals?. Formerly an Assistant Professor of Sinology at the University of Hamburg, she has also served as a naval analyst with shipbuilder TKMS. She holds a M.A. and a PhD in Sinology from the University of Hamburg.

Christopher Carlson is a retired U.S. Navy Reserve captain and Department of Defense naval systems engineer. He began his navy career as a submariner and transitioned to the scientific and technical intelligence field in both his reserve capacity and in his civilian job. He is one of the co-designers, with Larry Bond, of the Admiralty Trilogy series of tactical naval wargames – Harpoon V, Command at Sea, Fear God & Dread Nought, and Dawn of the Battleship. He has also authored numerous articles in the Admiralty Trilogy’s bi-annual journal, The Naval SITREP, on naval technology and combat modeling.

Featured Image: A PLA Navy submarine steams during a training exercise in the Yellow Sea. (PLA photo)

Russia-Ukraine Week

Reconsidering Russian Maritime Warfare

April 11, 2022 Guest Author Leave a comment

Russia-Ukraine Topic Week

By Michael B. Petersen

How might Russian maritime forces be brought to bear against the United States and its allies? This question is particularly critical as fears of inadvertent escalation in Ukraine increase. Understanding the answer requires a close reading of what Russian military theorists themselves write about warfare, matched with an examination of maritime geography; combat power; and intelligence, surveillance, reconnaissance, and targeting (ISR-T). Constraints in all of these areas mean that rather than solely seeking out targets at sea for a series of navy-on-navy fights, Russian maritime forces are likely to be more effective at operations that focus on striking “critical objects” on land rather than ship-to-ship combat at sea.

Many analyses of Russian naval warfare focus on the concept of anti-access/area denial (A2/AD). These valuable studies nevertheless do not discuss Russia’s ability to fight at the theater level. A broader assessment at this level is necessary in light of renewed suggestions that Russia may seek to close the Greenland-Iceland-United Kingdom (GIUK) Gap or English Channel, or engage in a “Fourth Battle of the Atlantic” over sea lines of communication.

The Russian Federation Navy’s Wartime Tasks

Understanding the navy’s role first requires a basic grasp of Russian conflict periodization. The two most critical periods in Russian military thought are the “Threatening Period” (“Ugrozhayemyy Period,”) and the “Initial Period of War” (“Nachal’nyy Period Voiny”). In contemporary Russian military philosophy, the Threatening Period is generally characterized as a short, sharp crisis potentially leading to war, while the Initial Period is characterized by decisive, rapid, joint, military, political, and cyber operations designed to achieve primary objectives or enable follow-on operations.

The Ministry of Defense has assigned several tasks to the Russian Navy in the Threatening Period. They include

rapid mobilization and transition to wartime footing as part of a strategic deterrence mission
Isolation of local conflicts and preventing them from growing into a regional war
Protection of Russian economic interests and freedom of navigation at sea

Given the Russian General Staff’s philosophical emphasis on preemptive operations, the Navy is also required to be able to rapidly shift to offensive and defensive combat operations when ordered. This is generally considered the start of the Initial Period of War.

In the last decade, Russian naval thinkers have emphasized the importance of land attack against critically important targets (or “objects”), especially in the Initial Period. Its official doctrine notes that one of its roles is “to attack the critically important ground-based facilities of the adversary, without violating, until a certain moment, its national sovereignty.” A crucial wartime objective is “destruction of enemy’s military and economic potential by striking its vital facilities from the sea.” This is a concept known in some circles as “the fleet against the shore.”

This is not to minimize the more traditional need to destroy naval targets at sea. For example, an influential article in the General Staff’s journal Military Thought highlights attacks against “maritime carriers that are the global strike assets” and “maritime components of the U.S. national [missile defense] system”). Thus a combination of strikes against critical targets afloat and ashore are at the core of a naval cost imposition strategy.

Indeed, despite the West’s analytic emphasis on A2/AD, Russian naval warfighting philosophy does not focus exclusively on sea control or denial. Instead, it emphasizes cost imposition ashore and afloat via strikes against targets selected for their critical strategic value. Russian naval strategists blend both, attempting to both limit damage and impose cost.

The Tyranny of Geography

While geography offers Russia certain advantages in the littorals and so-called “Near Seas” (a term rarely defined, but generally understood as laying up to 300 nautical miles off shore), as a factor in warfighting against distant targets, geography presents Russian forces with significant challenges. The long-standing geographical concept of a “loss of strength gradient” is useful here. This is a unit of competitive power that is lost per some unit of distance from home shores. In short, relative military strength changes with distance. In Russia’s maritime domain, this loss of strength gradient is particularly relevant at the operational level of war because of capacity limitations and the broad failure to secure overseas alliances or bases.

Russian warfighting in its littoral and Near Sea regions is based around a densely layered and redundant network of land-based sensors, jammers, decoys, land-based missiles, and tactical fighters. As it moves into the Far Sea zone and distant “World Ocean,” (both roughly over 300-400nm from Russia) the military’s loss of strength gradient begins to take hold as the potential volume of contested geographic space increases and available sensors decrease. Larger areas require higher-volume over-the-horizon search capabilities coupled with large numbers of survivable oceangoing warships. Both are in limited supply in the Russian Navy.

Moscow has successfully built lines of smaller and less complex naval platforms that are expected to defend its near seas in conjunction with shore-based assets. The smaller size of these ships limits their range and survivability, confining their anti-ship capabilities to local waters. But many are nevertheless equipped with the Kalibr land-attack cruise missile, capable of performing a theater strike role against targets ashore nearly 1,000 miles away.

Larger platforms, especially large surface combatants and nuclear-powered submarines based in the Northern and Pacific Fleets, have greater range and survivability. In the near term, however, they suffer from severe order of battle constraints. If Moscow draws off SSNs to defend its strategic nuclear ballistic missile submarines, then the navy’s fighting strength in the Far Sea and World Ocean is may be limited to three to five submarines in the North Atlantic, for example (an area comprising some 6.4 million square miles), and two or three in the vast Pacific.

Over-the-Horizon ISR

Over-the-horizon (OTH) ISR, an essential element of open-ocean warfare, is perhaps Russia’s most critical maritime warfighting challenge. Its maritime joint combat force has developed extraordinary long-range anti-ship missiles, but they cannot kill what they cannot find. In order to exploit that range, the volume of required search space has exploded. OTH sensors capable of transmitting target-quality data to shooting platforms have lagged behind this need.

Russian shore-based sensors have impressive capability out to a few hundred miles — the Near Sea Zone — but are inadequate for open-ocean targeting. To overcome this, Moscow has constructed a new family of electronic intelligence satellites. The “Liana” system of satellites collects electronic signals emitted by adversary naval vessels and transmits that information to Russian warships equipped with the proper satellite communications equipment. According to open sources, only one Pion-NKS satellite and three Lotos-S satellites are currently operational. Publicly available satellite tracking websites indicate that there may be considerable coverage gaps.

Long-range maritime patrol and reconnaissance aircraft such as the Tu-142 Bear-F and Il-38 May must fill these gaps. But Russia lacks forward basing, fighter aircraft with similar range, and carrier-based fighter aircraft, making long-range escort of these missions impossible. Unless they are willing to assume extraordinary levels of risk, unarmed reconnaissance aircraft must stay within easy reach of Russian fighter patrols or land-based SAM coverage for their own protection, limiting the ocean area they can safely cover.

Sensors aboard warships and submarines also have critical limitations. For submarines, only under certain conditions will sonar detections of surface vessels be possible out to a few dozen miles. Surface platforms can have much greater detection ranges, but lack the endurance and survivability of nuclear-powered submarines. Ship-based ISR presents an ever-increasing risk as it patrols farther away from shore-based air defense. Finally, as Russian analysts themselves acknowledge, even the most advanced systems are not foolproof against sophisticated adversaries.

Imagining Russian Warfare at Sea

How might these dynamics manifest themselves in a high-intensity, regional or large-scale war in the next two to three years? Combining these military concepts at the operational and strategic level of war with Russian strengths and limitations, and pitting them against a sophisticated adversary such as the United States and NATO, it is possible to gain a sense of the broad contours of such a conflict.

During the Threatening Period, the Russian Navy is likely to begin dispersing to assigned patrol areas in the littorals, Near Sea, and Far Sea zones in an effort at crisis deterrence. Ashore, theatre-level Aerospace Defense Forces deployed along maritime frontiers will be brought up to higher states of readiness and possibly deployed from garrisons. The goal of all of these forces would be to threaten “deterrent” or unacceptable damage to the potential adversary.

Given the General Staff’s sensitivities to correlations of forces over time and its emphasis on preemptive warfare, Moscow may initiate hostilities if it believes that deterrence is failing. Rapid, decisive strategic aerospace operations, or strategic operations for the destruction of critically important targets (SODCIT), are key elements of potential campaigns in the Initial Period. Yasen and Yasen-M SSGNs are especially crucial in this regard, and may be required to attack military-industrial facilities, headquarters, and C2 nodes. Importantly, with only two or three potential submarines in this class in the near term, order of battle shortfalls place limitations on Russia’s ability to execute this mission, but given targeting limitations against naval targets, land attack is a key area of emphasis.

The navy will likely comprise one component of a larger effort to achieve local superiority during this period. For example, in a hypothetical conflict in Europe or East Asia, the Initial Period may be characterized by an intense campaign against targets in places such as Norway, Romania, and Poland in Europe, and perhaps in Japan in East Asia. This campaign may form part of a larger effort to conduct theater-wide attacks on strategic targets with precision standoff weapons. Put another way, Russia may attempt to “expand” its adversary’s relative geography by pushing its opponents out of bases closer to Russia, forcing a more costly application of resources, while a nation like the U.S. may attempt to “shrink” its own by using standoff strike in order to bring follow-on military power forward.

Russian Long Range Aviation (LRA) bombers firing long-range precision-guided munitions from sanctuary may be more dangerous than the navy’s limited number of cruise-missile shooting submarines and their relatively small potential salvo size. Nevertheless, modern Kalibr-capable vessels should not be dismissed. Even if “bottled up” in their home waters in the Barents, Baltic, or Black Seas, smaller vessels can still strike most of northern, central, and eastern Europe. These attacks can have a decisive political effect on the course of a conflict.

Moving, uncooperative adversary naval targets are a far more difficult targeting problem. Large naval platforms in the Northern and Pacific Fleets, dispersed in the Threatening Period, may attempt to overcome open-ocean ISR shortcomings by lying in wait near maritime choke points. Though limited in number, nuclear-powered submarines play a crucial role in both offensive cost imposition and defensive damage limitation by seeking out these vessels before they get into striking range of Russian shores.

This is where the geographic loss of power gradient may affect Russia’s adversaries. If Russia can successfully eliminate forward air basing, the U.S and its partners must invest greater resources to move large amounts of combat strength forward. If the U.S. Navy must come forward, the searchable volume of ocean shrinks proportionately. Surface ships, including carrier strike groups, could be exposed to attacks from strike aircraft, other surface ships, and any submarines that may be lying in wait. Counter-ISR-T and operational maneuver techniques are likely to be the difference between life and death. Given these conditions, it is possible that the relative power gradient may rebalance if a U.S. carrier strike group or other platforms come forward.

This stage of warfare may be where Russia can impose the most cost. Large Russian surface combatants will provide air defense and surface strike while smaller frigates and corvettes, many equipped with Kalibr anti-ship cruise missiles, will conduct anti-surface warfare. But given limitations in numbers of missiles on board and the absence of at-sea reloads, an equal contributor in the effort to dole out punishment on any adversary naval forces that come forward will be made by land-based strike aircraft supported by tactical fighters and shore-based missile systems.

Implications for Analysis and Planning

This analysis has several implications. First, arguments about threats to Trans-Atlantic SLOCs require much greater analytic clarity because they run the risk of warping strategic realities. Given Russian capacity and OTH ISR challenges, it seems likely that points of embarkation and debarkation — the ends of the SLOCs, not the vast middle of the SLOCs — are at risk, primarily because it is comparatively easier to destroy a ship in port than it is to do so at sea. The circumstances of geography and the state of their own military modernization would likely drive Russian naval forces in this direction.

The majority of Russian naval effort would likely be dedicated to inflicting carefully dosed conventional damage effects in an effort to disorganize responses, interrupt logistics flows at fixed points, and generally impose “deterrent” or “unacceptable” damage that coerces an adversary to sue for peace on terms favorable to Russia. Thus, the bulk of offensive activity is likely to be on landward, fixed targets as part of a joint campaign aimed at cost imposition. Long-range precision guided munitions may be used either from the sanctuary of distant bastions or from the far seas. Russian joint assets are less likely to dedicate the lion’s share of resources for long and frustrating hunting missions for moving targets in a very large ocean. Such attacks, while possible, are far more ISR-intensive and tactically complex.

Concerns about Russia’s purported ability to threaten targets south of the Greenland-Iceland-United Kingdom Gap (GIUK Gap) are probably inflated. While Russia may technically be able to close the GIUK Gap or even the English Channel for a time, the likelihood of such an attempt is low. Rather, Russian warfighting strategy is partially shaped by its need to minimize its asymmetric disadvantages in warship capacity and ISR. In short, Russia still lacks the open-ocean capacity necessary to meaningfully overcome the geographic loss of strength gradient and successfully conduct ship-to-ship fighting in the central Atlantic at a scale to defeat the United States and NATO.

Even so, this analysis also suggests that the U.S. and NATO should not ignore investments in key future capabilities. Continued development in ISR and counter-ISR capabilities will remain essential. But counter-ISR will be no guarantee against attack. As Russia fields more advanced sensors to feed combat platforms equipped with new hypersonic anti-ship missiles, avoiding detection and shooting down inbound missiles will become ever more difficult, requiring more investments in so-called “soft-kill” technologies that seduce missiles to strike false targets. In addition, if Russia is able to successfully expand the maritime geography, U.S. and NATO partners are likely to require greater investments in aerial refueling to ensure that tactical combat aircraft are able to transit and fight at long distance.

Finally, it is worth remembering that any wartime adversary of Russia gets a vote. Too much of what passes for analysis of the Russian military, particularly its maritime warfighting capabilities, is carried out in the absence of what a sophisticated adversary may do with its own force. War is a dynamic interaction. Moscow’s potential opponents have effective and powerful militaries of their own, and are developing sophisticated concepts to deter or defeat Russia. Any clear-headed assessment of Russian maritime warfighting must take both perspectives into account.

Dr. Michael Petersen is director of the Russia Maritime Studies Institute and Holloway Advanced Research Program at the U.S. Naval War College. The opinions here are solely the author’s and do not represent those of the U.S. Navy or Department of Defense.

Featured Image: Russian Navy Admiral Gorshkov-class frigate Admiral Gorshkov. (Alamy photo)

History

The Norwegian Thunderbolt: Vice Admiral Peter Wessel

December 4, 2019 Guest Author 1 Comment

By LCDR Jason Lancaster

Introduction

Peter Wessel was only 10 when the Great Northern War started, and he was 30 when it ended in 1720. In nine brief years he rose from naval cadet to Vice Admiral. I first learned of Peter Wessel, also known popularly known as Tordenskjold (Thunder Shield), in a Danish film, Satisfaction 1720. The film depicted Tordenskjold as a depraved and lecherous idiot exploiting wartime victories which were stumbled upon through accident, and pursues a novel theory into his untimely death in a duel. This film led me to further explore both the Great Northern War and the life of this remarkable naval officer. Unsurprisingly, the movie’s account of his personality vastly differs compared to the few English language books about him. Although Denmark and Norway share streets and warships named after Tordenskjold, his name and deeds are largely unknown in the English speaking world. His exploits along the Baltic coast deserve remembering.

Sweden Ascendant

Sweden’s main political goal of the 17^th century was the establishment of Dominium maris baltici, or Swedish domination of the Baltic Sea. Sweden’s defense of Protestantism and its major military contributions to the outcome of the Thirty Years War (1618-1648) had enabled Sweden to acquire a sizable portion of the Baltic coast and operate as the dominant power in the Baltic Sea. However, the British and Dutch prevented Sweden from exercising complete domination of the Baltic coast.

Sweden’s preeminence was resented by the other Baltic powers. In 1697 King Charles XI of Sweden died, leaving his fifteen year old son, Charles XII, on the throne. The other Baltic states saw their opportunities for territorial expansion. That year, Peter the Great, Emperor of Russia and Augustus the Strong, Elector of Saxony and King of Poland, met in Dresden. The two men shared much in common; they were both tall, incredibly strong, and fond of drinking. They agreed to an alliance against Sweden. But despite their mutual desire for war, both needed time to prepare. Augustus had just been elected King of Poland with Peter’s help and needed more time to solidify his rule. Peter needed to conclude a peace treaty with the Ottoman Empire before he could turn his attention to the Baltic. Both Peter and Augustus sought additional allies for war and found King Frederick IV of Denmark. The three nations formed an alliance to attack Sweden from all sides, overwhelm the boy-king, and divide the Swedish empire.

Map showing the development of the Swedish Empire in Early Morden Europe, 1560-1815. (Wikimedia Commons)

Unfortunately for the allied powers, despite Charles XII’s youth, he was no pushover. Charles XII demonstrated his military prowess by defeating each power in turn. Denmark was forced out of the war by August 1700, after the Swedes almost captured Copenhagen. The Saxon/Polish forces invaded Livonia, but were defeated, and Saxony/Poland was driven out of the war by 1706, with Augustus the Strong forced to cede the throne of Poland to a Swedish puppet. From 1702-1710, the Russians and Swedes fought over the coasts of Ingria and Karelia. Initially, the Swedes had the upper hand, winning victories at Narva (1700), but the Russians eventually pushed the Swedes back, and Peter established the city of Saint Petersburg in 1703 with the construction of the Peter and Paul Fortress. After Sweden’s crushing defeat at Poltava (1709), Augustus the Strong and Frederik IV rejoined Peter the Great along with George I, Elector of Hannover. In 1714, George was crowned King of Great Britain, bringing Britain into the conflict. In 1712, Frederich William Elector of Brandenburg and King in Prussia also joined the conflict, setting the stage for a rapidly escalating war.

Peter Wessel joins the Navy

Peter Wessel was born the 14^th child of a Trondheim merchant. His family owned multiple ships and several of his elder brothers served at sea in the Danish Navy or merchant marine. Peter wanted to follow in their footsteps, while his mother wanted him ashore either as a cleric or a member of whichever guild would accept him. School bored Peter, and he spent a great deal of time fighting bullies instead of studying his ablative absolutes. During the winter of 1704, at the age of 14, Peter ran away from apprenticeships as a tailor and barber-surgeon and set off on foot for Copenhagen to find himself an appointment to the Danish Naval Academy.

In 1704, King Frederick IV visited Trondheim, offering an opportunity. Peter Wessel hid himself amongst the royal retinue for the trip to Copenhagen. During the arduous trek across Norway, Peter observed how the king had cheerily received audiences of common people and spent time with them in stables and around campfires. Peter decided that he could reach out to the approachable king for help.

When Peter arrived in Copenhagen he called on his father’s old classmate, Dr. Jespersen, the King’s Chaplain. Peter told him his story, and asked for help getting into the Naval Academy. The king often visited Dr. Jespersen, and on one summer’s day in 1705, Peter asked the king for a naval academy appointment during his usual visit to Dr. Jespersen’s stable. Unfortunately, that year’s class had been shrunk by half to 52 cadets and there were no vacancies. King Frederick promised Peter that he would get a spot. While waiting for an appointment, Dr. Jespersen tutored Peter and taught him to channel his bountiful energy. Another year passed and still no appointment. Dr. Jespersen returned home from the palace one day with the king’s response, “no vacancies.”

Peter’s brother Henrik was a Danish Navy Lieutenant, although he had never actually served aboard a Danish warship, rather he had served on a Dutch man-of-war and was heading east to serve aboard a Russian warship. Henrik said Peter would benefit from time at sea aboard a merchant ship gaining experience until his appointment. Henrik had a Dutch shipmate who was Chief Mate aboard a Danish West Indiaman, Christianus Quintus, shortly bound for the West African coast for a cargo of slaves to sell in the Americas. Henrik got Peter a berth as the most junior of five cabin boys. Peter received valuable experience during the voyage in seamanship, gunnery, and navigation which prepared him for the Naval Academy and future voyages.

After two years at sea, Peter returned to Copenhagen. With still no naval academy appointment awaiting him, 18-year old Peter again wrote King Frederick detailing his experiences at sea and the king’s promise of an appointment. The letter failed to produce results, however, Peter was allowed to take the entrance exam and then join the Naval Academy as a volunteer with no pay or uniform until a billet opened in the class. Peter knew his father would pay his expenses and that he could continue to live with Dr. Jespersen.

Just as things were looking up, Peter received a letter from Trondheim. His family’s property had been destroyed during a fire. With no way to maintain himself at the naval academy, Peter signed on as a deck hand on a Danish East Indiaman bound for India. On October 5, 1708 Peter sailed for India, and during the journey his appointment as a cadet at the naval academy was signed by the king on January 11, 1709. During the voyage Peter was promoted to Boatswain’s Mate and then to 3^rd Mate. In May 1710, Peter’s ship arrived off the Norwegian coast to learn that Denmark had re-entered the war against Sweden. The ship’s master was unwilling to risk the passage to Copenhagen through swarms of Swedish privateers and pulled into Bergen to await a convoy. Peter displayed the impatience which would bring him future battle glories and signed on as a sailor aboard a neutral British merchant ship bound for Germany via Copenhagen.

Major cities and scenes of battle for Peter Wessel in the Baltic (Author graphic)

Again, misfortune followed Peter. The ship became wind-bound in the Kattegat and pulled into Marstrand, Sweden. Peter was a Danish officer, not in uniform and dressed in English clothing meaning Peter could have been hung as a spy. Peter decided to have a look at the town while the ship was in port. He posed as a Dutch sailor and spoke to sailors, soldiers, and townsmen in the taverns and waterfront and observed the placement of batteries throughout the area. Once the British ship put to sea, Peter found a Danish warship to carry him to the Danish squadron under the command of Admiral Barfoed carrying the Governor-General of Norway Baron Løvendal. Peter reported aboard and then made his report to the two leaders. Baron Løvendal was impressed with both Peter’s demeanor and his clear reports on Swedish dispositions at Marstrand. The Baron had Peter assigned to his personal staff until Peter was able to be delivered to the naval academy.

Junior Officer

Peter started at the naval academy in September 1710. After three years before the mast, Peter found the curriculum boring. Again, he wrote to the king detailing his experiences and asking for a commission. In April 1711, Admiral Sehestad, the naval academy superintendent handed Peter his commission as a temporary sub-lieutenant and his orders to report to Postilion. Postilion’s executive officer billet was gapped, and Peter’s experiences at sea made him the most qualified officer aboard to fill the gapped XO billet. In less than a year, Peter had gone from naval cadet to XO of a frigate.

Postilion was a 26-gun frigate purchased from the French and assigned to convoy duty. The French had equipped Postilion with 26 twelve pounders, but the Danish Navy had downgraded them to six and eight pounders. The administrators of the Danish Navy preferred smaller cannon because they consumed less gunpowder which saved money. The tactical disadvantage was not a concern to them. The Postilion‘s convoy duties were slow, boring, and frustrating. Protecting merchant ships that might or might not want to stay in formation from one port to the next was not the exciting duty that an active junior officer sought.

After escorting a convoy to the town of Langesund, near Christiana, Peter went ashore with dispatches. He heard of a Norwegian, Jørgen Pedersen, constructing small ships called snows in Langesund for General Løvendal. Warships had not been constructed in Norway since the Vikings, but Peter was one of only two naval officers to visit the shipyard. The two Norwegians got along well, both because of Peter’s interest in the snows under construction and because Jørgen Pedersen had helped construct Postilion in France. The two discussed Peter’s current ship.

Peter knew that he would not make his name as XO of a frigate on convoy duty, but he had a plan. The new snows that Jørgen Pedersen was constructing needed captains. Who better than himself to take a small ship to harass the Swedes along the rock strewn coasts of Sweden? The governor general of Norway was still Baron Løvendal, whom Peter had served with before starting at the naval academy, and Peter brought him dispatches from Denmark. The two former shipmates discussed Peter’s rapid promotion, the Baron’s plans for the new snows being constructed, and the war in Norway. Peter left the Baron with an order to take command of one of Pedersen’s new snows, Ormen, which boasted a crew of 46 and mounted five cannons including two 4 pounders, two 2 pounders, and a single one pounder. After less than 12 months in the navy, Peter was captain of his own ship.

Løvendal’s Galei

Jørgen Pedersen not only constructed four snows for the Norwegian defense forces, but he also constructed an 18 gun frigate. In typical Danish fashion, she was under armed, boasting 12 six pounders and 6 four pounder guns. When the frigate was completed, Baron Løvendal appointed Peter the captain. In honor of his friend and patron, Peter named the ship Løvendal’s Galei. Peter desired to continue his depredations along the Swedish coast, but his frigate was often busy supporting the fleet in the Baltic campaign against Stralsund and convoy duty in the North Sea.

Previously as captain of the Ormen, Peter operated along the Swedish coast, capturing Swedish privateers and scouting for Baron Løvendal. Later, on 26 July 1714, Peter earned his most famous exploit from his time as captain of Løvendal’s Galei; a single ship duel with the 28-gun Swedish privateer Olbing Galei. The Swedish privateer was English built and captained by an Englishman. The two ships both approached under false colors. Olbing Galei under the English flag, and Løvendal’s Galei under Dutch colors. Once the vessels had neared they replaced the false flags with the flags of Sweden and Denmark. Despite the disparity in broadside, Løvendal’s Galei hit Olbing Galei hard causing major damage to the rigging, and then the two ships fought for 14 hours until Peter ran out of powder and shot.

With ammunition gone, Peter sent a messenger to Olbing Galei stating that the only reason he was not discontinuing the action out of cowardice, but only because he was out of ammunition. Peter asked for powder and shot to continue the fight. Captain Bachtman declined to give him the ammunition, ending the fight. The two captains then toasted each other as they sailed away.

Peter wrote his dispatches to two people, General Hausman, now in charge of Danish forces in Norway, and King Frederik in Denmark. From Norway, General Hausman sent Peter his hearty congratulations. From Denmark came court martial proceedings. Peter’s rapid promotions had created many enemies in the Danish Navy. The dispatch for the king was taken by one of Peter’s enemies and subsequently distorted to damage his career. Peter was charged with recklessly endangering his command by fighting a ship superior to his own and for disclosing valuable military secrets by telling the enemy ship that he lacked ammunition, and other unspecified charges. The Judge Advocate General proposed demoting Peter to sub-lieutenant and forfeiture of six months’ pay.

On December 15, 1714 the court martial concluded. 10 of 14 members of the court voted for acquittal. The court martial was composed of eight admirals and six commodores and captains. The four most junior members voted for Peter’s demotion. This vote reflected the bifurcated reputation of Peter Wessel. His rapid rise threatened many of his peers from sub-lieutenant to captain, however, admirals approved of his victories. Upon conclusion of the court martial Peter visited King Frederik. He brought two documents with him; acquittal papers from the court martial and an application for promotion to captain, which the king accepted. On December 28, 1714 Peter Wessel was promoted to captain.

Dynekilen

King Charles arrived in Stralsund, Swedish Pomerania in 1714 after having spent the past five years in Turkey. The city had been under siege since 1711. King Charles wanted to use Swedish Pomerania as a launching point for a renewed offensive against the Saxons and Russians. Unfortunately, Peter and the Danish fleet prevented Sweden from reinforcing Stralsund. Multiple times Peter’s ship fought larger more heavily gunned ships and prevented their relief of Stralsund. In December, 1715 the city fell to the Dano-Saxon-Prussian forces besieging the city. Charles XII might have been losing the war, but he was not going to make peace. Instead, he escaped from Stralsund and returned to Sweden to continue the war.

In October, 1715, in honor of Wessel’s work preventing the Swedish Navy’s reinforcement of Stralsund, he was knighted. His new name and title, Tordenskjold, meant thunder shield, in reference to his thundering attacks against the Swedes and his defense of Denmark.

In March, 1716, King Charles decided to invade Norway. He split his forces to simultaneously to attack Christiana and Frederikstad. The roads in this part of Norway were poor and often impassable, therefore Swedish supplies had to come by sea. Swedish forces took advantage of the rocky islands strewn across coastline between Marstrand and Frederikstad to run supplies from fortified point to fortified point to reach the army’s supply depots outside Frederikstad. The Swedes used shallow draft galleys that hid in inlets and coves where the deep draft Danish squadron could not go. If Denmark could sever the Swedish sea lines of communication (SLOCs) they could isolate the Swedish army and end the campaign. Danish Admiral Gabel wrote to Tordenskjold explaining the situation. Characteristically, he immediately sought action.

On 7 July 1716, Tordenskjold discovered a Swedish force at anchor behind a battery in deep in the Dynekilen Fjord, which featured between 14 and 29 Swedish transports as well as 15 escorts ranging from 24 to 5 guns each as well as a battery of 6 twelve pounders. Tordenskjold advanced into the fjord with four frigates and three galleys. Tordenskjold subsequently landed soldiers on the island to take the battery. The fire from his frigates overpowered the escorts; Stenbock surrendered, and the galleys crews attempted to ground and fire their vessels. Tordenskjold proceeded to take or burn as many transports as possible. Swedish soldiers began to arrive and threaten his position, but Tordenskjold calmly took his prizes and destroyed any ships he could not cut out and then sailed out of the fjord.

Disposition of forces at the Battle of Dynekilen (Author graphic)

The battle was a decisive victory for Denmark. According to Danish records, Tordenskjold had captured seven warships and 19 transports, but Swedish records however list Tordensjkjold as having captured seven warships and 14 transports. The actual numbers are less important than the result of the battle. Swedish forces besieging Frederikstad halted the siege and withdrew. Sweden’s offensive capabilities were crippled until 1718. As a result of his success, King Frederik promoted Tordenskold to Commodore (Rear Admiral).

Conclusion

Between 1716 and 1720 Tordenskjold continued to fight the Swedes. He attacked Swedish forces in Stromstad, Marstrand, and Goteborg. In nine brief years he rose from a naval cadet to the rank of Vice-Admiral in the Danish Navy. His seamanship, calmness amidst chaos, and intrepid leadership created opportunities for victory. His men loved him for his demeanor, but his rapid rise created enemies in the Danish officer corps. He was not the buffoonish character as seen in the film Satisfaction 1720; that man would never have succeeded at sea.

In 1720, Denmark’s role in the Great Northern War ended. His heroism and seamanship played a major role in ensuring Denmark was on the victorious side of the conflict. Later, Peter contemplated marriage with an English aristocrat and service in the Royal Navy. But at the age of 30, Peter Wessel Tordenskjold was killed in a duel with Colonel Jacob Stael von Holstein over a game of cards. Tordenskjold’s second was Lieutenant Colonel Georg von Münchhausen, father of the famous Baron von Münchhausen. Today, Norway and Denmark both claim Tordenskjold as a hero. Both Denmark and Norway named warships after him, and today he is buried in Denmark.

Monument to Peter Wessel Tordenskiold, Trondheim, Norway. (Wikimedia Commons)

Sweden began the war as a major European power, and ended the war reduced to the status of a second rate power. With the exception of Swedish Pomerania, Sweden lost the entire southern rim of the Baltic. Russia demonstrated her arrival as a leading European power, gaining dominance over the eastern Baltic and a window to the west: the port cities of Saint Petersburg, Reval, and Riga.

Although Denmark was on the winning side of the war, she did not achieve her objectives. Although Denmark occupied Swedish Pomerania for five years after Stralsund fell, the province was returned to Sweden at the making of peace. The territories of Bohuslen and Scania remained Swedish. The maritime powers of Great Britain and the Netherlands would not allow one nation to control Øresund, the Kattegat, and Skagerak. The Baltic trade included valuable commodities for sea power, including cordage, tar, and trees. In order to maintain their maritime dominance, the maritime powers of Britain, France, and the Netherlands would not let a single nation control the entrance to the Baltic Sea and monopolize the trade. Denmark won the war, but lost the peace.

LCDR Jason Lancaster is an alumnus of Mary Washington College and has an MA from the University of Tulsa. He is currently serving as the N8 Tactical Development Officer at Commander, Destroyer Squadron 26. His views are his own and do not necessarily reflect the official position of the U.S. Navy or Department of Defense.

Bibliography

Adamson, Hans Christian. Admiral Thunderbolt. Philadelphia and New York: Chilton Company, 1959.

Anderson, M.S. Peter the Great. New York: Longman Group, 1995.

Anderson, Roger Charles. Naval Wars in the Baltic during the Sailing Ship Epoch, 1522-1850. London: C. Gilbert Wood, 1910.

Bjerg, Hans Christian. “På kanoner og pokaler.” Dankse Tordenskjold Venner. July 24, 1964. https://archive.is/20130212170512/http://www.danske-tordenskiold-venner.dk/tordenskiold/artikler/02_kanon_pokal.htm (accessed October 12, 2019).

Denner, Balthasar. “Portrait of Peter Jansen Wessel.” Danish Museum of National History. Portrait of Peter Jansen Wessel. Frederiksborg, Denmark, 1719.

Jonge, Alex de. Fire and Water: The LIfe of Peter the Great. New York: Coward, McCann, and Geoghegan, 1980.

Molstead, Christian. On Guns and Cups, 1925.

Featured Image: “Paa kanoner og pokaler” (On guns and cups), depicting the episode 27th july 1714 where the danish frigate Lövendals Galley commanded by norwegian officer Tordenskjold encounters the swedish-owned, former english frigate De Olbing Galley on the swedish westcoast. After a long fight the danish ship runs out of gunpowder, and the ships part after a toast between the two opponents. (Book Strömstad : gränsstad i ofred och krig by Nils Modig, page 134, via Wikimedia Commons)

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