The U137 Incident: A Cold War Comedy of Errors with Chilling Undertones
The grainy image, splashed across the pages of Dagens Nyheter on October 29, 1981, captured a group of Soviet sailors on the deck of a submarine, their bulky winter coats and glum expressions hinting at a profound sense of embarrassment. Their vessel, U137, a Whiskey-class Soviet submarine, had run aground deep inside Swedish territorial waters near the Karlskrona naval base. Not only was the grounding humiliating, but it was also diplomatically explosive, occurring during the height of the Cold War. The image, frozen in time, captured the beginning of a bizarre drama that would captivate Sweden and the world.
The sailors’ attempts to free the submarine throughout the night proved futile, and by morning, a Swedish fisherman stumbled upon their predicament. News quickly reached the Karlskrona naval base, and a patrol boat confirmed the fisherman’s report. The red star on the conning tower left no doubt about the submarine’s origin. The incident, quickly dubbed "Whiskey on the rocks," became a source of anxiety for the Swedish public and a potential flashpoint in the ongoing Cold War tensions. The incident’s darkly comedic nickname, however, belied the serious geopolitical implications.
While some found a grim humor in the situation, many Swedes harbored a deep unease. The Soviet Union, at the time, was still perceived by many as an impenetrable superpower, a formidable military and technological force. This image was bolstered by the Soviet Union’s consistent victories in international hockey and its carefully cultivated image as a technological and military powerhouse. The presence of a Soviet submarine so close to a vital Swedish naval base sparked fears of a potential escalation. A Soviet flotilla, including two destroyers, stationed itself just outside Swedish waters, adding to the tension as the Soviet government demanded the return of its submarine.
The official Soviet explanation for the grounding—a faulty gyrocompass causing navigational errors—was met with widespread skepticism. Submarines, by their very nature, conjure images of espionage and covert operations. They are the silent predators of the deep, instruments of hidden agendas. The incident fueled speculation about the true mission of U137, with theories ranging from espionage to the planting of listening devices. This fear of hidden threats, exacerbated by the Cold War paranoia, resonated deeply with a public already conditioned to distrust the Soviet Union.
This distrust of Russia had deep historical roots in Sweden. Dick Harrison, in his book "Fienden" (The Enemy), explores the long and often fraught relationship between the two nations. He highlights a period around the turn of the 20th century where fears of Russian spies were rampant, with itinerant Russian knife sharpeners often suspected of being agents of the Tsar. This suspicion was not entirely unfounded, as historical events such as the disappearance of Raoul Wallenberg, the sinking of Swedish merchant vessels by Soviet submarines during World War II, and the downing of civilian aircraft reinforced the image of a ruthless and unpredictable neighbor.
The Swedish government’s historically cautious approach towards the Soviet Union, often characterized by a reluctance to provoke its powerful neighbor, is key to understanding the context of the U137 incident. Concerns about Soviet submarine incursions into Swedish waters prior to the U137 grounding had been dismissed by some as exaggerated or even fabricated to justify increased military spending. The U137 incident, however, provided undeniable proof, a “smoking gun,” of Soviet activity in Swedish waters. This incident vindicated the concerns of the Swedish military and highlighted the vulnerability of Sweden’s defense.
The Swedish military seized the opportunity presented by the U137 incident to showcase its readiness. Swedish media were granted access to the grounded submarine, while international press were kept at a distance, capturing images of Viggen fighter jets, helicopters, and Swedish troops engaging in simulated combat exercises near the stranded vessel. This carefully orchestrated display of military strength was intended to send a message of resolve to both the Soviet Union and the international community.
After a tense week of diplomatic negotiations, U137 was escorted out of Swedish waters and handed over to the waiting Soviet flotilla. The incident, however, had far-reaching consequences. It became a turning point in Swedish public opinion and political discourse, fueling a heightened awareness of the Soviet threat and ushering in an era of increased military spending and vigilance. The grounding triggered a wave of submarine sightings, some genuine, others likely misidentified, leading to further political debates and investigations.
The U137 incident exposed a deeper, more uncomfortable truth about Sweden’s carefully cultivated image of neutrality. Despite its official stance, Sweden had long been aligned with the West, particularly the United States, in the ongoing Cold War. The incident brought this duplicity into sharp focus, fueling heated debates about Sweden’s true position in the global power struggle and challenging the national myth of Sweden as a beacon of peace and neutrality.
The true purpose of U137’s mission into Swedish waters remains a mystery. One theory suggests that the incursion, while not intended to be so publicly embarrassing, was a deliberate act, a calculated message to Sweden. Perhaps it was a subtle reminder of the Soviet Union’s power and a warning against straying too far from its sphere of influence. On November 5, 1981, the day before U137’s departure, Prime Minister Thorbjörn Fälldin announced that the submarine carried nuclear weapons, adding another layer of shock and concern to the already tense situation.
Following the collapse of the Soviet Union, tensions seemed to ease. The rise of Boris Yeltsin, perceived as a more moderate and approachable leader, fostered a sense of optimism. Sweden reduced its military spending, and the U137 incident became a subject of dark humor. The once palpable fear of Soviet aggression seemed to dissipate. However, the rise of Vladimir Putin, a former KGB officer, served as a stark reminder of Russia’s enduring geopolitical ambitions and its capacity for aggression.
The U137 incident, once framed as a Cold War comedy of errors, now serves as a cautionary tale, a reminder of the potential for miscalculation and escalation. It underscores the importance of vigilance and the need to question assumptions about national security. The incident’s legacy continues to resonate, particularly in light of renewed concerns about Russian activities in the Baltic Sea and beyond. The incident serves as a potent reminder that not all threats are immediately visible, and that complacency can be dangerous.
