Tackling the Underwater Threat: How Ukraine Can Combat Russian Submarines

 Dr Sidharth Kaushal and Dr Kevin Rowland  

7 March 2023 

  

Given that building anti-submarine warfare capabilities along Western lines would require significant time and resources, how can Ukraine best counter the Russian submarine threat?

One of the signal successes of the Ukrainian armed forces has been denying the Russian Black Sea Fleet’s surface vessels the ability to operate in close proximity to Ukrainian shores. The successful attack on the fleet’s flagship, the Moskva, with indigenous Neptune anti-ship cruise missiles and the subsequent Russian defeat at Snake Island denied the fleet the air cover it needs to be able to operate in range of an increasingly credible Ukrainian anti-ship missile threat. As such, it may prove increasingly difficult for Russia to enforce a renewed surface blockade of Ukraine if it decides that inflicting economic harm is important – a likely assumption if the war of attrition continues over the longer term.

That being said, Russia does have other options with which to menace Ukraine’s maritime economy. The risk posed by naval mines represents one vector; another is the use of submarines, which have not featured significantly in the conflict thus far. The Black Sea Fleet’s force of four Project 636 (Kilo) and Project 877 (Improved Kilo) submarines have not been used in a blockading role to date, acting primarily as a launch platform for 3M-14 Kalibr cruise missiles. However, if Russia did decide to use them in this capacity, it would raise new challenges for Ukraine’s sea denial strategy, which thus far has had to contend primarily with the (comparatively) easy task of anti-surface warfare. The skills and capabilities needed for Ukraine to conduct anti-submarine warfare (ASW) along Western lines would be time-consuming and expensive to generate, and are unlikely to be acquired in the foreseeable future, begging the question of how to ‘do’ ASW on a shoestring.

The Relevance of the Black Sea Fleet’s Kilo-Class Submarines

In the immediate term, and for good reason, Ukraine’s priorities are likely to remain primarily land-focused. However, should the conflict reach a point of enduring, frozen stalemate, Russia may shift its military focus to wearing down the Ukrainian economy, which has already seen a 30% reduction in GDP. To an extent, this has been visible in the air and missile campaign witnessed over the winter. Moreover, it would follow a pattern of how belligerents attempt to secure a strategic breakthrough when a tactical battlefield breakthrough seems unlikely – with precedents such as the Iran–Iraq tanker war and the British blockade of Germany during the First World War.

To an extent, one might argue that Moscow does not need military force to inflict a de facto blockade – simply declaring that it has pulled out of the grain deal, for example, would likely cause insurance rates to spike to exorbitant levels. However, two alternative scenarios might be considered.

First, Moscow may wish to drive a spike in insurance costs without paying the diplomatic price for pulling out of the grain deal. A deniable attack could be facilitated by the Kilo-class submarines. The boats can clandestinely lay up to 24 naval mines each during a single sortie. A direct torpedo attack would be more audacious, but it is worth recalling the time it took to attribute North Korea’s sinking of the South Korean vessel Cheonan in 2010 – four months – by which time the initial international outrage had abated. Attacking a vessel carrying a volatile substance such as ammonium nitrite might offer a level of deniability which, however implausible, could preclude unambiguous attribution. To consider the impact of such action, we might consider that in 2019, insurance rates in the Strait of Hormuz rose tenfold after Iran’s limpet mine attacks – even though a convoy system was put in place.

Second, the Black Sea Fleet’s submarines are an important launch platform for Russian cruise missiles such as the 3M-14 Kalibr, which – according to some experts – came close to delivering a death blow to Ukraine’s energy grid this winter. Any effort to maintain Ukraine’s viability in the long term will depend on the ability of its economy to at least partially recover from the impact of war, and open sea lines of communication will be crucial. The Black Sea Fleet’s submarines thus represent a clear and present challenge which the Ukrainian navy will need to resolve.

The Challenge of ASW

There are, however, be a number of issues that will preclude any effort to transpose a Western approach to ASW to Ukraine in the medium term. First, the platforms involved are too expensive and small in number to be gifted. Assets such as the P-8 maritime patrol aircraft or specialist ASW frigates are unlikely to be transferred, and the Ukrainian armed forces would struggle to crew, operate and protect them in any case.

ASW is an inherently skill-intensive task. Training an aviator on a Royal Navy Merlin helicopter, for example, takes at least 11 months before they can be integrated into frontline squadrons, and training pipelines everywhere are well known to be at capacity already. Training times for sonar operators are similarly long. Moreover, this excludes the challenge of integrating personnel into coherent units that can operate in tandem with one another. Though the Ukrainian navy had 11,000 personnel in its service when the war began, the fact that it had lost much of its fleet after 2014 – as well as an understandable focus on events on land – raises questions about the speed at which necessary competencies can be built, or rebuilt, within the force.

Finally, the maintenance of the platforms needed to operate an ASW barrier along Western lines would strain capacity at Ukrainian facilities, particularly if they remain under bombardment.

As such, a solution to the challenge of ASW – at least in the near term – needs to be developed along fundamentally different lines from traditional, Western approaches.

Begin with the End State, Not the Platform

There could, however, be relatively cost-effective solutions to the challenges that Ukraine faces. These could be built on the principle that harassment, rather than sea denial, should be the immediate Ukrainian goal. It is not necessary to destroy Russia’s submarines if they can be prevented from doing operationally useful work.

As a working hypothesis, it is reasonable to assume that Russian sabotage or interdiction of shipping to Ukraine is likely to occur within or close to Ukraine’s exclusive economic zone in the northern Black Sea, both to signal intent and because damaging vessels in a warzone is likely to be less contentious to the international community than sinking them well within international waters. If this is the case, the geography of the northern Black Sea offers partial solutions. The average depth of the area – 200 metres – is less than the 240-metre depth at which the Kilo generally operates, meaning that navigation and operation will be more difficult for submarines. This is not to say that it is impossible, and some parts exceed the average depth. However, submarines operating in the northern Black Sea do so at increased risk of collision, grounding and detection. The passage of submarines can be made even more risky by seeding the areas within which they can operate with remotely activated mines such as the US Hammerhead. Because these mines can be remotely activated, they are compatible with international law, and the fact that they can be programmed to seek specific magnetic anomalies aids against target misidentification. This would force the Kilos to operate in even shallower waters, increasing their risk even further.

Beyond canalising submarines through mines, Ukraine could use uncrewed capabilities to harass them further. For example, UAVs operating dipping sonobuoys and lightweight torpedoes could be utilised in an ASW role – an avenue that multiple navies are pursuing, albeit experimentally. While accurate detection by a UAV thus equipped may not be certain, a responsible submarine commander would have to take evasive action if he or she detected a pinging sonar, potentially disrupting firing solutions, affecting the vessel’s endurance, or even putting it in navigational danger. The perception that a UAV is armed and primed to attack could be exacerbated if some UAVs were equipped with munitions while many more were equipped with decoys that simulated the acoustic profile of an attack. We might think of the impact that the US Navy’s Julie Jezebel sonobuoys – which simulated the noise profile of a depth charge – had on Soviet submariners during the Cuban missile crisis.

Russian submariners’ perceptions of operational risks could also be compounded if Ukraine were to take possession of even a very limited number of ASW helicopters. Finally, the presence of NATO or other intelligence gathering aircraft, including P-8s, over the Black Sea would force Russian commanders to consider the possibility that Ukrainian assets were being cued, which – whether true or not – could be reinforced by conducting UAV flights at times at which the aircraft are present. Ultimately, all of these actions would raise the perceived risk for Russian operators and slow the rate and tempo of their activity.

Conclusions

There are no perfect immediate-term solutions to the submarine challenge. In the long term, after the war’s conclusion, Ukraine might well consider meeting the goals set out in its 2019 naval strategy, including rebuilding a surface fleet capable of limited sea control in peacetime, as well as prosecuting ASW missions near its shores and other sea denial missions. In the meantime, while the ideal of denying areas to Russian submarines is unlikely to be achieved, Ukraine can impose upon the Kilos and their operators a set of conditions which – though they may not end the submarine threat – will strain both vessels and crews. The immediate goal guiding Ukrainian ASW, then, should be harassment.

The views expressed in this Commentary are the authors’, and do not represent those of RUSI or any other institution.

Read more here.

Getting to Know the Russian Battalion Tactical Group

 Lester W Grau and Charles K Bartles

14 April 2022

• 
  
  
  Much has been written on Russia’s battalion tactical groups in recent weeks. It is thus of value to revisit their origins and capabilities, and the roles they were set up to play.

 

Introduction

Success in modern conventional warfare is determined by a combination of effort, environment and – to an extent – luck. However, the most important determinants of victory are the actions of combined arms units. Only these units, in cooperation with other branches of arms and other military services, can perform the full spectrum of defensive and offensive tasks. The execution of these tasks depends upon the enemy’s composition, position and probable course of action; the position and condition of one’s own subordinate, attached and supporting units; the conditions of the area on which the assigned tasks will occur; and weather. Traditionally, Russia’s lowest echelons capable of performing combined arms tasks were the regiment or brigade, but experimentation in the 1980s led to a semi-permanent combined arms formation at the battalion level, the Battalion Tactical Group (BTG).

Russia’s 2022 invasion of Ukraine has made the term ‘Battalion Tactical Group’ commonplace beyond the expert community, from the mass media to YouTube and a plethora of blog sites. Though understanding of the invasion is still in its infancy, this article intends to shed some light on what a BTG is, and how it is used in a Russian military context.

At the time of writing, details are still sketchy, but based upon media reports and a few captured Russian maps, it appears that Russia has conducted a partial mobilisation, deploying only partial divisions/regiments, brigades, and independent BTGs. Larger formations have apparently deployed only with their BTGs, leaving their other manoeuvre battalions in garrisons. Although the Russians appear to be having difficulties, this structural change was likely envisioned from the beginning of the operation, as the scale of the conflict is unsuitable for the sole use of independent BTGs. The BTG was ideal for earlier fighting in support of separatist ethnic Russian elements in Donetsk and Luhansk; however, large-scale combat requires large-scale combined arms operations and battalions fighting as part of larger entities.

The brigade/regiment may now be the primary unit of manoeuvre, but some independent BTGs likely remain in play. They are either being spun off a parent regiment/brigade for a particular mission (such as forward detachments, advance guards, raiding detachments, flank guards, or urban assault detachments) or may be entirely independent. It is likely that some BTGs will be subordinated to regiments/brigades that they are not otherwise affiliated with, and possibly to different branches, including the naval infantry and airborne troops (VDV), if expedient.

History of the Battalion Tactical Group

The BTG is not a new feature in Russian military thought. The Russian Civil War (1917–1923) included raiding groups, forward detachments, rear guards, advance guards and other mobile battalions comprised of horse cavalry, machinegun detachments mounted on horse-drawn carts, horse-drawn artillery, and occasional tanks or armoured cars. Their focus was on speed, manoeuvre, the ability to mass fires and forces, and the interaction of these forces to achieve a combined combat power greater than the component parts. During the Second World War, the Soviets fought primarily with separate infantry, armour and artillery units that occasionally fought as combined arms units, but usually integrated shortly before the battle. Artillery and artillerymen were always present in infantry battalions in the form of mortars, direct-fire cannon and antitank rifles.

During the Cold War, the Soviets realised that combined arms units were more effective than integrating branch units just before the fight. There were problems integrating them in garrison and training. Branch units occupied their own barracks. Tanks, personnel carriers and artillery required different maintenance parts and services. Branch weapons qualification required different ranges and facilities. Branch proficiency was necessary before putting different branch soldiers together in exercises or combat. So the Soviet Army trained for branch skills, but when it went on field exercises, it fought combined. The results were not always inspiring. Commanders struggled to integrate their branch forces with those of other branches – though units that trained together on a sustained basis performed better.

Over time, divisions and regiments became fairly proficient in combined arms combat, but the nature of the battlefield was changing. Modern weapons forced units to spread out in order to survive. The future battlefield would be fragmented, with gaps between units, open flanks and combat not only at the front line, but also throughout the battlespace. The concept of the front line itself was being challenged. It thus became obvious that the battalion was a prime component of future war and battalions had to fight combined to win. The problem was how to combine branches into battalions and fight effectively. What was the optimum mix of tanks, mounted infantry, artillery, engineers, air defence and other branches? How could they be trained simultaneously and effectively in branch and combined arms skills?

Throughout the Cold War, the Soviets tried different combinations of forces in an effort to create an optimum Combined Arms Battalion, or Battalion Tactical Group in the Russian parlance. It had to be lethal, yet not too large, capable of acting independently for a period of days, and able to fight combined effectively. From the 1960s to the end of the 1980s, the Soviet Motorised Rifle Battalion and Tank Battalion went through several Table of Organisation and Equipment (TO&E) changes to try to improve their combined arms lethality. During the same period, they conducted hundreds of exercises using different mixes of tanks, motorised rifle, air defence, engineers and combat support forces, looking for the optimum solution. Clearly, the Soviets were trying to determine the optimum TO&E structure, training and employment of BTGs.

After the collapse of the USSR, the impetus to develop the BTG was strengthened by Russia’s experience during the Chechen campaigns and related counterterrorism activities. During this period, the 58th Combined Arms Army manoeuvre regiments formed BTGs based on motorised rifle battalions that were reinforced with tanks; artillery; air defence; reconnaissance; engineering; chemical, biological, radiological and nuclear defence; communications; maintenance; and logistics units. These BTGs were 100% equipped and manned, with mostly contract personnel, and were on a six-month readiness cycle until their personnel were rotated out. Many characteristics of today’s BTG can be directly traced to this time.

Battalion Tactical Groups in Today’s Russia

Today, the BTG is a semi-permanent task force found in the manoeuvre (motorised rifle and tank) regiments and brigades of the Russian Ground Forces, Naval Infantry and VDV. BTGs are task-organised motorised rifle or tank battalion-plus-sized combat entities that can perform semi-independent combined arms combat missions. They are capable of conducting deep raids, envelopments and flanking manoeuvres. In the Russian system, the lowest echelon of combined arms command has traditionally been the manoeuvre regiment or brigade. Thus, the Russians do not use terms like ‘Regimental Tactical Group’ when referring to their manoeuvre formations, as these formations are inherently combined arms in nature. The term ‘Battalion Tactical Group’ is a special delineation of function which notes that this formation is combined arms in nature.

By current Russian General Staff directive, each regiment and brigade is supposed to have two designated BTGs. But units in the Southern Military District reportedly have three BTGs per regiment/brigade. In terms of composition, a BTG consists of a motorised rifle battalion or tank battalion with varying combat support attachments. These attachments can vary, as they depend upon the equipment organic to the battalion and the tasks it is likely to be assigned. The most common BTG variant is based on a motorised rifle battalion with an attached tank company, self-propelled howitzer battalion, air defence platoon, engineer squad, and logistic support.

Figure 1: Example of a Battalion Tactical Group (circa 2014–2015)

 

Read more here.

•  

 

 

The Nord Stream pipeline leaks are a disaster — the oil and gas industry has a much bigger mess

 

In this Handout Photo provided by Swedish Coast Guard, the release of gas emanating from a leak on the Nord Stream 2 gas pipeline in the Baltic Sea on September 28th, 2022, in At Sea.

 Photo by Swedish Coast Guard via Getty Images

By JUSTINE CALMA / @justcalma

Oct 1, 2022, 2:04 AM GMT+8|

Share this story

/ 

The amount of methane that routinely leaks from oil and gas infrastructure dwarfs the Nord Stream pipelines’ huge mess

This week, the world watched what’s likely to be the fossil fuel industry’s single largest methane release ever. An astonishing amount of methane is floating up from the now-notorious Nord Stream 1 and 2 pipelines and rising above the surface of the Baltic Sea. It’s a pollution nightmare. It also pales in comparison to the vast amount of methane that oil and gas operations constantly release.

Up to 778 million standard cubic meters of methane gas could spew from the Nord Stream 1 and 2 pipelines in a worst-case scenario, according to the Danish Energy Agency. That’s equivalent to nearly a third of Denmark’s greenhouse gas emissions for the entire year of 2020.

The Nord Stream disaster “is an extraordinarily huge one-time event,” says Andrew Baxter, a chemical engineer turned director of energy transition at the Environmental Defense Fund. “But it’s sort of emblematic of other massive emissions from the oil and gas industry of methane into the atmosphere.”

The Nord Stream disaster “is an extraordinarily huge one-time event”

As big as this event is, runaway gas from the Nord Stream pipelines amounts to a fraction of the methane that routinely escapes from oil and gas fields, pipelines, and other infrastructure. Faulty equipment can leak for weeks. Companies also “vent” gas — releasing it into the air — for well or pipeline maintenance or to keep pressure from building up to dangerous levels in their equipment. The oil and gas industry releases 82.5 million tons of methane emissions a year, by the International Energy Agency’s measure. That’s equivalent to the worst-case scenario for the Nord Stream disaster taking place every two days, Baxter tells The Verge. The US oil and gas industry alone releases methane at the rate of a Nord Stream disaster about every two and a half weeks, climate writer and analyst Ketan Joshi calculated.

To be perfectly clear, what’s happening with the Nord Stream 1 and 2 Gas Pipelines is far from ordinary. “All currently available information indicates that this is the result of deliberate, reckless, and irresponsible acts of sabotage,” NATO said in a press release yesterday. Vladimir Putin has also accused Western governments of sabotaging the pipelines. The pipelines, which run from Russia to Germany, are a physical embodiment of Western Europe’s reliance on gas, much of it coming from Russia. So before fears of sabotage, these pipelines were already a flashpoint for efforts to transition the European Union to clean energy.

Nor is it normal to see nearly half a mile of the surface of the sea roiling with methane. The Danish Armed Forces released mesmerizing video and images of the bubbling disaster in the Baltic this week. And while seawater can typically absorb most of methane from smaller underwater leaks, preventing it from floating up to the air, this isn’t the case with the Nord Stream disaster because of how enormous the leaks are.

“The sea cannot take in that volume,” says Mahmoud Khalifeh, an associate professor at the University of Stavanger who has researched gas leaks from offshore wells. Khalifeh expects more than 90 percent of the gas that escapes from the pipelines to make its way into the atmosphere.

He also points out that, unlike spilled oil that collects in the water, there’s not much that can typically be done to clean up leaking gas. It simply dissipates into the water and air. It’s also dangerous for authorities to send in personnel to deal with the mess. The air quality is too horrendous, and sending in vehicles to clean things up could spark a massive blaze. In Nord Stream’s case, however, Mahmoud thinks fire could mitigate some of the risks. Setting the methane ablaze would convert the plume to carbon dioxide, which can be 80 times less potent than methane as a greenhouse gas. It might also stop the methane from drifting ashore and polluting communities there. Lighting up excess gas, called flaring, is also a strategy oil and gas companies use to minimize methane emissions.

The UN Environment Programme released satellite images yesterday of the methane plume above the Nord Stream leaks. There are growing efforts to document methane leaks from space as an increasing body of research shows that many countries are likely undercounting how much methane is leaking from oil and gas operations.

“This is a special one-off event that’s got everyone’s attention. But the oil and gas industry emits millions of tons of methane every year, and that’s supercharging near-term [global] warming,” Baxter says. “I hope that this brings that into focus for more people, we need to be able to regulate [emissions from these] companies and take this extremely seriously.”

Read more here