The CIA's Secret Mission to Raise a Sunken Soviet Submarine

Get ready for a jaw-dropping adventure as I take you on a thrilling journey into one of the CIA's wildest missions, a mission so mind-blowing it could rival a James Bond film. Brace yourself for Project Azorian, a top-secret operation that involved espionage, engineering genius, and a ballsy underwater heist.

It's 1968, the height of the Cold War. The world is teetering on the edge of nuclear doom, and the USA and Soviet Union are going all out to gain an advantage. Enter the Glomar Explorer, a colossal ship built for one purpose: to recover a sunken Soviet submarine from the depths of the Pacific Ocean.

But before we dive into the thrilling details, let's meet Howard Hughes, the eccentric billionaire and aviation mogul. Hughes wasn't your ordinary tycoon. He had a touch of madness mixed with genius, and the CIA saw an opportunity. They needed a cover story to justify building this massive ship, and who better to provide it than the enigmatic Hughes?

So, the CIA made Hughes an offer he couldn't refuse: build the super-secret ship disguised as a deep-sea mining operation. Hughes, being a fan of secrecy and intrigue, jumped on board. And just like that, the Glomar Explorer was born.

Now, let's talk about the sunken submarine, the K-129. This Soviet beast was armed with nuclear warheads and sank to the ocean floor after a catastrophic failure in March 1968. The Soviets couldn't find it, but the CIA saw the perfect opportunity to strike.

Under the cover of Hughes's "mining operation," the Glomar Explorer set sail for the North Pacific. Picture this: a crew of engineers, scientists, and CIA agents, each bringing their unique skills to this audacious mission. It's like Bernie Mac's crew but with way higher stakes.

But how on earth were they planning to extract a 2,000-tonne submarine from the ocean floor? Here's where the engineering genius comes in. The Glomar Explorer had a massive claw-like device called the Capture Vehicle. This giant contraption would latch onto the sub, hoist it up, and store it in a massive steel moon pool on the ship. It was like a real-life version of the game "Operation," with the fate of the Cold War on the line.

To keep things less suspicious, they named the mission Azorian instead of something obvious like "Operation Soviet Sub Salvage." In July 1974, the Glomar Explorer arrived at the K-129's location, and the daring operation commenced. The crew faced enormous challenges: crushing depths, technical glitches, and the constant fear of discovery by the Soviets.

But they persisted. They reached the ocean floor, latched onto the sub, and celebrated a moment of triumph. Yet disaster struck as the sub started to collapse during the ascent. It was like trying to lift a delicate vase with a mammoth, clumsy crane.

Despite the setbacks, they managed to salvage a section of the submarine, including two nuclear torpedoes and the bodies of six Soviet sailors. These remains were honored with a respectful burial at sea, a remarkable gesture amid the tension of the Cold War.

With their partially salvaged treasure onboard, the Glomar Explorer sailed back to California, holding tight to their secrets. They couldn't let the Soviets know what they discovered, so they concocted an elaborate cover story about searching for something called manganese nodules. The media bought it, and the world remained blissfully unaware of the daring operation that had just unfolded.

It wasn't until 1975 that the truth began to leak out. A journalist named Jack Anderson exposed the mission in the Washington Post. The CIA played coy, refusing to confirm or deny the details. The cat was out of the bag, but the Glomar Explorer had left an indelible mark on history as a shining example of audacity and ingenuity.

Now, who said real-life espionage couldn't be as exciting as the movies?