The Dutch armed forces rarely react positively to surprise press visits so it was probably unwise to turn up at the HRMS Walrus unannounced. But having spent the past few days onboard a variety of historical tall ships at the SAIL nautical event in Amsterdam, what I really wanted was to see the inside of a submarine. Fortunately, feminine charm goes a long way with men in uniform…

Not all the boats at SAIL 2010 are the kind that are familiar from history books – the Dutch Navy also uses the event for recruitment purposes, showing the public its impressive fleet of frigates in the hope of encouraging youngsters to sign up. But it’s down in the belly of the Walrus submarine that you really get a taste of life at – or under – sea.

The vessel measures 15 metres in height, and it’s an exercise in agility to get down the narrow ladders in one piece. Women aren’t allowed to work on Dutch submarines – the government’s decided they’re ill equipped for the fairer sex, and having seen the showers I tend to agree. There’s little room for privacy in the sleeping quarters, where bunks are stacked four-high, and when they’re on missions the officers have little or no contact with home. The Walrus only recently had internet installed onboard, but as one Marine tells us: “It’s not ideal if you’re addicted to checking your Facebook account.”

In the control room we see banks of computers and technical equipment and I note with amusement there isn’t just one – but hundreds – of big red buttons. Resisting the temptation to start flicking switches at random, I attempt (and fail) to understand the complicated radar system with sound waves showing the boats floating past outside. There are gas masks in case of fires, “which aren’t that rare”, but unfortunately, “not enough for everyone onboard”.

I wonder whether it’s scary living in this kind of claustrophobic environment? (We’ve all heard of the Kursk submarine disaster.) The crew of the Walrus seem unfazed by any of it, but the thrill of the lifestyle also seems to have worn off for some of them. It’s just a job, like any other. A sign that reads “this is a no whining zone” seems to sum up the attitude nicely.

The tour takes us through engine rooms bursting with pipes and huge metal contraptions which, I later learn, are the torpedoes it’s hoped will never be used. Most of the Walrus’ work involves covert surveillance and we’re shown the radio antenna on the top through which messages are received.

Encouraged by the access-all-areas nature of our impromptu tour I venture a final question about where the Dutch navy’s other three submarines are due to be deployed, and am surprised to be told about a planned anti-piracy mission in Somalia’s Gulf of Aden.

Then, just when I think I’m onto some sensitive secret information, our guide comes out with a more familiar answer: “I’m afraid I can’t tell you where the fourth boat is going. That’s classified.” 

Marijke Peters is blogging every day of SAIL 2010