In June 1974, an ordinary office burglary in Los Angeles accidentally blew the lid off one of the CIA’s most outrageous Cold War schemes. Thieves broke into the Summa Corporation, owned by billionaire Howard Hughes, and stumbled upon files that hinted at a massive covert operation involving a ship called the Glomar Explorer. The story that unraveled after that was nothing short of incredible: the CIA had been quietly working to recover a sunken Soviet submarine from the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.
This old sub was loaded with nuclear weapons, cryptographic equipment, and secrets that the U.S. was desperate to get its hands on. What followed was a mix of high-tech engineering, Cold War intrigue, and a cover story so wild it almost felt believable.
The whole saga started back in February 1968, when a Soviet submarine named K-129 left its base in Kamchatka on what was supposed to be a regular patrol. This sub, a Golf-II class boat, was armed to the teeth with three nuclear missiles and a few nuclear torpedoes. For weeks, everything seemed normal. Then, out of nowhere, it vanished.
The Soviet Navy freaked out. They launched a massive search, scouring the Pacific, but they came up empty. To the rest of the world, the K-129 had just disappeared into thin air—or, rather, the deep ocean.
What the Soviets didn’t know was that the U.S. had caught a break. Thanks to a super-secret underwater surveillance system called SOSUS, the Navy picked up strange sounds of what seemed like a submarine imploding. Analysts pinpointed the spot: somewhere in the middle of the Pacific, about three miles underwater. That’s deeper than Mount Everest is tall, but the U.S. wasn’t about to let that stop them.
Finding the wreck was one thing, but recovering it? That was next-level crazy. The U.S. Navy sent out the USS Halibut, a submarine tricked out with underwater cameras and sonar gear, to take a closer look. What they found was jaw-dropping: the K-129 was broken into two main pieces, but the forward section was surprisingly intact.
Why was this such a big deal? Because that section probably contained everything the U.S. wanted—nuclear missiles, Soviet codebooks, and cryptographic equipment. It was a potential goldmine of intelligence, and the CIA was determined to bring it up.
Salvaging a 2,000-ton submarine from 16,000 feet below the ocean’s surface was science fiction in the 1960s. Nobody had done anything like it before, but the CIA wasn’t interested in hearing “impossible.” They teamed up with top engineers and came up with a plan so ambitious it sounded like something out of a James Bond movie.
The key to pulling this off was stealth. The Soviets couldn’t find out that the U.S. was messing with their sub. So, the CIA came up with a cover story: they’d build a giant ship and claim it was for deep-sea mining. And who better to sell this wild idea than Howard Hughes, the eccentric billionaire known for his crazy ideas and secretive ways?
The Hughes Glomar Explorer was unlike anything the world had ever seen. This massive ship, built specifically for the mission, was designed to lift a chunk of the ocean floor along with anything sitting on it. At the heart of the ship was a “moon pool,” a hidden underwater chamber where the CIA could work without prying eyes.
But the real star of the show was the Capture Vehicle—a giant claw-like contraption designed to grab onto the submarine and haul it up piece by piece. On the surface, the ship looked like it was ready to mine manganese nodules (those weird rocks that form on the ocean floor). In reality, it was a state-of-the-art spy machine.
By July 1974, the Glomar Explorer was in position over the wreck site, and the mission was underway. Soviet ships occasionally wandered nearby, but the CIA stuck to its “we’re just mining” story, and nobody seemed to question it too much.
The claw descended into the abyss, grabbing onto the forward section of the K-129. For days, the crew worked to slowly lift the massive wreck to the surface. Everything was going smoothly until disaster struck. As the sub neared the surface, it started to break apart. Most of it slipped out of the claw’s grip and sank back to the ocean floor.
The mission wasn’t a total loss, though. The team managed to recover part of the forward section, which included some torpedo bays and—according to rumors—a few sensitive items the CIA never fully disclosed. They also found the remains of six Soviet sailors, who were later buried at sea with military honors.
The CIA had planned to keep the whole thing hush-hush forever, but that burglary back in Los Angeles threw a wrench into their plans. In early 1975, the story leaked to the Los Angeles Times, and suddenly everyone wanted to know why the U.S. was building giant mining ships. The Soviets weren’t amused, and the CIA had to deal with a media circus.
When reporters pushed for details, the CIA gave its now-famous response: “We can neither confirm nor deny the existence of the operation.” That phrase has since become a classic example of government doublespeak.
To this day, much of what the CIA recovered remains classified. Some say they got valuable intelligence from the wreck, while others believe the operation was more of a technical showcase than an intelligence windfall. Either way, it was an engineering marvel—and a costly one. The mission reportedly cost $800 million (around $4.9 billion today), making it one of the most expensive spy operations ever.
After its spy days, the Glomar Explorer had a weird second act as a commercial drilling ship. It eventually retired, and in 2015, it was scrapped in China. Project Azorian wasn’t just a spy mission; it was a testament to the lengths the U.S. was willing to go to outwit the Soviets. Even now, the operation remains shrouded in mystery.
But one thing’s for sure: when it comes to Cold War stories, this one is in a league of its own.