Humans have been sailing for millennia, yet the eerie world beneath the waves remains a realm for only the bravest. In this top 10 spookiest roundup we explore submarines that have become legends for their ghostly crews, monstrous encounters, and baffling phenomena. From World‑War‑era U‑boats to Cold‑War nuclear vessels, each of these steel hulls carries a tale that will make you think twice before diving deep.
Why These Vessels Earn the Top 10 Spookiest Reputation
These ten underwater machines have earned their place on this list because each one is steeped in tragedy, mystery, or outright the supernatural. Whether it was a commander turning his gun on himself, a phantom officer haunting the decks, or an unidentified object hovering over a periscope, the stories behind them are as chilling as the ocean’s depths themselves.
10 505
On the night of October 24, 1943, the German U‑boat U-505 endured a ferocious assault when British destroyers dropped depth charges. Amid the chaos, the vessel’s commander, Peter Zschech, took a pistol and shot himself in the head right in front of his crew inside the cramped control room.
According to a firsthand account by crewman Hans Goebler, Zschech’s shot did not immediately kill him; he continued to make loud noises, which inadvertently helped the British locate the sub via sonar. Goebler described how two sailors seized a pillow and pressed it over the commander’s mouth, despite the ship’s doctor protesting. The pillow was held firmly until Zschech fell silent, allowing the British to maintain their sonar advantage.
With the captain dead, Zschech’s second‑in‑command assumed control and steered the crew through the remainder of the attack. Everyone survived the onslaught except the commander. The logbook entry for that day simply read Kommandant tot, meaning “Commanding Officer dead.”
9 65
Another German vessel, this time a World‑War‑I U‑boat, earned a reputation for unsettling luck. Before UB-65 even set sail, a torpedo mishap exploded, wounding several crew members and killing the second officer, Lieutenant Richter.
Shortly after departing port, a lookout stationed in the conning tower claimed to see Lieutenant Richter’s apparition standing on deck, as if he had returned to haunt the submarine. Over the following days, more crew members reported sightings of his ghostly figure, prompting the Imperial Navy to dispatch a pastor in an attempt to exorcise the lingering spirit.
The final, eerie twist came when an American submarine encountered UB-65 off the Irish coast. As the Americans prepared to fire, the German boat inexplicably exploded on its own before any shot could be taken. An American officer also reported seeing a silhouette on the deck—a German officer in full overcoat, arms folded, watching the vessel sink.
8 5
Who doesn’t love a good sea‑monster yarn? On April 30, 1918, the German U‑boat UB‑85 surrendered to a British patrol boat after a dramatic series of events. Captain Krech, the commanding officer, claimed that the night before, a massive, strange beast had surged from the sea and latched onto the deck, its enormous weight nearly dragging the submarine under.
According to Krech, the creature possessed huge eyes set in a horn‑like skull. The crew fired sidearms at the beast, eventually injuring it enough for it to release its grip. However, the encounter left the deck so damaged that UB‑85 could no longer dive. In 2016, the wreck was located, reigniting debate over whether a sea monster or something more mundane caused the incident.
Further research uncovered an interview with another crew member suggesting a more prosaic explanation: a heater installed in the officers’ quarters had wiring that ran through a watertight hatch, making it vulnerable to flooding. The “monster” story may simply have been Krech’s dramatic cover‑up for an engineering mishap, though monster enthusiasts still cling to the kraken theory.
7 The H.L. Hunley
Imagine stepping into the year 2000 as a diver tasked with raising the Confederate submarine H.L. Hunley, the first combat sub to sink an enemy warship. The vessel vanished the very day it sank the Union frigate USS Housatonic on February 17, 1864.
When divers finally opened the hull, they were met with a haunting tableau: eight skeletal crew members frozen at their respective stations, each appearing undisturbed by whatever calamity had befallen the sub. The bodies showed no signs of panic or movement, as if they had simply been caught mid‑action.
Scientists later determined that the tragedy stemmed from the explosion of the Hunley’s own spar torpedo, which detonated upon ramming the Housatonic. The blast knocked the crew unconscious, leaving them unable to steer or escape. The submarine settled about 300 meters (1,000 feet) from the wreck of the Housatonic, preserving this eerie scene for over a century.
6 USS Trepang
Submarines aren’t usually the setting for UFO sightings, yet in 1971 a French magazine published photographs that seemed to prove otherwise. Officer John Klika, aboard the USS Trepang, captured images of a cigar‑shaped object while the sub patrolled the remote waters between Iceland and Jan Mayen.
The pictures, later featured in the magazine Top Secret, show a sleek, elongated craft hovering just beneath the surface, clearly visible through the periscope. The encounter occurred during a routine expedition, and the crew reportedly stared in disbelief at the unexpected visitor.
British UFO researcher Nigel Watson noted that similar cigar‑shaped sightings have been reported since the late 19th century, appearing worldwide. While he expressed skepticism about the authenticity of the Trepang photos, the story continues to fuel imaginations of underwater extraterrestrials.
5 Quester I
Ever strolled along Coney Island Creek and felt a chill? Among the rusted hulks there lies a peculiar yellow‑orange conning tower that once housed the experimental submarine Quester I. Its creator, Jerry Bianco, envisioned the craft as a treasure‑retrieval vessel, designed to dive down and salvage valuables from the wreck of the Andrea Doria, which sank off Massachusetts in 1956.
Bianco financed the project in the late 1960s, opting for a bright yellow paint job simply because it was the most affordable option. After four years of labor, the sub was finally lowered into the creek on October 19, 1970. However, a miscommunication led the crane operator to submerge the vessel completely, despite instructions to keep it partially above water.
Because Bianco had only removed ballast from one side to cut costs, the submarine tipped dramatically, listing on its side. Investors lost confidence in its ability to stay afloat, and the vessel never left the creek. To this day, the abandoned Quester I remains lodged in the water, a rust‑colored relic of an unfulfilled dream.
4 219
On October 3, 1986, the Soviet nuclear submarine K‑219 patrolled the Atlantic roughly 1,100 km (700 mi) northeast of Bermuda. An engineer noticed a leak in the torpedo‑room plug and attempted a repair, but water surged in, eventually causing a torpedo casing to split and explode. The blast claimed three crew members and produced a massive flood.
In the aftermath, a brave crewman entered the nuclear compartment, shutting down the reactor to prevent a catastrophic failure, allowing the sub to surface. When the captain opened the hatch, he discovered two long scratch marks running along the hull—marks that did not correspond to any known collision.
Soviet officials initially blamed a nearby American submarine, the USS Augusta, for the damage, though the U.S. Navy denied involvement. In 2010, former captain Nikolai Tushin suggested an alternative culprit: an enigmatic underwater phenomenon dubbed a “Quacker,” named for its peculiar duck‑like quack mixed with a frog’s croak. Such sounds were reported by Cold‑War sonar operators, and Tushin believes the mysterious entity may still linger near the wreck of K‑219.
3 166
While most associate World‑War‑II naval action with the Pacific, the Gulf of Mexico also saw a fierce German U‑boat campaign. One of the seventeen German submarines operating there was U‑166. In 1942 it encountered the American passenger steamer Robert E Lee, whose passengers reported seeing a shark‑like silhouette beneath the water before a torpedo struck, sinking the ship.
Following the attack, the U.S. Navy’s patrol craft PC‑566 dropped a depth charge on the suspected U‑boat, though the crew never confirmed a hit. Coast Guard aircraft also bombed a nearby U‑boat, but the missions were classified, leaving the fate of the German sub unknown at the time.
It wasn’t until 2001 that a petroleum survey located a wreck near the site of the Robert E Lee disaster. Subsequent investigation confirmed the wreck to be U‑166, confirming that the earlier depth‑charge attack had indeed destroyed the submarine. Both the passenger ship and the German sub now rest side‑by‑side on the Gulf floor, a haunting reminder of a war fought close to American shores.
2 The Surcouf
Launched in 1929, the French submarine Surcouf was the largest of its kind, built to rival the increasingly advanced German U‑boats. When Germany invaded France, Allied commanders feared the French fleet might fall into enemy hands, prompting the Surcouf to be ordered to Plymouth, England.
During the transfer, tensions flared between the French crew and their British hosts, culminating in a violent confrontation in which four men lost their lives. Mutual suspicion persisted: French sailors suspected the British of covert collaboration with the Germans, while the British worried the French might be secretly aiding the enemy.
Eventually the submarine was dispatched to the Pacific, stopping in Bermuda for refueling. In February 1942, the Surcouf vanished in the Caribbean off Panama’s coast and was never heard from again. Some speculate a collision with an American merchant ship, others attribute the loss to the infamous Bermuda Triangle. To this day, neither the wreck nor the crew’s fate has been definitively determined.
1 537
During World II, the German navy launched a daring scientific mission to the Arctic Circle: establishing a covert weather station on Labrador’s northern shore. The task fell to U‑537, which was specially outfitted to transport the equipment and set up the remote outpost.
The voyage proved perilous. The submarine struck an iceberg, sustaining severe damage that rendered it unable to submerge. Undeterred, the crew pressed on, installing the weather station and disguising it by assigning a fictitious Canadian name and scattering American cigarette packs to create the illusion of an Allied operation.
On the return leg to occupied France, U‑537 endured three attacks by Canadian aircraft, yet managed to evade destruction each time. The vessel’s story concludes with a brief personal note: “Louise enjoys coffee, dogs, and people‑watching,” a quirky reminder that even in wartime, life’s small pleasures persist.