Silent Strength: Dan Blanchard Interviews John P. Holland at the Submarine Force Museum
Setting: A quiet corner of the Submarine Force Museum, next to a model of the USS Holland VI. The walls are lined with blueprints and old brass instruments. The USS Nautilus looms silently nearby through the viewing window.
Dan Blanchard: Mr. Holland—first off, what an honor. You’re standing here in Groton, Connecticut—home of the nuclear submarine force, decades after your Holland VI changed everything. How does it feel?
John P. Holland: (Chuckles softly) It’s like waking up inside a dream… or rather, a prophecy fulfilled. When I was testing my first models in New Jersey and later here in Connecticut, people thought I was eccentric, or worse. To see this? The Nautilus? It’s staggering. I can hardly believe these marvels were born from the small spark I carried.
Dan: You were ahead of your time. What drove you to push boundaries—designing vessels to travel beneath the sea when no one believed it was possible?
Holland: Necessity… and curiosity. I was a schoolteacher from Ireland with a head full of ideas and a heart full of rebellion. I believed navies needed a stealth advantage—small crafts that could travel unseen, strike quickly, and disappear. I believed in underdogs. And I believed technology could level the playing field.
Dan: Your Holland VI eventually became the first commissioned U.S. Navy submarine. What was the biggest challenge in getting it there?
Holland: Convincing people it could be done. I didn’t have government support in the beginning. My early tests were on the rivers here in Connecticut, with only a few curious onlookers and the occasional funding from private supporters. But the hardest part was staying committed through failures. Each sunken model or faulty ballast tank tested my resolve—but I kept going.
Dan: That persistence rings true today. Groton is now the Submarine Capital of the World. How do you feel seeing your early vision become part of such a massive legacy?
Holland: It humbles me. The USS Nautilus, the Virginia-class submarines—they’re not just machines. They are testaments to discipline, innovation, and quiet courage. I see generations of silent warriors—the “Silent Service”—and I know I played a small part in that.
Dan: You did more than that. You planted the seed. Our state, our nation—owes much to your spark. And speaking of leadership—today we teach young people that true strength doesn’t always make noise. What’s your take on that?
Holland: A submarine doesn’t announce itself. Nor does a true leader. Leadership isn’t about shouting orders—it’s about seeing clearly in murky water, staying calm under pressure, and trusting your crew with your life. If I’ve learned anything from my time under the surface—it’s that silence can be the most powerful form of strength.
Dan: That’s beautifully said. I always tell students and educators alike that the best leaders often lead when no one is watching—and many of them never seek the spotlight. But they change history all the same.
Holland: Aye… just as Connecticut has. From Bushnell’s Turtle to Electric Boat’s nuclear marvels… you’ve led from the shadows. Quiet. Strategic. Unstoppable.
Dan: Last question, Mr. Holland. If you had the chance to speak to a young leader today—maybe a student visiting this museum—what advice would you give?
Holland: I’d say: “Don’t wait for approval to follow your vision. Build what only you can imagine. Fail, if you must—but don’t abandon your mission. Even the deepest oceans yield to persistence.”
Dan: That’s powerful. Thank you, Mr. Holland—not just for the submarines, but for reminding us that the future often begins with a quiet idea and a determined heart.
Holland: And thank you, Dan—for keeping the story alive. Every child who walks through this museum deserves to know what’s possible… even beneath the surface.
