- Author
- Letter Writer
- Subjects
- Ship histories and stories, History - Between the wars, Letter to the Editor
- Tags
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- RAN Ships
- None noted.
- Publication
- June 2024 edition of the Naval Historical Review (all rights reserved)
I have just received my ever welcome and informative copy of the Review.
The article by Graeme Lunn, detailing HMS Hood’s cruise to Australia, reminded me of my father’s visit to the ship, whilst she was in Sydney over Easter in 1924. He took several photographs on board and of other units of the Fleet moored nearby.
He collected four newspaper articles relating to the Fleet’s visit and one of these, now 100 years old, may be of special interest to our female members, as I believe it appeared in the Ladies Section of the Sydney Morning Herald newspaper, when a reporter, presumably an invited guest, attended a church service aboard Hood, and penned her article A Woman’s Impressions. It is very descriptive and even Hood’s steam picket boat gets a mention!
Regards
Leyland Wilkinson, Grafton NSW 14 March 2024
Here is a copy of the SMH article dated 21 April 1924
Palm Sunday, HMS Hood
A Woman’s Impressions
Swiftly the picket-boat, with the burnished brass funnel, shoots through the sunlit waters towards the flagship, until at last it glides alongside the companionway. Unaccustomed feminine feet stumble up the steep angle of the latter, and a moment later the passengers are standing upon the Hood’s deck. Passing through lines of men drawn up in companies (for the rite known in naval parlance as Divisions is in progress), the privileged little party is ushered into the Commander’s spacious cabin – more like an office than a cabin, really-there to wait until service-time. For by courtesy of the Captain, seven ‘land-lubbers’ – three of them of the gentle sex – are being permitted to join in the morning service of the ship’s company. Presently a bell begins to ring, and we are conducted to the quarterdeck, where a small temporary altar, complete in its furnishings, has been placed facing the sailors, who are seated on long benches, supported on upturned buckets. At right angles are lines of chairs, in which the officers are seated: just in front of them are seats for the intruders of the party. In front again are three more chairs; as we look at them three white-clad figures emerge from the adjacent hatchway, and the Admiral, the Captain, and the Flag-Lieutenant pass in front and take up their places in them.
On the opposite side of the deck are the petty officers and marines, whilst a splendid little string orchestra, recruited entirely from the latter useful arm of service, is in readiness to provide music. Now a surpliced figure appears, and steps to the lectern facing the ship’s company. ‘Hymn 98.’ The words ring out sharply in the Padre’s clear voice, the band strikes up the tune, and the service begins. It is the old Palm Sunday hymn, and how lustily those deep bass voices roll out the familiar refrain, All Glory, Laud, and Honour, to Thee, Redeemer King. The sound is flung across to the pleasure steamers and launches that are cruising round the Hood: one unmannerly motor launch tries to drown the music with her hideous puffing, but for the most part the craft glide quietly past, their occupants alive to the fact that Divine Service is in progress. The service is short; so is the simple, yet forcible little address the chaplain gives. He speaks as if he knows-and loves-his congregation, and there is a tender inflection in his voice as he pronounces the Benediction from the little altar. A moment’s silence; then the band strikes up the National Anthem, and with every member of that congregation, from the Admiral to the ship’s boy, standing at ‘attention,’ the words ring out with a pregnant meaning of their own in this fighting ship of His Majesty’s Navy, ‘Send him victorious!’ – and we glance up at the great blue-grey guns, stretching almost the whole length of the after-deck. Will they ever belch forth death to the King’s and England’s enemies, and so help to ‘Send him victorious?’ God save the King’– there is a reverent uttering of the words that is nearly always lacking in a citizen gathering. But here the sailors of the King are honouring their Sailor-King- and every word of the old anthem rings true.
The chaplain disappears; the service is over. But for one or two of us there is another wonderful experience to follow, for a quiet little service for the few who specially desire it, is to be held in the beautifully-appointed little Chapel, below-deck. Here one officer, a few petty officers, sailors and marines, kneel to receive the Sacrament, and with them are two of the visitors, who will never forget those still moments in the little chapel within the steel-blue walls of the ship. The men aboard the Hood are very proud of this place – as indeed they well may be, for it is furnished with a beauty and a completeness lacking in many a large and important church ashore. It emphasises a side of the sailor’s character that is very often forgotten, perhaps unrealised altogether by the unthinking world outside. We pass out again into the passageway between the steel walls, finally to the deck, and the companionway, at the foot of which our launch puffs impatiently. The words of the hymn are still ringing in our ears, and may we not really believe that in the naval creed of Honour, and Duty, and Service, so completely manifested and lived, the officers and crew of Britain’s mightiest battle-cruiser are proclaiming in silent witness ‘All glory laud, and honour, to Thee, Redeemer, King.’
Reported by Constance Campbell in the Women’s Column – Sydney Morning Herald Monday 21 April 1924.