The Hammock

Author

A.N. Other and NHSA Webmaster

Subjects

History - general, Naval technology

Tags

Hammock

RAN Ships

None noted.

Publication

June 1998 edition of the Naval Historical Review (all rights reserved)

The issue hammock, the beloved pusser sack – one of man’s most endearing inventions – has vanished, alas, from Navy messdecks and establishments. It has been replaced by the impersonal between-deck bunk.

Yes, the sack has gone, but it is certainly not forgotten. Those of us who have experienced the pleasures of the snug, canvas cocoon, have many a warm memory to share and treasure. To those who sailed the stormy seas or served ashore in Navy bases during the war years, the humble sack was perhaps the sailor’s most important possession. It was much more than merely a sleeping contraption – it was extra storage space, and a great hiding spot for a bottle of the best or a box of Mum’s cookies. It was a clothes’ press, a reading-room, sometimes a life saver, or a patch to mend a damaged hull. Even his winding sheet. Above all, his hammock was his refuge. In the confining, constant welter of the crowded messdeck, it offered an island of privacy, in a press of togetherness. Slung high above the confusion, the occupant, secure in its warm embrace, was magically transported far from the maddening (sic) crowd below.

The sailor’s introduction to his hammock was generally an innocuous affair – it was issued along with jumpers, singlets, bell-bottoms, cap, blankets and sundry other paraphernalia. It was just one more item to lug back to the new sailor’s sleeping quarters.

Here, after new uniforms were donned, extra gear stowed away, the vast wide expanse of canvas was folded lengthwise. To this was added the thin bed and two white issue bed blankets. Under the careful supervision of an old hand, the young sailor would go to work turning it from inanimate canvas to his best friend. First came the nettles and lanyards for each end. Then, the virgin hammock was slung at waist level. The mattress carefully put in place, followed by the blankets. It was lashed up neatly and tucked in.

All that remained to consummate the affair was a night together. On that first night – the frustrations in slinging at just the right height and tension; the awkwardness of trying to swing into it gracefully. Then, once inside, the beast seemed to want to smother you or turn turtle. The blankets threatened to fall out, or ball up. After many a furtive check to see if the knots were holding, the new matelot fell asleep until the morning, “wakey wakey – rise and shine”, echoed through the messdeck.

It was then that morning after the night before, the sailor was committed to his hammock. Over the months he would fit it with a sturdy, wooden clews stretcher, liberate a pillow for his head and learn how to press his trousers between the mattress and the canvas. He would customize it, make it his own, give it a special personality.

Yes . . The sailor and his hammock . . . a love story that deserves to be told.

Anon