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| HMS Plymouth: Then & Now
HMS Plymouth was built in Plymouth, launched by Nancy, Viscountess Astor in Plymouth, and her home port was Plymouth. During her near three decade career in the Royal Navy, she is most remembered for her service in the Falkland Islands conflict in 1982. HMS Plymouth was one of the first of the British Fleet to arrive in the Islands following the Argentinian invasion and took part, alongside HMS Antrim, Brilliant and Endurance, in the recapture of South Georgia. Despite being badly damaged in an Argentine attack in June 1982, the eventual surrender of the Argentinian forces in South Georgia was signed in her ward room.
HMS Plymouth was eventually decommissioned out of the Royal Navy in 1988, and thanks to a campaign by a group of volunteers led by former Plymouth Devonport MP, Dr David Owen (now Baron Owen of Plymouth), she was preserved for the nation and went on display in, yep, you've guessed it - Plymouth. After a short spell on the Clyde in Glasgow, she then found a permanent home in Birkenhead's Great Float with the Warship Preservation Trust (WPT). Unfortunately, financial difficulties forced the WPT into liquidation in 2006. Despite various attempts to save the ship over the last few years, including an attempt to bring her home to Plymouth where Associated British Ports had offered a berth (offer since withdrawn) at Millbay Docks, she remains to this day abandoned and neglected in Birkenhead, where an uncertain future awaits - her likely final destination being a foreign scrapyard.
Now, I don't know how strong a connection to Plymouth, or indeed to one of the most significant episodes of recent British history needs to be before it becomes imperative that it is not lost to the city of Plymouth, or the nation, but it appears all of the above is not enough - certainly not for Plymouth anyway. Although that didn't stop Plymouth City Council (PCC) requesting artefacts from the soon to be dismantled ship. The irony of the request seemed to be lost on PCC and the request was met with much derision by those who have fought and continue to fight to save her. Quite right too. Why should PCC have artefacts from a ship that they have consistently failed to help save?
As of March 2013, those artefacts, including panelling and benches from the ship's chapel are now at Fort Perch Rock in New Brighton, Merseyside while others, such as the ship's bell, have been transferred to the Royal Naval Museum in Portsmouth.
However, that is not the end of the story; there has been some controversy over who actually owns HMS Plymouth and therefore holds the rights to sell her. She appears to be in some sort of limbo, slowly rusting away and no doubt accumulating ever larger mooring fees. All channels must be explored; even the wife of our Prime Minister, Samantha Cameron has a link, since her step-father is the present Viscount Astor and grandson of Nancy. Tenuous -maybe, but if there is even the slightest chance that support can be sought to save the ship, then, surely, it must be done.
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Perhaps PCC have a final opportunity to do the right thing?
I won't be holding my breath, though.
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"Where the bombs fell" Seven nights in late March and late April 1941 were among the worst Plymouth has ever seen . In recent nights I tried to give an "as live" account of the events of March 20th and 21st 1941 under the hash-tag #PlymBlitzLive via @PlymouthHistor1 on Twitter. It's not easy trying to convey the stories of damage, destruction and loss of life that was wrought on the city in 140 characters or less, and even less so to do justice to the bravery and heartbreak of the people who lived, and died, during the Luftwaffe attacks. I do feel that it is still a worthwhile exercise, and something that I would like to continue for the April 1941 raids. There are a wealth of published research resources available which record the Plymouth Blitz, and all are worth reading. In particular I would recommend Gerald Wasley's "Blitz" and it's big brother "Plymouth: A Shattered City", and Chris Robinson's revised edition of H.
‘Ode to HMS Plymouth..’
ReplyDelete(A Warrior Maid)
Half cent’ry gone in Devonport, they forged and laid her keel,
a spine befit a warrior maid in hissing, flame spat steel;
All ribbed about and armoured through to test the shipwright’s art,
therein to beat, loud, strong and true, her mighty iron heart;
Each plate and rivet, weld and seam to deadly purpose sworn,
and thus in fire and blood and iron was frigate ‘Plymouth’ born.
Four hundred long and forty wide, drawn sixteen in her draught,
three thousand tons of vengeful steel to laud the warsmith’s craft;
Set cannon fore and mortar aft to give that vengeance tongue,
that shrill her fearsome battle hymn in smoke and flame be sung;
For shipped she crew near thirteen score, stout hearted tars and true,
to fill her throat with fire and brass to pound her dread tattoo.
They decked her in her battle dress; In frocks of storm sky grey,
and with her smoke black locks atrail, they loosed her seek her prey;
Swift grey assassin sleek and bold, her heart as black as sin,
each iron sinew strained and taut beneath that steel strung skin;
To prowl each ocean, sea and bay for two decades and more,
a restless wraith ‘mongst salt sea mists; Asteer some foreign shore.
Til dark upon, and far away, did fall a loutish heel,
an alien foe with dark intent; Our sovereign soil to steal;
At night ashore a Falkland isle beneath a foreign flag,
to call their own within all sight of that foul limpen rag;
All bold they hoist it high and proud on Stanley’s civic mast,
to dare Britannia raise her shield and south her trident cast.
And thus did Plymouth bare her teeth and southward turn her face,
her iron heart ahammer as she forced its pulse to race;
Her turbines’ wail a wolven howl upon the coal black night,
as cruel as any grey maned beast apace a prey in flight;
All flare her jet black nostrils as they set her breath aflame,
a snarling, slav’ring hound of war; On vengeance bent - she came.
To touch with death South Georgia’s Isle she sou’ sou’ eastward skewed,
there to ashore, with fierce intent, Britannia’s lethal brood;
Proud hen aguard her deadly chicks she brought them all abeach,
til safe into the gath’ring gloom she saw them vanish each;
Then homaged she the martial gods and tarried each to bless,
‘fore turning from their deadly work; Her own dread suit to press.
Swift to San Carlos Water then as vanguard brave she came,
Britannia’s warrior daughter come; Her birthright to reclaim;
Brave sentinel, full square she stood, to flout the birds of war,
and ‘llow her sisters’ deadly broods be safely put ashore;
Though hawk on hawk, their talons keen, tore at her beak and claw,
no quarter gave nor quarter sought although they raked her raw.
Though grave her wounds, and dire their needs, her oaken hearted crew,
stood each their station, steadfast all, good yeoman stock and true;
And to the beat of shot and shell; Each bomb that set her reel,
sang loud each throat her battle hymn in notes of fire and steel;
Til bloodied red in tooth and claw; And rent and torn and spent,
her duty done and task complete she ‘llowed herself relent.
Twas then she saw her finest hour: In Stanley harbour’s lea,
first warship in, proud ensign high, for all her foes to see;
Til last in Plymouth’s ward room did the vanquished stoop to sign,
as the garrison surrender in South Georgia was resign;
‘Fore battered, bruised and sorely scarred she nor’ward rode the foam,
the lochs to tend her grievous wounds: Then Devonport... And home.
And now her turn, so boldly served, has brought her to her rest,
to take her place in history ‘mongst bravest and the best;
But not for her the cutter’s torch, nor yet the gunner’s mark,
not while there breathes a naval salt or Janner worth the hark;
To bring her home to Guzz again; To ‘gainst its foreshore lie,
and rest her keel a final time beneath a Plymouth sky...
© Sullivan the Poet 2009