28th Maori Battalion: a day to note.
The Battalion was formed in 1939 at the outbreak of World War 2 its beginnings could be traced back to World War 1 and the Maori Pioneer Battalion who had been first told they could not fight 'in a white man's war' but who nevertheless when casualties were high were called in to fight with distinction a Gallipoli where they were noted for not only their raw bravery but their physical prowess. It a time now to reflect on the young soldiers who had left their homes for the first time to travel abroad and one can consider that many of them felt humiliated that they, young warriors, were 'not good enough' to fight for their own Country despite half a century earlier giving the English and domestic forces, both greater in number, logistics, and weaponry a number of humbling defeats.
In 1939, as it had been in the years 1914 through 1918, Maori volunteered mostly along tribal and family lines. Robust young men and often hardly more than boys from the rural heartlands many of whom "exaggerated" their ages in order to be part of the Battalion that was comprised wholly of volunteers. As a child I grew up living near many Battalion veterans, played rugby with their sons, went to school with them, and had many a street fight with and against them as the prosaic of war continued to reverberate in the unsettled lives of the returned soldiers and those of some of their offspring. Living in neighborhoods replete with ex-servicemen and their families no name was more intimately recalled than that of the Maori Battalion and even its great song that was never further away than guitar strings and an upturned beer crate. Of course none my age were able to comprehend the gravity of war and even years in Army Cadets really gave no lasting impression of who and what the Battalion had been or what war had been for them and the other veterans.
It's the names I remember, the sons rather than the fathers, who seemed strangely out of focus, captured in a song and the ever-present impression of bayonet charges and war cries from men since fallen silent, drinking and working hard, still no doubt, trying to piece together what they had lived through and what they had lost to the country's gain.
Names such as Nock, Baker, Edwards, Baker, Rewai, Ruka, Cox, Manahi, Shelford, Moore, Epiha, Ngapera, Nathan, Sheperd, Toko, Manahi, Mathews, and the list goes on filled with traditional names and Anglicised versions that were equally common. Many years later it would seep into my consciousness how little preciousness those names were held by descendants of both The Pioneer and Maori Battalion. In a sense pride was lost by children and grandchildren of the aging soldiers, disrespect was paid, unconsciously it seems now for great warrior names were no more - plundered by the young eager for their own wars. Men of the 28th still marched with pride on Anzac Day, giving an impression of not only pride but a jubilant spirit on a day they could remember mates, foes,s and beautiful Italian women alike. Nowhere was writ bitterness that they may have come home to a land that didn't truly appreciate them, who still saw them, at least partially, as from a marginalised part of an evolving society. Men who shifted to the cities for work but who could not enter a bar for a drink despite having often paid in blood for the privilege.
Slowly it would seem some were beaten down by a strange, unaccepting society where family roots were less strong and alienation was common away from traditional homes, language, and land. Not least part of that could have been the first aftermath of war, yet jubilation and sadness are replaced by a grim panorama of 'real' life where the fruits of victory were not necessarily equality, as economic and social margins that no war could have ever imposed on such great warriors found home. Yet time has already instilled them greatness even before the last Battalion member takes his final breath because they are in the consciousness of the land they fought to protect. No battle took from them their pride through a good few cities of their homeland may have entombed much of their expectation of rights and equality.
So today the survivors bring down their flag in their own chosen time and salute once again uncles and aunts who blessed them with safety in their quests to war, they remember also those lost far afield and since. They know no other Battalion will ever forfeit from them their honours and that no other will truly understand their loss or pride, and that like all the country's soldiers they will never be forgotten even in centuries yet to be reached.
Haera ra to the great ones large and small
haera ra to the feathered cloak that kept you warm
the taiaha that kept you safe.
Farewell also to the dishonour we brought to your name
when we knew not what we had or what we had lost.
Farewell to the cliff of time that can no longer keep us apart
in foreign fields of war, or suburbs where we have at times become unknown to one another.
You took the honour of the people with you, and yes you did fight, fight, fight to the end,
bringing that honour home again, enduring now for all time for those you loved
and who did not always love you in return.
Written on 12/1/12
Update April 25th 2023
Names such as Nock, Baker, Edwards, Baker, Rewai, Ruka, Cox, Manahi, Shelford, Moore, Epiha, Ngapera, Nathan, Sheperd, Toko, Manahi, Mathews, and the list goes on filled with traditional names and Anglicised versions that were equally common. Many years later it would seep into my consciousness how little preciousness those names were held by descendants of both The Pioneer and Maori Battalion. In a sense pride was lost by children and grandchildren of the aging soldiers, disrespect was paid, unconsciously it seems now for great warrior names were no more - plundered by the young eager for their own wars. Men of the 28th still marched with pride on Anzac Day, giving an impression of not only pride but a jubilant spirit on a day they could remember mates, foes,s and beautiful Italian women alike. Nowhere was writ bitterness that they may have come home to a land that didn't truly appreciate them, who still saw them, at least partially, as from a marginalised part of an evolving society. Men who shifted to the cities for work but who could not enter a bar for a drink despite having often paid in blood for the privilege.
Slowly it would seem some were beaten down by a strange, unaccepting society where family roots were less strong and alienation was common away from traditional homes, language, and land. Not least part of that could have been the first aftermath of war, yet jubilation and sadness are replaced by a grim panorama of 'real' life where the fruits of victory were not necessarily equality, as economic and social margins that no war could have ever imposed on such great warriors found home. Yet time has already instilled them greatness even before the last Battalion member takes his final breath because they are in the consciousness of the land they fought to protect. No battle took from them their pride through a good few cities of their homeland may have entombed much of their expectation of rights and equality.
So today the survivors bring down their flag in their own chosen time and salute once again uncles and aunts who blessed them with safety in their quests to war, they remember also those lost far afield and since. They know no other Battalion will ever forfeit from them their honours and that no other will truly understand their loss or pride, and that like all the country's soldiers they will never be forgotten even in centuries yet to be reached.
Haera ra to the great ones large and small
haera ra to the feathered cloak that kept you warm
the taiaha that kept you safe.
Farewell also to the dishonour we brought to your name
when we knew not what we had or what we had lost.
Farewell to the cliff of time that can no longer keep us apart
in foreign fields of war, or suburbs where we have at times become unknown to one another.
You took the honour of the people with you, and yes you did fight, fight, fight to the end,
bringing that honour home again, enduring now for all time for those you loved
and who did not always love you in return.
Written on 12/1/12
Update April 25th 2023
The Renaissance for not only the 28th but all our servicemen and women 11 years after the above post has not only begun but thrived in a way our servicemen and women might never have imagined. We do not forget.
No comments:
Post a Comment