Ae Marika! An ANZAC Story For All New Zealanders
Ae Marika!
By Hone Harawira
Te Reo Motuhake o Te Tai
Tokerau
19 April 2011
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AN ANZAC STORY
FOR ALL NEW ZEALANDERS
No column next week but I didn't want to bypass ANZAC Day without a mention, even though sometimes I think that sometimes we overdo the whole ANZAC thing, and that perhaps we might all be better off forgetting about the horrors of war, particularly the mindless slaughter of WW I.
But then you come across a note in dispatches, a letter, or a diary entry which reminds you that in war, men's very lives are defined by the immediacy of death, and their world shrinks to one where survival, comradeship and a common yearning for home, assume massive importance.
Here's an ANZAC story I saw that came out of Nelson last year. It has nothing to do with us up here in the far north except that it speaks of New Zealanders just like our grandparents, both Maori and Pakeha, who travelled right across to the other side of the world to fight, and sometimes to die, in a conflict far, far away.
Hopefully it reminds us that when the chips are down, we can rely on one another to make it through the tough times. And for me, it's also a gentle and timely reminder that the Maori language can be a truly wondrous thing, a beacon of hope in the darkness of war, and a consolation in times of great loss ...
Nelson. Last updated 05:00 24/04/2010
Private H E Browne of Wellington Regiment was wounded at Gallipoli and France. He died 10 years later. Private Browne was my father E J Milson's uncle.
From his diary:
"We made ourselves some nice curry with bully beef and onions. Our last good feed before changing our circumstances. In saying `we' I am sometimes referring to the squadron, the regiment, the troops or the section. At present it is the section which is composed of Jack Gutzell as leader, Don McCaskill, myself and Jimmy Prosser.
"Poor Jimmy didn't get to see the light of day. He was killed that night on Table Top. We were taken to the firing trench. The object for the night was pointed out by Lieut Mayo who fell next day on Table Top.
"At 9 o'clock sharp the Mounteds and the Maoris were to charge. Some of the Maoris were to act in conjunction with the Auckland Mounteds in the attack on old No 3 outpost. As the sun set on Friday 6th August they gathered around their native chaplain. A brief service was held in their own tongue. To me it was a historic scene.
"After a few words, the hymn Jesus Lover of My Soul was sung in Maori. The parts blended beautifully. The contingent had 25 tenors and the chaplain in splendid voice sang solo. Is there any language more beautiful as that of our natives when set to music?
"My squadron stood silent listening intently with tears to the eyes. We felt we could go through anything with that beautiful influence behind us.
"The hymn ceased, silence was felt. The Maori and Pakeha heads bowed while native prayers and benediction was pronounced."
Noelyn Blincoe, Tahunanui