Fury and spectacle of ‘Tattoo '80'

Press, 18 February 1980, Page 6

Fury and spectacle of ‘Tattoo '80'

By

STAN DARLING

For some, Saturday’s “Tattoo *80” started in Cathedral Square. Small girls with tartan mini-skirts, and comments about what might happen at Queen Elizabeth II Park, were •features of. the abnormally crowded North Beach bus stopf;> . , • “I hope the wind’s right,” said a boy,’ “otherwise the skydiving won’t; be worth while.”-'- '.v . In the end, the skydiving did not happen. The wind' was too. strong at ground level, and much too strong at 1500 metres. - ‘ The Park was a big target for parachutists, the announcer said, but none too big if you were to try to hit it while being blown off course. So part of the spectacle was missing, along with the helicopters. The. South, Island’s first mock' Army battle for public display was supposed to have helicopters. The announcer had more bad news. Because of the

many mountain rescues the Royal New Zealand Air Force has had this summer, the choppers would stay grounded. They could not afford the fuel. Aside from that, the session of simulated violence — plus far from simulated noise — was all the battle lover could have asked. The enemy set themselves up first, in a machine-gun nest, and they had what looked like a political commisar with them. It might have been an American general, the announcer said, considering all those cameras hanging all over him. Then on came the Good Guys, after a slight delay in the proceedings because a sergeant and corporal had gone temporarily absent without leave. They advanced quietly through, the open, ready for “all the noise and tactics of the real thing.” ’ Too much fur some babies, who wailed through it, the noise was great stuff for everyone else. Smoke bombs — blue, green, purple, red — exploded

amidst the flash and fury. “If you can’t see them, this is like a normal battle,” the announcer said, as smoke poured through the Garrison Band and into the stands. Smoke ..filled the place as the battle clattered on, until the enemy was routed somewhere down there in the fog As the smoke drifted off, there were all the Good Guys, all in a line. They had “assessed the situation,” opened up with all they had, and now had “consolidated” their position. ; The battle over, kids scattered on to the grass to pick up spent blank shells. They scooted as the next band appeared through the castle gates. - ■ Bands are the core of any tattoo, and there.were plenty of them. At the start, there was even an odd stereo for those in the back stands, with the Garrison Band swinging out “In The Mood” on the field, and pipers practising outside. The first pipers, the Metropolitan Band, tossed long shadows as they came

on, almost as long as the park’s familiar poplar shadows. Coming up at sunset was a vintage car pageant, a modern version of circling the waggons. They came down the grass track where greyhounds sometimes run, and after a while the announcer made it plain he would appreciate more speed in the procession. “Move along a bit quicker, please ... 10 to 14 miles an hour would be all right . . .” It was better at the end, with the cars in a final crawl-past, tooting like geese with head colds as the crowd clapped.. Things were livelier when the , brightly coloured national dancers trooped in for some jigging and flinging. They were too far away without binoculars, but fine. Then came the show’s highlight, the police dogs and Christchurch Police 8and...... Some dogs missed a few paces, seemingly on purpose, but not many. They dropped off in succession . and did

precision about-faces with the best of them. On the dog obstacle course —. a circle of fire, hurdles, long jump, and fence two metres high — a few obstacles were skirted. Some struggled to get over the high fence, but all made it, one with a boost up. A dog called John made it seem like a breeze, doing it both ways over everything. One dog even ran straight for a man firing loud blanks, with flame, from a pistol. Also, the dogs herded the band into formation at the end, in a routine that looked like slapstick comedy but was pure discipline. So there it was, “Tattoo ’80,” with even more Scottish dancing and marching bands — that old favourite, the Army Band — to come. Crosswinds brought on the clouds and chill, yet hardly anyone left early. Next time, fuel or not, send in the helicopters. Have them come in lbw’ from the setting sun, blaring bagpipe music over loudspeakers. They say it scares the daylights out of the enemy.