TRENTHAM.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LIX, Issue 18173, 19 August 1922, Page 1 (Supplement)

TRENTHAM.

. -4» — ' ■ THREE PICTURES.

BY ALF. R. W. KREBS.

Early in .October, 1914, the sullen, grey troopship lay huddled close to the wharf at Wellington, while those in command waited for. permission to face the known and war-brought unknown dangers, of the open sea. Several hundred men on board, now units of a great, far-flung army, were ordered out by platoons or companies to practise musketry at Trentham rifle range. The first of these pictures is concerned with the visit of one of those platoons to the then desolate region which was destined to become of such national importance. At the time of thiit visit, if one may use a paradox, Trentham was not Trentham. As we detrained and formed up in a misty, drizzling rain which had set in suddenly, the scene that presented itself was one of large alternating patches of tussock, tea-tree end otTTer shrub, with large pools of rain water freely interspersed, and two or three houses scattered at long intervals. We splashed over the soggy ground, " groused" at the wet and slippery mounds of the range, unsttntingly expressed our opinion of the evil-smelling, uncomfortable butts, duly fired the prescribed number of practices, and marched back to the train with no regret 3 for the fact that Trentham was behind us, but, if repetition may oe pardoned, Trentham was not Trentham in October, 1914. Three Years' Changes. The real Trentham came into being during the period 1914 to 1917. Tussock and tea-Tree and swamp yielded place to the orderly lines of a first-class military camp—one of the cleanest and bestequipped in the world. As a civilian, in 1917, I made a second pilgrimage to Trentham. A magnificent body of soldiers, welldisoiplined, limber and eager, marching at the "slope," swings out of the gateway and down the dusty road. There is a rhythm and pulsing energy about the marching ■ battalion that makes one's blood run' freer, and the head go higher. Within the great camp itself is a scene of indescribable bustle, but a closer inspection discloses that everything is being carried out methodically and to order. Here a batch of " raw ones "' is struggling with the difficulties of right and left turn; over there a party works up . to a pitch of horrible ferocity in bayonet fighting; hero half a hundred panting fellows fight their way over the obstacle course, while another section takes its lesson in the weird serpentine block of trench works—fondly referred to as " The Maze." From far back at the foot of the hills comes the sound of rifle firing, and, by special permission, wo are permitted to go out and watch the scene. The old, uncomfortable butts of 1914 have been discarded, and in their place three *ets of splendid marking areas, replete with up-to-date necessities, are being vised. There aro many men at musketry, and as we return to the camp (the town that has so magically come into being)* the startling rat-a-tat of the " mad minute," the soldier's favourite practice, crashes out on the clear air. .. - ! Men everywhere— big men; little men, good men, bad men, are dotted in groups over the. various parade grounds- * They have gathered in their thousands from every corner of the country, and, as rapidly as efficient instructors can do it, they are being turned into soldiers. What a. scene of beauty is the camp itself, with its numerous ranks of wellbuilt huts, its institutions, its trim and dainty flower h&IR, its stone-bordered streets, its glittering memorial tablets, ,so fresh and clean, and its air of tremendous organised activity. Truly this was the real Trentham !»■'■/ Trentham in 1922. Yesterday I made a third pilgrimage to TrenthamNo marching battalion swings out of the gateway this time. Instead came a couple of tender-hearted V.A.D. nurses, each pushing a wheeled couch on which reclined a soldier battle-injured beyond recovery:—specimens of War's wastage. We pass on- unhalted down the on.ee busy main street, of the'camp: no military policeman, no vigilant guard, bares the way. The once beautiful little gardens are neglected.." and weed-cholted; the handsome granite stabs with their whining. . memorials — Anaac, *.-■ Maine, tiomme, Egypt, Salonika—are dirty and uncared for. -Wei;- ptss down the silent streets, and our mood responds to the mood of the place, for jpvet.this.vast gathering ground of has fallen the tragedy of a greafc - silence; yet, so vividly do its associations linger, Cliaf, one expect*' to be challenged by some watchful sentry at nearly every- street corner. No merry songs ring out from the huts or the institutions, and gone are the sharp voices of command. Parked at the sides of various roads are hundreds of gun. • limbers with rusted wheels, and neglected aspect. Cookhouses, meesrooms, parade grounds, are empty and silent, or, if: one's; fancy fa given play, become peopled only with the ghosts of other days The obstacle course has been partly demolished, the " huns" of the bayonet fighters are rotting on the ground, or swing awry from rusted hooks; the "maze" is breaking in, and is partly filled with rubbish, A few grazing sheep are the only tenants of the tensive rifle range. High in the east the blue mountains, snow-mantled and cold, seem To stand guard over Che s.Tent, deserted camp. One biock alone is occupied—that of the hospital, now under the Jurisdiction of tho Health Department. Such is Trentham in 1922. The Spirit of Trentham. It will be a thousand pities if this national spot—this great loom where the threads of men's lives were woven into the fabric of a splendid armyi-is allowed <. to go, unmarked, into complete decay. Its very nomenclature is much more than merely a string of names, and the word Irentham" embraces tho whole- Possibly the exigencies of natioual economy or the need for disarmament, will render its maintenance unnecessary and unwise; and if our generation is to see the end of necessity for such places, the dismantling of this army asset wisl be a happy event; yet..." Trentham will always remain. Because of this, cculd ..ot some interested people find it graceful and convenient (provided permission could be obtained) to gather together the various memorial tablets and use them to erect some kind of camp memorial, possibly a cairn at the site of tae.gateway. through which so many of New Zealand's sons inarched to battle and to death? Scattered as they are now about the camp, these handsome tablets will soon become so disfigured and dirty as to be unworthy of U9e. They deserve a better fate, an d this plea for the erection of a monument is not that the militaristic memory of the place shoula he memorialised, but that long after the camp has disappeared, there may be something concrete, left that will breathe / the legacy of TTehtfiam to other pebpTe ' and other times. This legacy is the j national spirit. 1 I Would go • further and say that Trentham embodies the Imperial spirit, for iia its conception and its object it waa truly Imperial. . i -• . '■ ; ; ~■■