THE LAST WAR IS WON AND DONE

NZ Truth, Issue 1030, 22 August 1925, Page 9

THE LAST WAR IS WON AND DONE

DON'T BICKER, BUT PULL TOGETHER FOR THE WHITE IDEA IN OCEANIA "She's a nice little burg- alright. 'Bout half the size of Noo Yark cemetery and almost as lively." So did Mac sum up his succinct verdict onour "last, loneliest, and loveliest" Queen City, and . I ventured a mild protest against the funereal indictment. Mac gazed critically at the ash of the club "seegar" and drank another "chaser" of water neat from the jug "on the side.

Mac is a warrant officer on one of Uncle Sam's floating forts, which is swinging impressively on the waters of the Waitemata. Scot And Engineer. His 'father and mother were as pure Scotch as the "guaranteed product" m the bottle before us. . I had met him. m the bowels of his leviathan, and made a date with him ' ashore when he could obtain leave from his beloved engines, for Mac m the U.S. Navy is an expert engineer as Ms Clydeside sire was before him. He served under Admiral Sims m the Great War, and with a little provocation he warms up, and forgetting his carefully assumed drawl and Americanisms, relapses into language that would pass m Dunedin; the mother tongue of his migrant parents is not far below the surface.

But Mac could not understand the Auckland attitude to him and his mates. He had heard of the fuss we made of old timers when the 190$ fleet dropped m for a week, and they had looked for something much warmer and . effusive: not that he liked it himself, for .the inbred reserve and restraint still makes him a bit clannish, but "the boys" expected it and felt a bit frozen by the frigid atmosphere, human and terrestial, of a little "village." Why, m 190S Japan was Britain's ally, and the Great AVhite Fleet had no significance: since that the Americans had fought and died with us on land, air arid sea — yet no one seemed particularly glad to meet them. Why?

I spoke quietly of the Lusitania, which carried one of Auckland's most prominent and respected citizens to a horrible death, of "foolish words"

about "being too proud to fight," and "frantic boasts" of war-winning capacity. Mac nodded his head dourly, and then spoke quietly but bitterly of his great nation m the throes of "hyphenation" while the world-war for democracy raged. Of a Kaiser boasting to an Ambassador of millions of German-Americans who would never have intervention, and an exasperated Ambassador who reminded the arrogant meglomaniac of an equal number of lamp-posts m the United States ready to bear witness to the will of democracy when a decision was made. Mac mentioned his country neglecting her own industries to furnish the Allies with munitions, machinery, money and food without stint-— — "To corner , the world's gold, they say;" I ventured. "But who has paid us?" asked Mac. "We are heavier taxed . than France, Belgium or Italy,, who drew on us with unlimited credit — and now plead poverty. No .one is » pressing- them to pay, and a referendum back home would sure faVor a 'wash-out' and and start afresh with a clean slate. But forget all this, and wake up to what you and us have to face here and now. You on one. side of the Pacific and us on the other: how long is that stretch of water ' going to be pacific?

We stand for a 'White' America m future, so does Canada: so do you and Australia, but how are you going to stick it? Japan is the rising sun of the Pacific and China is waking up fast. The Bolshy bunch can't get out of Russia's front door into Europe— but her back door at Siberia is wide open into the Pacific, and they are out to help the yellow man to dominate it. Old England is too worx-ied to bother much about a White Australia. or New Zealand. She's only half-hearted about

Singapore and. Ramsay Mac Donald is dead against it. You want to ask, with vs 1 , 'How are we going to keep "white?" ' and -you'll find the best guess you can make is them little packets of ours tied up m your .harbor. They stand between you and the chance of any other bunch bossing the Pacific. That's why you people, m your great little country here, want to can all that silly cackle of years ago and forget^ it. We know sensible and thinking men like you treat it as ignorance and sheer foolishness, and that's why you ask me to your quiet little club here for a social glass and-a series little heart-to-heart talk about these things. The fool who talks bunk about Bunkers Hill or who won ■ the Big War ought to be chloroformed, whether he's one of you or one of us. Will Be Wanted Badly. "Let all us decent ones get together like you and me and understand each other's views: then you'll warm up a bit towards us, and before we say 'au revoir' we'll know we've been real welcome here. Perhaps one day you'll be mighty glad to see us m your harbor again— you may be longing to see us badly. I hope it never comes, but if it does we'll be somewhere handy m the Pacific.".. . \ ! Then Mac chuckled and withdrew his remarks about the resemblance of Auckland to the New York necropolis, and we started on a futile argument about the relative merits of baseball and cricket; foolish, because I don't know a home-run from a home-brew, and Mac didn't know a leg-break from a broken leg, but we both realise that we live on the fringe of the Pacific and want to keep it pacific while we live. — "Aucklander."