ANZAC

Waikato Times, Volume 113, Issue 18928, 24 April 1933, Page 4

ANZAC

THE TREES. AN EVENING REVERIE. EYE OP ANZAC (By Captain Alaine.) The westing sun threw level rays across the river, touching the Cenotaph with warm gold; the setting of fair green foliage gladdened the late April afternoon, and the hroad Waikato flowed stately past the Soldiers’ Park, •murmuring its message to the sedge and willow by the banks. I think I was alone in the park. Like those Londoners who have never seen the Tower, I toad never, in all my time in Hamilton visited Hamilton’s loving, living memorial td her glorious dead. Down the path towards the Cenotaph, on every hand the living trees perpetuating the memory of the fallen — oak, macrocarpa, larch, aspen—each bearing the name of one who had fared forth on the Great Adventure, and camped on the battle-field to await God's grand reveille. 1 sat me down on the seat before the Cenotaph, and I dreamed of my own dead I —biding away in the north with the Waikatos—the same awakening. Planked by the living monuments, I seemed to see afar off those of dead wood—rows upon rows of plain wooden crosses! By some curious mental process, my thought turned to Nesbit's beautiful song of the trees, and I repeated in underbreath. “The English oak is a sturdy fellow, He gets his green coat late; The willows are smart in a suit of yellow, And brown the beech trees wait." The lines sang through my brain; amid that wealth of vendure the song lilted itself—- “ What a gay green gown God gives the larches As green as He'is good. . .

and then “You like my Larch, do you?” asked a voice at my side; and I 'rose to my feet, for It was a uniformed Lieuten-ant-Colonel who spoke. “I love them all, sir," I replied, “but just then I was recalling our English trees.” The uniform was well worn: there was the reminiscent stain of that mud which leaves a permanent mark on khaki; and it seemed to me that ■there were yet other stains which do not come out, and which stirred poignant memories.

"All trees are brothers,"' said the Colonel, “and they’re all our brothers, too; we are each of us. . . . (It was Just then I realised that I was not alone in the park. About and among the trees I saw men in khaki; uniforms in all stages of repair and dis-repair; ohevrons from Lieutenant Colonel downwards; spurred and bandoliered artillerymen, web-equip-ped infantry, pioneers, horse, font, guns and train: and it came to l me that these toad fared homeward from the North, away across the world, to stand each by his own tree on the glorious morrow.) “. . each of us ‘standing to’ by his own tree. That’s my larch over on your left. The macrocarpa here—ah! Good evening—” (The name had a French sound) —“And how are your willows this ye&r?” “Fine, sir," said the Lance-Corporal of the macrocarpa. Then to me: “You see, our willows came first to New Zealapd from the grave of Napoleon in Saint Helena, so I and the boys from Akaroa. . . ." And, my fathers being French, I saw with all clearness. The Colonel returned another salute, “Good evening," he smiled, “and how is the sturdy oak this time?” “Never better sir,” smiled the Second Lieutenant. “Haven't you noticed the Victory Branch —how well it looks?" (Continued In next column.)

THE ANZACS. THEY HEARD THE CALL. 1. They heard a call. It fell from England’s lips; She ’twas, who spoke, to whom the Empire kneels, Frqedom—that dazzling daughter of God that heals Man’s deepest; deadliest wound; that wrests her whips Of scorpions from fate’s harsh hand, and slips Into her palm a blossoming branch, whence peals A fairy music, whence soft fragrance steals On soothed sense, and honeyed balsam drips. They heard the call. The godhood hidden deep Within their hearts, by breath of freedom fanned, Blazed in' a sudden glory. Swift their sweep O’er half the world; heroical their •stand Against her foes; magnificent their leap Into the dark at waving of her wand. 11. • Many true sons hath freedom, truer none Than these; and they are ours, whose hearts have bled At sight of their young lives so quickly sped; At thought of all their splendid deeds undone Wherethrough, we dreamed, our lands a place had won Among earth’s peoples, and new glory shed On history’s brave pageant, even led Awhile man’s progress onward toward the sun;

Ours, whose hearts cease to bleed as vision clears. And faith again our shaken being sways; Who. .leaving God the issue of the .years, Dwell proudly on those deathful, deathless days; Exultant mark, though eyes still shine with tears, The tribute of the world’s unending praise. -—Marsyas.

“Victory Branch,” I queried, aside. “Yes,” nodded the young officer “That on the right there, well up the tree. That is where we get the oak leaves for the Victory Ribbons." “You see,” explained the Colonel, “these are the real Victory Leaves — they stand for the mentions in the despatches sent to the hearts of our people. They are always fresh and tender; while those men wear on parade to-morrow. show a little dull and brown from the dust and the stress of long days. Our Victory Leaves are always green, and they are the tokens which the Queen sends to our home folk." (“The Queen?” I thought.) “Tell me, Sir," I asked, "hoyvis it that I am talking with you novy?: Do you greet everyone who' comes to see your trees, or is it only-at Anzac time that. ..." ; “All the year is Anzao time, my friend,” replied the Colonel. “But we walk and talk—we may walk and talk with men on this one evening of the year, and with certain men only—with soldiers who love trees. Saving on this one evening,' the Queen Is the only one here who speaks throughout the year.” “What Queen?” I demanded: and he told me; And this is the reason why, h despite of all regulations, I pluckeo on pay way out of the park a sprig of rosemary.