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Te Ao Hou, December 1961, Page 51

Memories of Italy situations were calmly ignored. The old fire was more restrained and channelled into a more useful purpose. To me this new personality was a direct consequence of the realisation that the battle for peace was not a physical one but rather called for the use of tact diplomacy and finesse. I was also very impressed with the strong feeling of Maori nationalism present among all the speakers at every formal gathering. One's thoughts could not but help straying to those days when these men were facing an enemy determined to exterminate the races of the world in its endeavour to impose the master race upon the face of the earth. Speaker after speaker for instance, hammered the theme of the welfare of the Maori people. Parochialism was forgotten in the endeavour to view the problems at the national level. It is only natural to concede that such ideals can only be expounded by men possessed with true feelings of leadership. The Maori people need not fear the death of leaders. They were there in plenty. In the many who had occasion to debate topics, there was ever present a full consciousness of need for qualities of leaderships, leadership so badly needed at all times. These men were leaders in their respective communities. They tackled their problems as such, they spoke as men of experience, experience backed up by the knowledge gained in peace and war. They impressed as leaders. I say here again that I cannot dissociate Maori leadership from the training ground in the field of war. These men, too, proved that no Maori can best express the innermost feelings of his heart or his hinengaro except through the medium of his mother tongue. It was one of the revelations of the reunion. Many of the speakers whom I first met thirty or more years ago had shown little inclination then to adopt their own language. Yet, here they were, enthralling the listeners with fluent picturesque Maori, passionate, sincere, convincing. One was lifted into the heights of inspiration through the example of these leaders. It was noticeable too that where a question affected the welfare of the people as a whole, the need for solidarity was ever present in the minds of all. Thus it was when the proposition to urge the government to form a separate Maori Unit within the framework of the New Zealand defence system was mooted, wild scenes of enthusiasm broke out. There was no need to debate the question. It was already evident in the unanimous, spontaneous expression of acquiescence displayed that the matter had reached the hearts of all. The men were alive to possible red herrings cast into the combat field by the critics, “Segregation?” queried one ex-commander with heat. “This is not segregation, it is plain commonsense.” He had accurately weighed the feeling of the meeting. “Did not the authorities agree to the formation of Maori Battalion in World Wars I and II? Was it segregation then? Did not Sir Apirana say “Your martial forbears will march, eat, sleep and fight with you?” How best can the Maori people unite itself against a foe except through a fighting unit of its own?” In the last world war, reminded one speaker, a united Maori people gloried in the exploits of their sons, and gave them an inspiration to maintain it, to fill the gaps, even to the last. Would it be wrong to point out, said another,

that the proportion of Maori in the armed forces today per head of population is greater than that of the Pakeha? At least we are fully conscious of our obligation to the defence of the world's ideals? Surely, he concluded, we have proved our right to have our own way in this matter. Thus it was, at the Executive meeting at Hastings on the 28th of July last, the President of the 28th Maori Battalion Association Kuru Waaka, the Secretary, Monte Wikiriwhi and I were delegated to place our case before the Minister. The concluding dinner was a memorable one. Two highlights in my opinion made it so. Peta Awatere proposed the toast to absent friends. We were with him to a man. He struggled, unlike him. We knew why. Ws sympathised, but we souldn't help him, so overcome with emotion we were. We, too, wept as he did. The singing of that evergreen hymn, “Au e Ihu tirohia,” left very very few, if any, dry-eyed men in the hall. We did not finish the hymn. It brought back the memories of those who were present with us only in spirit, whose bodies now enrich the foreign fields in peace. We came away from Rotorua inspired by the knowledge that we had achieved something. That something could well be the strengthening in our resolve to continue to fight for peace through peace.