28th Maori Battalion Reunion

Tu Tangata, Issue 6, 1 June 1982, Page 20

28th Maori Battalion Reunion

Tawhirimatea, the God of the Elements, demonstrated his unquestionable force in Whakatane on Good Friday, the day which was the opening of the 13th Reunion of the 28th Maori Battalion.

Amidst pouring rain and gale-force winds, the men of the 28 Battalion, ‘J Force, ‘K’ Force, Maori Servicemen from Malaya and Vietnam, and one lone soldier from the World War One Campaign, gathered to reminisce times past, to rekindle friendships and to remember friends no longer with them, and those buried in foreign battlegrounds. In addition to these men were wives, families, widows, and mothers and fathers of ‘Battalion Boys’. A special welcome was also extended to members of the Fijian contingent who came to New Zealand especially for this Reunion. People had journeyed from all over the country busloads from Northland, Auckland, Wellington and the East Coast, to mention but a few; and many cars with families and groups of ex-servicemen pooling in together to get to Whakatane the best way possible. The manuhiri who travelled the furthest were from Te Wai Pounamu. One man, who lives in Invercargill, began his journey on the Monday before Easter, making his way north to meet up with others coming to Whakatane, crossing Cook Strait with his group of friends and arriving at the Reunion Headquarters on Friday morning. A long, long way to travel; but distance cannot be measured in miles alone at times like this. On Thursday evening before the Reunion officially commenced, the atmosphere at the Whakatane War Memorial Centre was one of eager anticipation. The organising groups were there, busy all through the night, and a small group of old soldiers sat together talking about who they hoped would come and whaf they would all do. We

sat and chatted with these dozen or so men as they were engaged in the all important task of testing the liquid refreshments to make sure no-one sustained damage to the stomach during the weekend. In talking with them, the statement which sticks in my mind and perhaps sums up the hopeful expectations of the old mates was: “You just wait and see, girl. The bullsh.. will get bigger and bigger as the weekend goes on.” Outside the wind and rain was not easing up, but inside the only wet was on the inside of the stomach, and the gentle wind was the laughter and joking of old friends getting together and telling the ‘hard case’ tales of those days gone by which brought them all so close together. Activity began On Friday morning the frenzied activity began. Arrivals from early morning, registrations and placements for accommodation. Although there were only perhaps 300 registrations prior to the Reunion, the organising committee was well-prepared for the influx of much greater numbers. Travel weary after a long journey, the first port of call for most was the wet canteen and why ever not, for that is the place were one meets up with old cobbers, catches up on news (as well as tells a few yarns), and has the opportunity to raise a glass to the health of friends. By early afternoon there was no sign of a weather change. So unrelenting was the rain and the driving cold wind, that the official welcome had to be shifted from the magnificient Wairaka Marae on the shores at Whakatane to the stately War Memorial Building in the centre of Whakatane. This was to

be the centre of all activities for the Reunion and it provided a more than adequate and hospitable atmosphere. No matter about the change in plans so smooth was the organisation that, to the visitor and to the on-looker, the change in venue was like a deft flick of the wrist.

Even inside the warmth of the lounge at the War Memorial, one was aware of the downpour outside, and as one of the speakers welcoming visitors to the Reunion, the Mayor of Whakatane, said

“... it is fitting that this Reunion should begin with a tear in the sky and a tear in our eyes”. Not sentimentalist talk sincere and meaningful thoughts to those gathered together.

Most wet

After the official welcome, the journey for most was a short one to the enormous marquee which had been erected on the lawn at the back of the Hall to house the wet canteen during the weekend. The atmosphere was most convivial, with beautiful kaponga lashed to the tent poles and grass underfoot, giving a tropical feeling to the place.

Inside, the warmth of the people contrasted greatly to the cold of the wind outside. A sea of smiling faces and happy groups greeted you on escaping from the elements outside. But calamity struck during the late afternoon when the force of the howling wind was just too much for the strength of the ropes and poles holding up the marquee, and the whole thing collapsed, with ropes flying in the wind, poles crashing to the ground and the hilarious visage of patrons struggling out into the fresh air from beneath a mountain of wet canvas reverently protecting the jug or glass in hand!.

Well, when the house falls down, you don’t cry about it, you get to and put things back together again. And so the re-erection of the marquee began. “All hands on deck!”, like in the old sailing ship days, when men hauling with all their might on the ropes. This was real tug-of-war on a massive scale but alas the wind won in the end. Not easily deterred by such mishaps, the organising committee (with ample assistance from many helpers) quickly and quietly transferred the essential contents from the now completely grounded wet canteen into the Memorial Hall.

Hence Friday evening’s entertainment was not disturbed, and there ensued a cheerful and jovial dance and social evening in the warmth inside.

More sturdy

Although the continuance of the same weather conditions could have deterred some visitors on waking on Saturday morning, I am sure that many

gasped in wonderous amazement at the speedy replacement of the wet canteen by the end of breakfast time. An identical marquee stood erect alongside the position of the devastation of the previous day, looking more sturdy and secure than its predecessor.

Saturday was planned to be a relaxing day, with many tours arranged for the morning, for visitors to have the opportunity to visit the historic landing site of the Mataatua canoe, to learn of the courage of the young woman, Wairaka, who saved the canoe from being swept out to sea with the flow of the river, to visit the cave of Muriwai on the foreshore, and to see the growing town of Whakatane. During the afternoon, many of the participants at the Reunion braved the cold to go down to Rugby Park to watch the match of the weekend Bay of Plenty versus Counties.

Reunion ball

Saturday evening was the Reunion Ball a resplendent function which catered for one’s every want. With all the old soldiers and their ladies in their finery, it was an elegant occasion. Waiters and waitresses attended to the needs of each person individually, and while some groups sat and chatted to friends, others danced the night away. Supper was a most enjoyable and relaxed occasion, with the most magnificent spread a real credit to those who worked so hard behind the scenes all weekend to ensure appetites were well catered for.

Outside the elements were still pounding down upon us all, but again they did not detract from the feelings of happiness and togetherness. One part of the evening that will be especially remembered was the commemorative one minute’s silence, with the lone bugler playing the Last Post in a darkened room with only the reflections from the rotating silver ball, hanging from the ceiling in the centre of the room, twinkling like stars against the shadows of the walls.

Proudly displayed

Sunday dawned a beautiful fine day. What more fitting a tribute to the men of the 28 Battalion and being Easter Sunday as well. Soldiers assembled in front of the War Memorial in Company formation with medals proudly displayed. With Colonel Sir James Henare in command and Company Sergeants with their men, the Parade through the streets began. Pockets of enthusiastic spectators applauded and encouraged the Battalion as they returned to the War Memorial. There waiting for the Parade to march past were the hundreds of families and friends gathered to take part in the Memorial Church service.

Our Lord Bishop, Hui Vercoe, arrived with his pastoral staff in hand, and the Karakia began in the warm sunshine and gentle breeze outside the War Memorial Hall. Such a great contrast to the fierce weather conditions of the previous two days. Wreaths were laid on the Memorial to commemorate those

lost in battle, hymns were sung, and the flag fluttered gently as it was lowered as the Last Post was trumpheted. Heads were bowed in silence but for the response “We shall remember them."

From the powhiri, speeches of welcome and blessing by Our Lord Bishop on Friday afternoon, to the time when visitors climbed aboard their buses and cars to return home on Monday morning, it was a truly memorable occasion. To the ‘B’ Company who hosted this 13th Reunion, we all owe a debt of true gratitude. To the exservicemen, the affiliated women's group, and the many workers who made the weekend run so smoothly your explicit planning and long labouring was extremely rewarding. Those of us too young to remember learned a great deal about real friendship, and those 28 Battalion members who attended the Reunion went home with very happy memories of the gathering. As we sat in our home on Easter Tuesday and talked, laughed and remembered the happenings of the weekend, I am sure that so too did all of those who were there.

The depth of feeling at the hui had to be experienced to be understood. Reunions of this kind are not verbal reenactments of the deeds of war; rather they are a bringing together of long-lost brothers to embrace each other. Their talk is of the ‘hard case' times, and the laughter and smiles on their faces tells it all. Through my young eyes I learned a lot: and there is a great deal to learn. There will be fewer and fewer men of the 28 Battalion left as each Reunion comes along. The people may be no longer with us, the names may fade from memory, but the strength and pride with not be lost with them.