THE MAORI TOUCH

Bay of Plenty Beacon, Volume 10, Issue 71, 10 January 1947, Page 5

THE MAORI TOUCH

CHIVALRY TO THE ENEMY MIDDLE EAST INCIDENTS Apart from his prowess as a warrior, the Maori during the tortuous process of World War 11. was noted for his chivalry and his good nature, which made it easy for him to forgive, as soon as hostilities ceased. Stories like this will never grow old and can be told and retold Avith singular freshness and interest for those who hear them. Such - were a few experiences related to a BEACON representative by Rev. Wharetini Rang!, of Ruatoki, who as everybody knows was Anglican Padre to the Battalion when it went into action in Alamein.

Venue, a tearoom in Whakatane, when the yarns were retailed over a cup of tea and a brace of local sandwiches. The Padre was careful to explain that the Maori in action, was always a bit of a glutton for more than his share of fight, and during the long period of waiting before the tremendous advance at Alamein, their advance parties were nightly in the habit of probing the enemy’s defences, not only in front of their own lines but reaching into territory on either flank covering other defensive units. Thus a more adventurous group wandered into No-man’s Land in front of a South African sector, and unfortunately were caught by Jerry machine guns and punished severely with many casualties. Swearing deepest vengeance they retired with their casualties, back to their own lines, and begged the S.A. commander to be given the honour of taking the offending Jerry position in the great advance. Being a good S.A. the request was laughed aside, much to the chagrin of the Kiwis.

In due course, the great battle commenced and after the advance, in all the thousands of Jerry and Iti prisoners, none were more rigorously guarded than the sorrylooking handful who were captured by the South Africans in the offending machine gun post. But the Maoris had not forgotten. They sent a polite but firm request for the prisoners to be handed over to them. Fearing the worst, the S.A. commander refused and doubled his guard. The Huns themselves were given a friendly warning that the Maoris regarded them as their special prisoners, and they in their turn regarded the their turn regarded the dusky, gesticulating warriors with something approaching dread horror. Matters were brought to an abrupt head, when a fully armed Maori guard entered the South African compound, and forcibly marched away the twenty odd trembling Jerry prisoners, all of whom were convinced that their last hour had come. Entering the Maori Battalion camp, they found the whole unit drawn up as for parade. Spick and span was every jack man of them. When the downcast Jerries halted, standing in a shabby rank in front of the dazzling show, they were astounded to see a non com detach himself and in perfect and polished English, welcome them as brave and gallant eenmies, and indicate to their wondering gaze a feast of hangi-cooked dishes spread in readiness for them in the shade of some sheltering palms. The senior German officer, stammered some broken words of thanks, and informed his stunned comrades that they were not going to be summarily executed, but made the honoured guests at a Maori feast. And what a feast it was. Beer flowed merrily; toasts flew from side to side, the Jerries discovering an appetite which they never thought they possessed. All was conviviality and good cheer. When the final toast was drunk and the last dish consumed, the same guard (a little less steady perhaps) drew up again, and amidst cheers and good-byes marched the prisoners back again to the compound where they were received by the open-mouthed South Africans.