MAORI SOLDIERS' STORY.

Taranaki Daily News, 4 November 1915, Page 7

MAORI SOLDIERS' STORY.

HAND-TO-HAND FIGHTING. LUiE OUR FOREFATHERS' DAYS. Dunediu, Tuesday. A dozen burly members of the Maori contingent returned on the ship. They were laconic and disinclined to speak of their exploits, as became warriors and the descendants of a warrior race, but nowhere else was the genuine aggressive fighting spirit and love of combat more strikingly evident than in the conversation of these men when once they could be warmed up to narrative pitch. Their eyes lit up. They grinned with pleasure when they told of tight corners, lioree rushes, strenuous resistance. There was no doubt that the game was to their liking. "Like a game of footballf" said one big North Aucklander, with a bullet in his hand, in reply to a suggestion. "Well; a lot better when you get warmed up to it, but war is not much fun for start." He supplemented this information by a description of the manner of his and his comrades' landing. They embarked in open boats and all was plain sailing for 200 yds. or 300 yds. The land appeared quite harmless and gave no indication of the offensive forces that were concealed in it. Then as they neared the shore there were splashes in the water and something clipped away a bit of the woodwork of the boat and one of its occupants fell forward and lay still. They realised that they were having their first taste of the reai thing. There were no false heroics about the manner in which the Aucklander told his tale. "I was frightened," he admitted. "Pale as a sheet," he added, in laughing allusion to his brown cheeks which nothing could whiten. "We were all frightened at the start. Yon couldn't put back, but just had to sit there and wait for it. Well, we got to the shore and it continued. Now and then the shrapnel shell would come along and soon we learnt what to do to dodge that, if possible—throw ourselves flat on our faces and hope for the best. The shrapnel was awful." "The Maoris had a bad run?"

"Well, we lost a good few," he said. "The rest of us were distributed among other unit 3 after our heavy losses on August 6, 7, and 8."

HAKAS FRIGHTEN TUSKS. It seemed that the Maori was a sad puzzle to the Turk. What used to worry the latter was the haka. Anybody who has seen and heard a body of Maoris at "Komata, komata," and the rest of it, will understand what an uncanny thrill it would send up the spine of an enemy to whom it was a complete novelty. When big things were in the air tbc Maoris would raise haka after haka, and the Turks in nearby trenches had surely good excuse for calling out to Allah that cannibals were upon them. The Maoris liked using the bayonet. The hand-to-hand fighting was the thing for them. "It must have been like the days of our forefathers," said the big Maori referred to. "We got our blood up and went right into it, when we had a chance of sticking a bit of steel into them. This sitting and waiting for a bullet or for a chance of firing a bullet, that was not the same thing. Sitting in a boat at the landing and not able to fire back was no good at all. Cold feet on that."

He leaned over the rail, this big brown Aucklander, and scanned the faces of the spectators eagerly. "I am looking for one of our officers who came back before," he said. "Captain Dansey; he was a great fighter. The chaps who knew him at home said he used to fight the way he played football. One day a big Turk jumps up ahead of him and levels a rifle at his head, but Dansey just ducks and goes for that Turk low down, and the bullet goes over his head and the Turk goes to heaven."

DISASTER AVERTED. Bayonet fighting in the dark seems to have been a nasty business. For instance, there was always the danger of mistaking your man in the dark. One night the Auckland Infantry captured a trench well forward and held it. The Maoris, who were behind them, were unaware in the dark that the Turks had been dislodged, and they prepared to launch an attack. The Aucklanders, aware of the mistake, hailed them in explanation; but English, it seems, is common in the Turkish trenches, and —suspecting nothing but treachery—the Maoris held to their determination. Then one of the Aucklanders had the sense to say something in Maori, and the others halted. Could the Turks! have picked up the native tongue? Surely not! Careful reconnaissance was made, and the mistake was discovered, and what would otherwise have been a headlong charge and an awful error was averted. One of the Aucklanders was standing by when the Maori told this story. "Lucky for you you didn't attack that trench," he said, laughingly. "Lucky for you we didn't," retorted the Maori, also hugely amused.

It must be admitted that the Maoris were the only men on the ship who seemed genuinely fond of fighting for its own sake. There was not one of the others who did not strike the observer as being full of courage and a sticker, determined to see it through, but the Maoris said with real conviction: "By jove, I'll be glad to get back. You see, when you get over the first fright it is good fun, especially the bayonet charge. Yes, we want to get into it again."