HERO’S TOMB

Wairarapa Times-Age, 27 September 1943, Page 6

HERO’S TOMB

NEW ZEALAND SOLDIER IN GREECE TRIBUTE BY THE ENEMY. INCIDENT DURING LARISSA BATTLE. This is a story about a New Zealand soldier in Greece. It was sent to the New Zealand Legation at Washington by the wife of a high placed Greek official in London. New Zealand Army archives cannot find any trace of the incident in the war diaries, but the people in the Larissa area in Greece vouch for its accuracy. On the outskirts of Larissa, along the highroad leading to the aerodrome, passers-by are halted by a freshly dug tomb. No protective stone cross stands over it, but two machine-guns lie crossed on the brown earth and a wooden board placed probably where the head is resting bears the following words carved in German: “Here lies a New Zealand hero. Alone during three hours, with these two machine guns, he halted a whole company.” The desolate plain of Larissa spreads around, once the greenest corner .of central Greece. Drifting birds beat their wings in haste as if conscious of the forlorn surroundings, while at the far end of the mountain, the ruins of Larissa stand out like the key-note of this doleful picture. This is the spot where the New Zealand soldier chose to remain. When orders came to leap in the cars and escape, he decided he would stay. He had been told this was a total war. They were not fighting for Greece or England or New Zealand, this was a war for liberty. So he refused to go, and on the widespread fertile plain of Salonica, unruffled, determined, and alone, he awaited the robbers.

Those who remember the day say it was a' beautiful one, clear and transparent, with the snow-coated peaks of Olympus glittering in the far east. The German armies were racing madly through plains and ravines. They were heading for the British. Assured of a second Dunkirk, they were pursuing them at full speed to the sea . . . Suddenly, unexpected bullets poured on the enemy, a shower of lead from nowhere; taken by surprise, they searched for shelter.

The New Zealander crouched in his trench grasping first one gun and then another, and spreading death around him, butchering the confused Nazis until the remainder turned heels and fled. Soon after the German artillery started pounding the stronghold and 'the young soldier, digging himself deep in the soft earth, waited calmly for his turn. The German guns raised hell and then quietened down. The invader, seeing no sign of resistance, sure of having silenced the enemy position, started marching to the city in solid columns. The New Zealander let them approach his hiding place and then again went blazing away with his guns. Before the Germans were able to fire

their mortars, the New Zealander left his trench. Intent at his reckless game, he crawled along dragging his guns, loaded with all the ammunition he could carry, and struck another spot located in the opposite direction. This time the enemy also changed tactics and sent out a few patrols. These men walked right past the Anzac hiding place. They inspected and explored the land on all sides in the direction of the previous attack, while deep in his hole, covered with shrubbery and branches, our lad was crouching. Slowly and cautiously for the third time, the enemy advanced, and the New Zealander was awaiting him. But the game was getting tough now, he could feel the Nazis were alarmed. He therefore decided on letting the first squads plod past, and when the bulk of the Nazi hordes reached him the young defender of the Salonika plains set firing. . . . But this was his last round. A grenade whistled through the air, burst on the machine-gun position . . . Then all was silent again but for the crying birds and the regular beating of heels as the unmolested Nazis trudged into Larissa. Later the New Zealand warrior was buried on the very spot where he scattered death among the Germans and terrorised a whole Nazi company. The Greek peasants know the place and tarry there. Over their weather-beaten faces they draw a sign of the cross, remembering with admiration and love the wonderful inspiring days when lads of far-off countries, in the name of liberty, fought and died with them on the land of their forefathers.