FAREWELL TO SOLDIERS

New Zealand Listener, Volume 2, Issue 29, 12 January 1940, Page 3

FAREWELL TO SOLDIERS

(By

O. A.

Gillespie

to the soldiers from Trentham when they made their farewell march through the city. It is something I have witnessed twice in a quarter of a century. Twentyfive years ago I marched in khaki to a troopship; a few days ago I walked among the crowds which turned the grounds of Parliament Buildings and the nearby streets into a moving throng. Listening to " the brave beating of a distant drum" and the measured, muffled tread of some thousands of marching feet, is the most emotional thing in the world. If my eyes were wet there was excuseé enough. Twenty-five years ago I enjoyed that march as a prelude to high adventure; now I realise the task ahead for youth so fearlessly responding to an urgent call. multitudes are_the symbol of homage, then Wellington paid high tribute

Light clouds made a shield against the heat of the sun. Voices from _ loudspeakers added to the surge of comment and enthusiasm, rising and falling like waves on rocks unseen. There were no loud-speakers in the last war. Five men conveyed to the soldiers on parade the official farewells of : this young nation-the Governor-General, Lord Galway; the Prime Minister,. the Right Hon. M. J. Savage; the Mayor of Wellington, Mr. T. C. A. Hislop; the Leader of the Opposition, the Hon. A. Hamilton; and, on behalf of .the returned soldiers, the Hon. W. Perry. Then the final march began, through lanes of tiny flags and waving handkerchiefs. Only the space round the War Memorial remained free of ‘humanity, except for one brief space when a tiny fair-haired lad in a blue. blouse took solitary possession, nonchalantly tapping a sandalled foot until a policeman put him to. flight. No glittering bayonets flashed in the sun. No great roar of cheering and applause. The dense throng, which left only narrow ribbons of pavement, seemed as though it were filled with emotion too deep for tears, but one glance at the set faces told a poignant tale. We are not a demonstrative people. But tears did fall-silently. I stood behind a man on whose cheeks the tears slowly gathered, for no man of heart could watch that. parade unmoved. Only the children seemed excited by the spectacle as they fluttered their tiny flags, or as one boy did by sticking a Union Jack down the leg of each stocking and leaping in the air. And if there is a spirit from the past, the returned soldiers revived it. Some of them were heavy with the weight of years and memories. It was a_ forthright gesture that they should lead the parade, at the head of men whose tunics are as yet undecorated, but many of

them are sending sons to carry on the tradition of this young Dominion, just one hundred years old, and the imperishable spirit of 1914-18. Afterwards, when the march had ended with the entraining of the men and the city once more went its normal way, I talked with a man of twentytwo. "That is the most inspiring thing I have ever seen," he told me; "I couldn’t stay out after that." He was on holiday from the southern part of Westland where the majesty of virgin bush and sunsets over the Tasman Sea are familiar sights. I talked, also, with a woman who had sent her sons to the last war and was proud that she had sons to send. "I know they would go again," she said with shining eyes, " but they are still in France."