I SAW THE TROOPS MARCH BY

New Zealand Listener, Volume 4, Issue 94, 10 April 1941, Page 3

I SAW THE TROOPS MARCH BY

(Written for "The Listener" by

W. R.

KINGSTON

Y little boy loves military parades with bands, and I am still so much of a small boy that I always turn out on the sidelines myself, but there is something about parades to-day that induces silence. It is not the battledress that does it, because the little boy still likes the show; it’s the deeper realisation that this is the real business of war. One morning in early summer, 1914, my mother woke me about six o’clock to come and see the troops ride by. An Otago mounted regiment which had been in camp at Tahuna Park were riding down to Port Chalmers to embark and just before passing our home, they had to breast a slight rise. The early morning sunlight glinted on their buttons and on the horses’ harness_as their heads came up the hill, then a sharp little trot down the other side, a wave to the children hanging over the gate, and a clatter of hoofs filled our suburban street. After a while, some older girls from next door ran out to get autographs. There was much laughter and jingle of harness as some of the men pulled up. Gallipoli and the mud of Passchendaele were far away in the unsuspected future and bathed in the early morning sunshine that cameo lives in my memory. It had all the glamour and romance of war in the days of Rupert Brooke. In 1941 there is nothing like that, and certainly none of the frenzied singing of "It’s the Soldiers of the Queen" and "Tipperary." I have seen all the parades of overseas troops through Wellington, and every time I have noticed the quietness of the crowds. Individuals call out "Cheerio Jack," of course, but the occasional burst of handclapping and embarrassed cheering only makes the following silence seem more marked. The parade of one Reinforcement was made just after the Army of the Nile started their great advance into Libya. I was standing at the corner of Willis Street and Lambton Quay, but in the crowds in both streets not a voice was raised to cry, "What About Sidi Barrani?" or "On to Bardia." I happened to be in Auckland when the First Echelon paraded, and I must say that they had a really cheery recep-

tion. Of course the war had hardly started then — the Maginot Line was unbroken, our Achilles had just helped to beat the Graf Spee, we were still in the Christmas holiday spirit, and it was one of Auckland’s brightest and hottest days. From about John Court’s we could see the line of khaki come across the top of Queen Street against the deep blue sky, then wind slowly down the hill, The cheering was intense. Very few people had streamers, but I could see that all the others thought it was a good idea and vowed to bring’streamers next time. The next time was of course that wonderful reception to the Achilles men when New Zealanders for about the first time really let themselves go, I doubt if we will see anything like that now until we see the victory parades. For the parade I am now talking about, I chose a position opposite the Wer Memorial in Lambton Quay, but never again. Military bands don’t play while passing war memorials, so the whole parade marched by in utter silence, made all the more acute by the steady crunch, crunch, crunch of their heavy boots and the occasional sharp commands: "No 3 Section, Eyes Right." During this salute, no one liked to cheer or call a greeting. There was only the sound of marching feet as the sons of the Anzacs paid tribute to the fallen of the First N.Z.E.F. before setting out to complete the jobs their fathers had begun. The silent crowds along Wellington streets know and realise that; if they don’t cheer it is only because they are too self-conscious.