NZ Memories issue 125

A PPET I SER

Mothering Sunday “ A movement, originating in Philadelphia, is rapidly extending throughout the States to set aside May 10 each year as Mother’s Day. Every man woman and child pledges that day to wear a white carnation – in honour of the best mother who ever lived.”

Otago Daily Times, 6 July 1908.

Max Cryer discusses the origins of Mother’s Day and its New Zealand observance on pages 38 to 41.

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E D I TO R I A L

Dear Readers, Gordon Campbell’s skill at writing early New Zealand material comes to the fore in this issue’s leading article. The fascinating account of Kimble Bent, dating from 1865, will keep you spellbound throughout. Immigrating to the new colony as a settler would have been far preferable, it seems, than travelling courtesy of Her Majesty’s 57th Regiment.

Ever wondered about the origins of Mother’s Day? Max Cryer is welcomed back onto our pages; he offers answers to the topic and expands on how this special day came to be observed in New Zealand. Continuing along the same vein, are there brides amongst our readers who filled a glory box, or hope chest, with linen and household items prior to marriage? Claire Duncan explores the topic and is keen to receive feedback.

Two additional war-related articles appear in the issue. The first tells of a soldier who came back a reluctant hero from the Battle of Crete, and the second relates to a group of five men who did not return home and were certainly not heralded as heroes. The treatment of these five, executed during the Great War, was cause for a long overdue apology by our government. Author Bill Conroy sums up the attitude of the time succinctly: A grand example said the general as he dressed for dinner that night.

“That should persuade the shirkers to stay in the front-line and fight”.

On a lighter note, a number of articles will appeal to the collectors amongst us. If you own an item of millinery by Lindsay Kennett, a piece of art by Enga Washbourn or have a Hornby Train tucked in your cupboard, you may well be able to spin a yarn… but the likelihood of matching the intrigues of Ken Smith’s bracelet saga on page 32 is slim.

Enjoy this 125th Issue and all it has to offer.

Wendy Rhodes, Editor

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CONT EN TS

Editor Wendy Rhodes Photographic Scanning Anne Coath Administration David Rhodes Distributed by Gordon and Gotch

Contents Kimble Bent – Pakeha Deserter

Gordon Campbell takes readers back to the year 1865.

Subscriptions & Enquiries Phone tollfree: 0800 696 366 Mail: Freepost 91641, PO Box 17288, Green Lane, Auckland 1546 email: admin@memories.co.nz www.memories.co.nz Annual Subscription $75 for 6 issues (Price includes postage within NZ) For overseas postage: Add $49.00 for Australia Add $69.00 for Rest of the World Contributors Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, NZ. Anderson, Bruce R. Campbell, Gordon Conroy, Bill Cryer, Max Diamond, J.T. Duncan, Claire Elvy, Dallas Freeman, Robert Goulter, Jeremy Guise, Murray Hart, Janet Hawke, H. Wilson Hill, David History House, Greymouth Hokitika Museum Kennett, Lindsay Moor, Christopher Mort, Margaret Newsham, John Oldfield, Doreen Partridge, Jim Shaw-Miller, Mrs Shaw, June Sir George Grey Special Collections, Auckland Libraries Smith, Ken Spellerberg, Ian Stardome Stuart, Peter J. Sturgess, Tom Suter Art Gallery Te Uru Opinions: Expressed by contributors are not necessarily those of New Zealand Memories.

Accuracy: While every effort has been made to present accurate information, the publishers take no responsibility for errors or omissions.

Copyright: All material as presented in New Zealand Memories is copyright to the publishers or the individual contributors as credited.

Mazon: The Shirt That Fits

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A glimpse into early twentieth century business. From Jim Partridge.

The Glory Box

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Hughie the Hero

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The ‘Hatting’ and Art of Lindsay Kennett

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From the Regions: West Coast

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The Bracelet Story

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My Hornby Train

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Claire Duncan discusses a bygone custom.

David Hill pays tribute to his uncle.

Christopher Moor profiles an outstanding New Zealand milliner.

A curious yarn from Ken Smith.

Treasured memories from Robert Freeman.

Centrefold: The City

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Mother’s Day

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Max Cryer explores the observance of this celebrated day.

For the Sake of Example

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Military discipline during World War One written by Bill Conroy.

From the Regions: Auckland

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Whites Bay Walk

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At the Bay

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Readers’ Responses: The Nightman

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Images of the Past

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Mailbox

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Index and Genealogy List

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Editor’s Choice:

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An eventful outing for an eight-year-old. Dallas Elvy remembers.

Artist Enga Washbourn is the subject of Janet Hart’s article.

June Shaw’s photographs illustrate evolving fashions.

Ascended 750 feet. Shackleton in balloon.

Cover image: A group poses on the truss bridge (built c1920) at Ten Mile Valley.

Courtesyof History House, Greymouth.

ISSN 1173-4159

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April / May 2017

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F E AT UR E

Kimble Bent – Pakeha Deserter

By Gordon Campbell

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F EAT U R E

Followers of the Pai M훮rire religion in Tataroa, Taranaki, hold a ceremony under their sacred niu pole in 1865.

Pai M훮rire (good and peaceful) developed as a M훮ori religious response to disputes over land sales. It combined elements of Christian teaching with traditional M훮ori beliefs. The three flags flying from the niu pole play an important part of the ceremony. A watercolour by Lieutenant Herbert Meade.

Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, NZ. Ref: B-139-014

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F E AT UR E

Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, NZ. Ref: F-021816-1/2.

Kimble Bent in his later years.

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F EAT U R E

H

is torn clothes dripping with water, the soldier crouched in the fern contemplating his next move. His name was Kimble Bent and he was an American who had joined the British army some six years previously. His unit, Her Majesty’s 57th, was posted at the Manawapou Redoubt in South Taranaki.

Their role was to ensure the security of the tenuously held government controlled region of Taranaki against Hauhau rebels. Hauhau belonged to the Pai Marire faith that was started by the prophet, Te Ua Haumene.

It was a faith that combined traditional Mãori religion with elements of the Bible’s Old Testament. Te Ua taught that Mãori were descendants of one of the lost tribes of Israel and that God would restore them to their own land. Ceremonies took place round a niu (news) pole which were often constructed from ship’s masts. Although Te Ua preached peace, his religion was used to recruit rebels, particularly in Taranaki, intent on fighting the government. Redoubts, manned by troops trying to quell rebellion, were built across the province. The Manawapou Redoubt was close to the Tangahoe River which formed a border between the government controlled area and the region under rebel control. Dotted amongst the densely forested hills on the far side of the river were rebel pa of Pai Marire followers.

Bent’s two attempts to cross the river failed when the dark muddy water proved too deep and dangerous, nearly sweeping him off his feet. Exhausted by his exertions, cut and scratched from his crawl back up the bank, he lay in the fern to recover. In the distance he heard the midday mess bugle call coming from the redoubt. It spurred him on in his determination to find a group of Mãori who may be willing to accept him. Climbing higher above the river bank he crouched down amongst the fern that lined a narrow track. Seeing an armed Mãori scout riding along the track, Bent took his chance and stepped into view.

Imagine the surprise the scout, a leading Ngati Ruanui rangatira, Tito Te Hanataua, would have got to be confronted by a wet, dishevelled Pakeha in his ragged soldier’s uniform. Despite being warned that he was likely to be killed if he persisted in his request to be taken to Tito’s village, the tired Bent climbed onto the pony and the pair set off up river, crossing into rebel territory heading for the Hauhau settlement at Ohangai Pa. Bent had decided a number of years before that he was definitely not suited to military life. The interminable drills and being continually ordered about by sergeants and officers had already led to

one unsuccessful attempt to desert in Ireland. This resulted in a court martial followed by three months in prison. An unwillingness to accept discipline and an unsuccessful attempt to get a discharge, had led him into continual minor conflicts with the regimental authorities. It was his refusal to carry out an order to cut firewood that led to Bent being court martialled at Manawapou and given 25 lashes. His cut and bleeding back was evidence of his public flogging.

Bent, knowing that other soldiers had deserted to the Mãori in the past and not been killed, decided to take his chances. It was a risky decision as there was no guarantee he would be well treated by the Hauhau rebels.

Bent’s arrival at Ohangai Pa, on June 12, 1865, caused a lot of excitement. A group of children playing in front of the palisades saw him on Tito’s pony and alerted the men who rushed out of the narrow gateway with their guns and patiti. Bent was apprehensive as he waited while village leaders discussed his fate. It was an ordeal for him, sitting opposite a warrior whose eyes never left Bent’s face and whose “hand twitched now and then as if he were about to flash out a tomahawk”.

Luckily for Bent, after telling the village leaders that he wanted to live with them and would never go back to the army, he was accepted. He was given the Mãori name Ringiringi, and so began a life with the Mãori that would last for the next 40 years. During this time he would serve two owners. He was initially owned by Tito, who had found him, before being given to Rupe, another Taranaki chief, a few years later. Bent was interviewed about his experiences, during his many years with the Mãori, by the journalist James Cowan at the start of the 20th century. He told Cowan that most of his days were spent ensuring there was plenty of food available. Gathering wild honey and edible berries, cultivating potatoes and kumara, snaring kaka, kereru and tui, spearing or shooting wild pigs and digging fern root took up most of his time. Bent also helped cast bullets and make cartridges because the Hauhau were on constant alert for attacks by government forces.

He had few possessions during these years. As he later recalled, “no boots, no trousers, no shirt – just Mãori flax mats to cover me and a mat and blanket for my bed”.

He was Tito’s slave, and though not treated unkindly he knew that he could never refuse to do the work he was put to. Tito had the power of life and death over him and if he refused “there would have been no court martial, just a crack on the head with a tomahawk”. For the first few months Bent was closely watched in case he attempted to run away. He was constantly on the alert against an attack from warriors who resented 7

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Hughie the Hero

By David Hill

O

ne May a lot of years back, my Uncle Hughie became a war hero.

In Hughie’s front hall hung a citation.

Brigadier-General Freyberg was pleased to hear of the award made to Pte Ward H. J. for his “Splendid Deeds” during the battle of Crete.

Hughie never talked about it. But one wet day, when I was a bored teenager, I pestered him till he finally loped off to his bedroom and returned with a box.

Inside was a bronze cross in a laurel wreath, and a scroll which proclaimed that “Paul, King of the Hellenes, has been pleased to bestow on Private Hugh Ward the Bronze Medal of the Order of King George I”.

My boredom vanished. I pestered some more, and Hughie’s story started coming.

He’d been part of the NZ Division under Freyberg, rushed to Greece late in March 1941, as German forces stormed in. Just two Allied Divisions stood against 32 German ones. Hughie recalled days and nights of retreat over mountain passes and across the plains of Thessaly, bombed and strafed by the Luftwaffe.

The Greek Army disintegrated. The Allies plucked King George and Prince Paul to temporary safety on Crete, while 15,000 Allied troops were killed or captured. It was a rout, and Hughie was profoundly unimpressed.

Freyberg wanted to withdraw his New Zealand Division from Crete to North Africa, rather than see it sacrificed in a hopeless defence. But Churchill ordered a stand. One cable to Freyberg claimed, “The island is mountainous and wooded, giving peculiar scope to the qualities of your troops”. As the 21st century might say, “Yeah, right”.

Codebreakers in Britain and agents in Athens warned of an air assault plan. But Freyberg felt a seaborne invasion was more likely, and spread his troops along the north coast. The Greek King and Crown Prince, plus other dignitaries, were kept in a villa five kilometres inland from Suva Bay in the north, guarded by New Zealand troops including Private Hughie Ward.

The night of May 19-20 was quiet, except for German planes bombing the hills in search of British batteries. Dawn came. Uncle Hughie and his section were stood down. Breakfast started, “bloody stew again”. Then – bedlam.

First came the Messerschmitt 109s and Stukas, divebombing Chania and nearby Maleme Airfield. Then the lumbering JU52s and gliders, with paratroopers already dropping. Major-General Kurt Student’s Operation Mercury had 1100 aircraft in the first attacking wave alone. Over 15,000 paratroopers

“Major-General Kurt Student’s Operation Mercury had 1100 aircraft in the first attacking wave alone. Over 15,000 paratroopers headed for Crete…”

From the Evening Post, 19 July 1941

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S TORY

“The King told the New Zealanders to call him ‘George’, and being New Zealanders, they did.”

Hugh and Zona Ward photographed with their children, Bruce and Brenda, in the 1960s.

headed for Crete, most of them veterans of the battles of Narvik and Rotterdam.

Hughie remembered waves of parachutes - red, yellow, white and black - according to units, floating down between the New Zealanders and beach. At the villa, whistles blew, men scrambled for gear, the English Liaison Colonel yelled.

Within 20 minutes, the Greek VIPs and their Kiwi escort were moving into the hills. The plan was simple and apparently impossible. Head south over the 150 kilometre width of Crete to the coast, crossing the 2500metre White Mountains en route, and find the British Navy.

The party of 40-odd knew the Germans would be searching for them. But the only actual opposition came from locals. Many believed the Greek General Staff’s blue uniforms disguised German infiltrators, and the party was constantly sniped at. The New Zealanders fired back, but Hughie didn’t remember anyone being hit - “maybe a few sheep”.

They walked for eight hours, rested, pushed on. The English Colonel and a guide led the way, followed by the VIPs, with the Kiwis guarding the rear. At midnight, they stopped and ate a few goats boiled in kerosene tins.

Radio contact was made with the navy, and the news wasn’t good. They had to reach the south coast by 8 p.m. A rumour spread that only the King and Crown Prince would be taken off, and the rest would have to look after themselves. Once again, Uncle Hughie remembered feeling unimpressed.

Before dawn, they were off again, with 65 kilometres to cover in 15 hours. Everyone was exhausted. The Greek Prime Minister in his formal suit, and King George with sacks tied around his feet, suffered most.

Hughie had lent the monarch his great-coat, and was impressed with the old bloke’s cheerfulness. The King told the New Zealanders to call him “George”, and being New Zealanders, they did.

By 5 p.m. the coast was in sight. The English Colonel announced that the Navy would be taking everyone off. “We could have kissed him,” Hughie recalled. But being Zealanders, they didn’t.

There was a nervous hour on the dark beach. Rifles and bren guns covered an approaching launch, till it gave the right signals. On board HMS Decoy, spotless British officers saluted filthy Kiwis as they stumbled aboard. Then they were off, “like a bat out of hell”, for Alexandria.

Far behind them, German forces had taken Maleme Airfield and began pouring in reinforcements. The Allies withdrew, holding off the enemy with ferocious rear-guard actions such as the bayonet charges at Galatos. Over 6000 were captured. Some took to the hills and joined partisan groups. But more than 21,000 were safely evacuated, including “twenty miscellaneous and a dog”.

In Alexandria, Hughie’s party was confined to the British Embassy, where the King was shown off to media. Hughie recalled with disgust that the New Zealanders weren’t allowed to shave for four days, so they looked more warlike. He remembered with equal disgust how King George’s request for the Kiwis to travel with him to the US as his personal bodyguard was declined.

My Uncle Hughie died in his 70s, sitting in his chair at the Hastings Races. Just one faded photo of him remains. I’ve no idea what happened to the medal or citation.

A decade after his death, we went to Crete for the first time. High on a mountain plateau, a crumplefaced old guy stopped us in a village street. “Deutsch?” he demanded.

“No, no!” we told him. “Neo Zelandi!”

His hands went up in the air. His grin went up to his ears. He waved at the mountains and a spate of Greek cleared every chicken from the street. I understood just two words: “Kiwi....Georgios”. They were enough. n 17

The City A group of officers stand on the steamship City of New York in Otago Harbour. The ship arrived from San Francisco on 20 July 1876 to deliver passengers and mail to Dunedin‌ and David Alexander de Maus did not miss the splendid photo opportunity. The following morning’s edition of the Otago Daily Times listed the arrival of City commanded by Captain G.W. Cavarly.

Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, NZ. Ref: G-012503 1/2

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Whites Bay Walk

By Dallas Elvy

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S TORY

T

he view through the 90-year-old wavy glass windows at the rear of the Whites Bay Cable Station1 framed the distant blue hills forming the rear boundary of Whites Bay. Its highest point, mystical Mt Robinson, stood just out of sight. I longed to walk around this boundary and believed I could do it in one day, even though there were no tracks and the exact route was unknown to me. It was 1955, I was aged eight and was spending a weekend at Whites Bay, situated at the southern end of Port Underwood. My grandfather2 finally agreed to the walk, it would be a good test for the new boots he’d brought me (and the first I had ever owned). I could set out the next day provided I promised to be back by nightfall.

Next morning I was up bright and early. There was a heavy overcast sky and, with no raincoat, I hoped it wouldn’t rain. As I was leaving my grandfather reminded me to return by nightfall and gave me an apple for the journey.

1 The building was assembled just after the first Cook Strait telegraphic cable was commissioned in 1866.

2 Vic Logan

The first section was along a track up the right hand range of hills. I strode along with an incredible sense of freedom; I could at last explore the distant horizon by myself. This track took me to the top of the hill going over the seaward cliffs we called “The Staircase” before going on to Robin Hood Bay. I had just reached the highest point on this track when I noticed something whitish in a clearing just below. Curious, I scrambled down to investigate. It turned out to be a lambskin turned neatly inside out and with the four legs still attached. It was the work of a large wild pig, confirmed by the many tracks left in the vicinity.

I returned to the track, then climbed directly from it up and onto the main ridge, which was the actual boundary between the two bays. From here on everything was new to me. Soon I was able to follow a well-used pig track along the ridge top. It was scrubby and open so the views were magnificent in spite of the low dark clouds. The track had a number of pig wallows and had clearly been used that morning as the surrounding clay was still wet. So I edged around, being careful not to dirty my new boots, and stopped

The Whites Bay Cable Station about the time of my walk. The back door is open.

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CHOICE

Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, NZ. Ref: PA1-o-054-21-1

E D I TO R ’ S

Ascended 750 Feet.

Shackleton in Balloon.

Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, NZ. Ref: PAColl-5800-19

Alexander Tu

rnbull Libra

ry, Wellingt

on, NZ. Ref:

Eph-D-ANTA

RCTICA-190

4-01

The ascent of hydrogen balloon carrying Ernest Shackleton during the British National Antarctic Expedition of 1901-1904 is photographed at Barrier Inlet in February 1902. This inscription is written on the album page beneath the image “Ascent of balloon, at Barrier Inlet. Lat 78.30 S. Ascended 750 feet. Shackleton in balloon”. The second undated photograph, also taken during the expedition, shows a group looking towards the ship and balloon.

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