The Last Parade one

Blenheim historian and writer Allen Diamanti shares with Chris Valli memories of his late grandfather, Wakamarina sheep farmer Robert (Bob) Diamanti, who was a corporal with the 10th (Nelson- Marlborough) Mounted Rifle Regiment during the Great War. This exclusive is part two of two to appear in the Sun in the lead up to Anzac Day.

Soon after daylight on the 28th March 1918 the Turkish guns became very active and the Division had little to reply with.

The general attack began at 1330 and was met by heavy fire on all sides, with the front ground providing little cover for infantry and nothing suitable for forward observation points.

The enemy was well placed and the CMR could make no progress against the overpowering fire.

The NZ Brigade suffered very heavy casualties but also caused the enemy great loss. By 1600 hours the front regiment, the AMR, had advanced the line only 500 yards, reaching the low ridges at the foot of a dominating hill. Rain fell and the weather was bitterly cold.

The weather did not stop Bob in his duties, but it was obvious from the outset of the main attack that, with casualties so high, the stretcher bearers would have to work alone to reach the high number of wounded, not only in the front lines, but left out in the field.

but many still alive. Often under the heaviest of shellfire, he rendered sufficient first aid to enable the wounded to fight on or to wait until they could be extricated.

In some cases he had to assist as not all would survive the weather and their wounds until nightfall.

One such time was when he slid into a shell scrape where a badly wounded soldier lay in the mud. He was a mounted trooper who had been shot in the groin.

three-legged race, dodging enemy sniper fire along the way.

He recalled how embarrassed he felt when he later heard he was to be nominated for a bravery medal. There was some irony in the fact that it was for his efforts in saving lives, on the one day that he wasn’t expected to take them.

The skills honed from all those years as a teenager, while stalking pigs and deer back in the bush at home, came to the fore.

He had an excellent eye for the lay of the land and was adept at finding cover where others didn’t see it. He used the heavy squalls and even the mud to his advantage to find the fallen.

All afternoon and into the evening he was able to reach soldiers, some already dead for recovery after dark,

It turned out to be a Marlborough man, a sheep musterer from the Kekerengu, named Dick Thaine. Bob left him and ran down the hill under fire to the front line.

There, he quickly boiled up a “billy” and crawled with it back up the slope. You see Dick was born in Croydon in England, and believed that a cup of tea was the cure for everything.

After consuming the hot sweet liquid he was cajoled into standing up and with Bob under one armpit, the two men zigzagged down the slope to safety like two drunks in a

Suddenly Bob’s reverie was disturbed as the noise level rose with the parade approaching from the direction of the RSA car park. The crowd had swelled, seeming to overflow the Square in all directions. The ceremony began and Bob listened to the speeches, sometimes in deep thought with eyes closed but standing alert when the National Anthem was played.

He felt the flurry of emotion beat at the cage of his chest upon seeing his grandson laying a wreath on behalf of the Army. After the poignant notes of a lone bugler’s “Last Post” faded over the hushed crowd, he sat down to wait with moistened eyes.

When asked by his grandson if he wanted to go to the RSA for a customary drink with old mates, he declined, suggesting it was time for a cup of tea.

Sitting around the table at home Bob eventually removed his medals and proceeded to wrap them up slowly. He carefully placed them back in their place, to sit upon a couple of faded photos and an old tie clip mounted with a gold nugget, a gift from his father on his 21st birthday.

He turned the key to lock the cash tin and said to his grandson:

“I will not be opening this again

- they have all passed on.

“I will be leaving my medals with you, for I know you will cherish and respect what they stand for... to NEVER FORGET.” Despite declining health and the onset of dementia, it was 1979 before Bob fought his last battle - he was never to attend another ANZAC Day Ceremony. The gold-miner’s son, who had fought for our freedom in a foreign land, was laid to rest in the Havelock Cemetery. Once a Pelorus Boy - forever a Marlborough Man.