CHAPTER II. HOW MATENE FAILED TO CONVERT THE LOWER WANGANUI
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CHAPTER II
HOW MATENE FAILED TO CONVERT THE LOWER WANGANUI
IT was in April 1864 that Te Ua, the crazy founder of the Pai Marire faith, despatched his apostle and prophet, Matene Rangitanira, to convert the tribes of the Wanganui River to the new religion.
Now these tribes were divided into two sections, who, although closely connected by blood, lived under separate chiefs, and notwithstanding the fact that they were allied for mutual support against outsiders still, like many European families, harboured jealousies among themselves. There was also this difference between them: the Lower River tribes had from the first always been friendly disposed towards the settlers, or at all events had tolerated them, while the Upper River natives detested the white man, although the latter had in no way encroached on them, nor had they ever had much to do with them, as their country was at a considerable distance from the English settlements, the only means of communication being the river.
The Upper River natives were also, at this time, greatly enraged against the white man and desirous of utu (revenge), on account of the death of one of their principal chiefs, who had been killed the previous year, together with thirty-six of his men, at the storming of Kotikara. Matene, who was a
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member of the Wanganui tribes, arrived in April 1864, accompanied by a party of Taranaki fanatics, at Pipiriki, an important native village situated on the upper waters of the Wanganui River, and began his mission.
At this place Mr Booth, the resident magistrate for the district, dwelt, and although at the moment he was absent in the township of Wanganui his wife and family, together with his brother and his family, were there. Mr Booth was a most popular official with the Maoris, and it is quite possible that, had he been at his post, he might have been able to put a stop to the apostle's preaching before it became too late; but unfortunately he was absent on duty and was much delayed during his return journey by the paucity of water in the river, so that it was the end of the month before he reached Pipiriki, and the evil teaching had taken a firm hold on the natives.
Matene made such good use of Mr Booth's absence that in a few days he had converted the great majority of the Upper River natives and had erected a Niu (Hau Hau worship pole), on which Captain Lloyd's head was suspended, and the tribe's men and women, mad with fanaticism, danced furiously round it. During Mr Booth's slow progress up the river the reports he received at every village he passed grew worse and worse, while at Hiruharama the chiefs begged him not to go on, as they warned him that the people farther up had joined the Hau Haus and were all stark raving mad. Mr Booth, however, was grit right through; his brother and their families were in direful danger and he considered it to be his
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duty, both as a relation and also as an official, to risk everything in trying to save them. He therefore pushed on, trusting to his great influence and friendship with the principal chiefs and tribes to pull him through, so as to enable him to save his brother and their respective families.
On his reaching the landing-place at Pipiriki he immediately saw that whatever influence and friendship he may have, at one time, held over the people was a thing of the past, as, instead of the shouts and songs of welcome by the women, and the gladful rush of young warriors to haul his canoe up the bank so that he could land dryshod, all the population lined the high river bank, making hideous grimaces at him and howling like a lot of wild beasts.
Giving up all hope and expecting immediate death, Mr Booth sat quietly in his canoe waiting to receive it with the calm courage of a British pioneer, when suddenly a young but important chief, Hori Patene by name, forced his way through the crowd of yelling savages and, jumping into the canoe, started to tangi (shed tears of welcome) and rubbed noses with him. When this ceremony was over Hori persuaded Mr Booth to go home, and although he fully expected to be cut to pieces every yard of the road, still accompanied and protected by the gallant Hori, he succeeded in reaching his house, where he found his wife and children more than half dead with horror and fear, expecting to be tortured and brutally murdered every minute. No sooner had Mr Booth reached his house than Hori started off and crossed the river, returning with Mr Booth's brother and his
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family, so that all the whites might be together, under his (Hori's) protection, or, if the worst came to the worst, they could all die in company.
It was now sunset and the Hau Haus began their devotions, and, as the Niu had been erected in front of Mr Booth's house, the unfortunate inmates could not help seeing the awful cantrips nor hearing the foul incantations. Huge fires were lit, and by their light hundreds of men and women, in parties of about fifty at a time, danced round the pole on which hung poor Captain Lloyd's head. Starting slowly and with low-pitched but deep voices they began to chant the mystic words, Hau Hau Pai Marire, while circling round the ring; but gradually, as the spirit got hold of them, they put on the pace until, like a mob of drunken demoniacs, they leaped, stamped and cavorted round the Niu with foul, indecent gestures, grimaces and contortions of body, far beyond the conception of an ordinary human being, while the mystic words were howled out at the top of their gamuts, so that they resembled a hideous phantasmagoria such as might be seen by a lunatic suffering from a bad dose of d.t.
Hideous and disgusting as the contortions of the men were, those of the women were worse; for no sooner had the spirit entered into them than in their mad gyrations they leaped at the suspended head, trying, with their teeth, to bite and worry the smoke-dried flesh and hair of the unfortunate officer; and this they continued to do until at length, foaming at the mouth and worn out with their crazy frenzy, they either staggered from the ring or fell in convulsions on the ground, to be dragged away by
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the next batch of worshippers who were anxiously awaiting their turn. And this awful pandemonium went on all through the night. Just think, my home-staying countrymen and women, who sleep in peace under the guardianship of our splendid police, what must have been the feelings of those English ladies and men who, with their helpless children, had to witness such scenes, knowing and fully expecting, as they did, that at any moment they might be dragged out and, after they had all been subjected to prolonged torture, should then be brutally murdered, with every barbarity and indignity that fiends could invent or devils could inflict.
During the night a council was held and Mr Booth could hear the Taranaki men who had accompanied Matene urging the Wanganui to torture and kill himself and family. Nor did the latter seem to want such urging, as of all his whilom friends only Hori and one other man spoke on his behalf, contesting right manfully that the honour of the Upper River tribes would be for ever disgraced should the white people not be allowed to depart in safety, as they were tribal guests. For two more days and another night the unfortunate whites were kept in suspense, Hori and a few other young chiefs, whom he had persuaded to join him, standing between the would-be murderers and their prey. And these noble young savages eventually saved them.
It was near sunset on the last of these days, and after a very stormy meeting had been held, that Hori rushed into Mr Booth's house, saying: "At last they have consented to let you go. Come at
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once; leave all your property to me; for they may change their minds any moment." Immediately they jumped up and followed him down to the canoe landing-place. En route they had to pass through a swarm of armed Hau Haus who had lined the high river bank, and while doing so Mr Booth heard some of them say: "Wait till they get into the canoe and then we will fire a volley so as to shoot them down in a heap." Hori overheard the same remarks and said to Mr Booth: "Take no notice of them. Go slowly until you are out of sight; I and my friends will keep in the line of fire between you and the Hau Haus." This the gallant young fellow did, and, as the murderous brutes dare not run the risk of killing a Wanganui chief, Mr Booth and his party paddled out of shot and reached the township of Wanganui safely the following night.
The above yarn is a true though short narrative of one of the numerous attempts made by chivalrous Maoris to protect helpless white men from the blind, ferocious fanaticism of Te Ua's prophets. Alas! it was one of the very few successful ones, though many brave natives lost their lives and suffered torture rather than give information to the Hau Haus as to the whereabouts of white fugitives. Surely their names and actions should be remembered.
Immediately after Mr Booth's escape Matene and the Taranaki Hau Haus persuaded the tribes of the Upper Wanganui to attack, with the intention of utterly destroying, the white settlers and thriving township of Wanganui, situated close to the mouth of the river, and at once all hands turned to, to prepare their war canoes for that purpose. Before,
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however, starting on this expedition, they sent ambassadors to their relations, the Lower River natives, so as to inform them of their purpose, and ask for their co-operation; announcing at the same time that, should their relations not care to join in and make a family party of the expedition, they (the Upper River natives) would still carry out their programme--viz. descend the river and wipe out every white man, woman and child in the district!
These emissaries, arriving at Hiruharama, a village that may be called the frontier post of the river tribes, delivered their cheeky message, which to the recipients was intolerable, as the Lower River tribes claimed the right-of-way on the river to the westward of Hiruharama, and although it had been frequently attempted in times past, no war party had ever, up to date, succeeded in forcing a passage, and none ever should succeed, so long as a Lower River native warrior could handle musket or swing tomahawk. This being the well-known determination of the Lower River tribes, the chiefs at Hiruharama returned an evasive answer to the Hau Haus, at the same time despatching a fast canoe downstream, so as to warn all their friends of the threatened eruption and give the tip to the white men of their imminent danger. Then, not being in sufficient strength to withstand the brunt of the encounter, the village was immediately abandoned, all the inhabitants retiring downstream, collecting en route the people belonging to the pahs Kanaeroa and Tawhitinui; but on reaching Ranana they halted, being joined at that place by the bulk of the warriors of the Lower River. Close to Ranana was the island of Moutoa, a classic
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battle-ground, every square yard of which had been drenched with blood, shed in old-time wars, and on this island they determined, should their relations attempt to carry out their threats and try to force their way down the river, to resist them to the last gasp. In the meantime the Hau Haus, uncertain as to what sort of reception they would receive, were cautiously descending the river, and as they found every village deserted they halted at and occupied Tawhitinui, which was situated some two miles above Ranana and on the other bank, and from this place opened negotiations with their relations.
The last few days had been passed by the white population in consternation almost amounting to despair. The outlying farmers and settlers, abandoning homes, stock and everything they owned, rushed into town, where each man anxiously asked his friends: "Can we trust the Lower River natives?" "Will they become converted and join the Hau Haus?" "If so, what then?" True, they possessed one great factor in their favour, and that was the firm and undeviating friendship of old Hori Kingi Te Anaua (the paramount chief of the Lower Waikato), whose name should be remembered and treasured by every white man, woman and child on the west coast of New Zealand. For when the first settlers landed at Wanganui, Hori, then the most renowned warrior on the coast, had taken their leader by the hand, and declared himself to be the friend and protector of the white man, and this promise the pagan cannibal warrior carried out both in letter and spirit till the day of his death. But then, alas! Hori by this time was a
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very old man, and although the glamour of his great deeds enveloped the aged chief like a halo, and his people regarded him as a being something more than human; still, taking into consideration the astonishing way the crazy Pai Marire faith had been accepted by the Upper River natives as well as by many other tribes, it was very doubtful whether old Hori would be able to restrain them at such a crisis. Moreover, all the Lower Wanganui natives were strong supporters of the Maori King movement, and many of their important sub-chiefs, especially Mete Kingi Te Anaua, a chief only second to Hori in influence, hated the white men; so that the settlers may well be pardoned for their consternation; as, in case the Lower River natives saw fit to join their relations and become Hau Haus, even should they (the settlers) successfully repulse the combined native attack, and save their own lives, still the township and all the outlying farms must go up in smoke. They therefore made what preparations they could for defence and anxiously waited the termination of the native runanga (meeting). As I have previously stated, the Lower River tribes had massed at Ranana, the Hau Haus occupying the adjacent pah Tawhitinui, and on 13th May 1864 the prophet Matene, with a numerous deputation of his newly made converts, paddled over to Ranana to open negotiations.
Now it is quite possible, nay, even probable, that had Matene opened the proceedings of the runanga with prayer and incantations, as does the British House of Parliament, he would have succeeded in converting the opposition party and so have gained his nefarious ends; but this he did not do, as no
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sooner had the deputation been announced than Matene issued this insolent ultimatum--viz. that they (the Hau Haus) were determined to descend the river, peacefully if allowed to do so, but otherwise would win through by force. Whoop, hullabaloo, that ultimatum, short as it was, upset the fat into the fire and brought Haimona, chief of the Ngatipa-Moana and a mighty fighting man before the Lord, on to his feet, who replied: "Och it's force the river ye'll be after, is it? Well, divil a drop of it ye'll mix wid yer whisky beyand the island of Moutoa; mind yez that, ye black-advised, audacious Hau Haus; but av it's a fight ye want, sure there's that same island Moutoa, that's moighty convanient, and maybe ye'll not want to go furder whin we've finished wid ye; so come on now, M'Matene, Esq., an trid on the tail of me mat, ye ruddy heretic, or get back to the ould Te Ua, an' may the cuss of Cromel rest on him and his Pai Marire monkey tricks."
Now, as I am trying to be a truthful narrator, I am bound to confess that the above is not a verbatim report of the oration spoken by Haimona, although the sentiments expressed in it are exactly similar and both contained a direct challenge; which challenge was immediately accepted, and as there was nothing further to squabble about, both parties went into committee to amicably discuss the coming fight, settle the details and sign the articles, which were as follows:--
1. That a fight should take place the following day on the island of Moutoa. 2. That the freedom of the right of road on the river should be the stake. 3. Seeing that the combatants were closely connected by blood relationship as well as by alliance,
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and that it would be bad policy to weaken the fighting strength of the combined Wanganui tribes by indiscriminate slaughter, it was therefore agreed that only 100 men a side should take part in the combat. 4. That as the Lower River natives were the owners of the island, they should land on the lower end before daylight. That the Hau Haus should land at the top end at daylight and that their disembarkation should be unopposed. 5. That both sides bound themselves to refrain from all ambuscades, tricks or trickery, but were to meet and fairly fight it out to the bitter end.
Next morning at grey dawn 100 picked men, of the Lower River tribes, were ferried over to Moutoa, landed and arranged themselves in order of battle, divided into two companies of equal strength, and each company was told off into three subdivisions, these being led by renowned warriors. The leading company or van was commanded by Tamehana Te Aewa, who was also C. O. of the whole outfit, who had under him Hemi Napi as leader of the right subdivision, Riwai Tawhitorangi leader of the centre and Kereti of the left. The supporting company was commanded by Haimona, but, through an error in tactics, it had been located 200 yards in rear of the van, a distance far too great for men armed with double-barrelled guns to render effective aid; and this error nearly caused disaster. To the tick of time the Hau Haus disembarked at the top end of the island but, alas! their pristine chivalry had been already tainted by their infernal religion, as they landed 130 men instead of the stipulated number, which was not cricket. They had also a powerful moral factor in
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their favour--viz. they (the Hau Haus) believed themselves to be invulnerable, while most of their opponents more than half believed the same thing, so that, notwithstanding their splendid courage and determination, very many of the latter considered themselves to be hopelessly handicapped in having to fight against men who were aided by angels. This nervousness must have increased as Tamehana led the leading company on to the attack, for when within thirty yards of the Hau Haus the centre and left subdivisions fired a volley, of which every bullet flew wide, not one single Hau Hau being hurt; of course this vile shooting had the effect of confirming the fears of the Lower River natives and exhilarating their opponents.
The latter made haste to return the volley, and just as they did so a Roman Catholic lay brother rushed in between the combatants, exhorting them to terminate this fratricidal strife. Poor devil, he met with the end that many men who interfere with family jars do meet with, as the volley finished him off before he could finish his first argument; and it has often been a matter of speculation to me as to whether he was a martyr or only an interfering busybody. This same volley also was a most disastrous one for the Lower River natives: Riwai and Kereti with many of their men fell dead, while the survivors of their own subdivisions, disheartened by the loss of their leaders, and now fully convinced of the invulnerability of the Hau Haus, broke their ranks and fell back in disorder. Hemi Nape and his men, however, refused to fly and in a few moments proved that at all events some of the Hau Haus were far from being immortal, much less invulnerable.
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Fine fighters Hemi Nape and his boys, were and well they bore themselves, but alas! how could they, less than twenty in number, withstand such overwhelming odds? --so that though they fought like fiends incarnate still they were driven back and must have been quickly wiped out. Help, however, was at hand, for suddenly old Tamehana Te Aewa, with the roar of a wild bull, threw himself into the vortex of the combat and, begorra! he made things lively. You see, when the centre and left subdivisions gave way he tried to rally them, but failing to do so he returned alone to the fight, so as to throw in his lot with the lads who scorned to fly. Just at the moment he arrived Hemi had ordered his men to take cover, but that did not suit Tamehana, who charged the Hau Haus like a whirlwind and killed two of them with a clean right and left; then, throwing away his empty gun, he picked up a spear dropped by one of the dead men and drove it through a third one's body, grabbing, as the dying man fell, his gun and tomahawk. The gun was unfortunately not loaded, but he made use of it by braining a fourth man with the butt and then sank the blade of the tomahawk so deep into a fifth man's skull that as he tried to wrench it out the tough handle went to splinters; Immediately he seized his last victim's gun and was about to use it when a bullet struck him in the arm, and he had just time to shoot the man who had wounded him when another smashed his right knee to pieces and put a termination to his day's sport. When he fell the Hau Haus made a rush to finish him off, which rush was met by a counter-charge of Hemi Nape's men, who, although
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they were all wounded, determined to die rather than allow old Tamehana to be killed or captured. Led by Marino, Hemi's son, for Hemi himself had been shot dead a moment before, they threw themselves on the Hau Haus and made such a determined stand that it gave time to Haimona with his supporting company to come into action.
This grim old warrior had been originally posted too far in rear of the van and had lost some time in rallying the fugitives, whom he tongue-lashed out of their cowardly nervousness, his endeavours being helped by the scornful yells and entreaties of the men and women spectators, who, mad with excitement, watched the apparently lost battle from the bank of the river. Then promptly adding the whilom runaways to his own party, he rapidly advanced to make his effort. There was no fear now of the late fugitives turning tail again, for nigh crazy with shame and contrition, they would far sooner face a thousand deaths than be branded as cowards through the length and breadth of New Zealand.
Deflecting his advance to the right, he cleared the expiring struggle in which the remnant of Hemi's men were still dying hard, and then by a quick change of front to the left he outflanked the Hau Haus and at close quarters poured in two death-dealing volleys that decimated the fanatics. Then without a moment's delay "out tomahawks" was the order and, led by Haimona himself, the newcomers rushed madly into the fray. Immediately the aspect of the combat changed. Up to this time the Hau Haus had had much the best of it, but now fickle Fortune turned her back upon them and
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old Tamehana's bearsark rush, together with the glorious stand made by Hemi Nape's men, were to reap their reward; as from the moment Haimona's party took a hand in the game the Upper River natives had to fight, not for conquest, but for their lives. The volleys they had received had killed several important chiefs and many men, while the furious charge of Haimona's party on their left flank all but routed them; still they were Maori warriors, as brave as any men on earth, and although broken and confused they turned to meet the attack with the greatest courage.
Now began the last phase of a fight that Homer himself would have loved to sing about. Howling for blood, Haimona's men rushed into hand-to-hand combat. Both sides had discarded their guns, both sides ceased from yelling as they came chest to chest, but the tomahawks gave out a sharp click, as they clashed against one another in the air, that provided the alto part to the sickening scrunch of the inflicting wound, the guttural grunt of the wounder and the sobbing groan of the wounded. Faith! it was a fine fight. The impetuosity of the desperate charge bore the Hau Haus backwards, and in spite of their furious efforts they were forced to continue the retrograde movement, for the Lower River Maoris, fighting as they were with their tribesmen and women looking on, outdid their best, while the men who had previously fled, madly anxious to obliterate their shame, and who, careless of wounds and death, only strove to kill, fought like demons. The Hau Haus were therefore steadily driven back, and as the bloody tussle continued they at last reached the shore of the island, when,
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unable to make a stand, or retire farther, those that remained on their feet were forced to plunge into the rapid current and attempt to escape by swimming. Of these but few reached the opposite bank, and of those who were lucky enough to do so twenty were captured by Mete Kingi, who, with 350 Lower River warriors, had watched the fight.
The end of the prophet Matene brought the whole show to a tragical finale. He had fought bravely through the fight; for, as it is only right to give the devil his due, I may here state that all of Te Ua's prophets were game to lead any cracked-brained exploit they might have persuaded their misguided disciples to undertake, and consequently vacancies frequently occurred in the apostolic ranks. Well, Matene was still alive when the remnant of his men were forced into the river, so he had to frog it with them, and was swimming away for all he was worth when the eagle eye of Haimona spotted him. The chief turned to his aide-de-camp, Te Moro, and handed him his bone mere (a short battle-axe made out of whalebone and greatly used by the natives before the introduction of steel-bladed tomahawks), at the same time pointing out the fugitive and remarking: "There is your fish." In plunged Te Moro, who, swimming rapidly, overtook his prey and grabbed him just as he reached the bank. In vain the prophet tried to save himself by his incantations: "Hau Hau, Pai Marire. Hau----" He gasped the remainder of his discourse, being interrupted by a smashing cut from the mere, and Te Moro swam back, towing the dead body, which he threw down at Haimona's feet.
The fight being over, it was now necessary to count
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the cost. Out of the 130 Hau Haus who had landed 70 lay dead, 20 badly wounded and 20 were prisoners, all the balance, with the exception of one who was known to have made his escape, being probably more or less disabled, were drowned. The loss of the Lower River natives was 16 killed and 50 badly wounded; so that it may be called a very good fight indeed, second only to that remarkable combat between the two Kilkenny tom cats-- but then they were Irish, you know.
The result of this family fall-out effectually saved the white settlers, as, in the first place, it put a limit to the spread of the Pai Marire religion on the Wanganui River and prevented the Lower River natives from casting in their lot with the Hau Haus, which, probably, they would have done had Matene approached them in a conciliatory manner instead of rubbing them up the wrong way, by threatening to force the right-of-way on the river. The township was saved, as were also the outlying farms and much stock, and the settlers showed their appreciation of the Lower River natives' gallant conduct by attending en masse the obsequies of the chiefs and warriors killed in the fight. This side show, as one may call it, to the general war that was then raging all over the country was kept up in a desultory sort of way and ended in so quaint a manner that I think I may be pardoned for relating the facts.
After the gentle passage-at-arms on Moutoa, the discomfited, but still bigoted, Upper River natives retired to their own country, halting when they reached Ohotahi, a pah situated higher up the river but close to Hiruharama. Here they fortified
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themselves, being allowed ample time to do so by their chivalrous opponents, as it would have been bad form and quite foreign to Maori war etiquette for one enemy to attack another until the defenders had made everything ready for their assailants' reception. It was therefore not until February 1865 that a strong party of the Lower River Maoris, under the command of Honi Hipango, advanced up the river and commenced the siege. At the first Honi gained some advantages, and a few men were killed on either side, though much time was lost in ceremonious sparring; but at last they really got to work, and Honi was preparing to rush the place when he was mortally wounded. His death enraged his men, and the final charge was moving forward when a woman came out of the gate, waving a white flag; she was quickly recognised as being the wife of Pehi Turoa, who in reality was the great ancestral chief of both sections of the Wanganui tribe. The appearance of this aristocratic old dame at once caused an immediate cessation of hostilities, the firing ceased, and both sides, quitting their shelter trenches, met together, squatted down and commenced an elaborate tangi (ceremonious weeping), in which they mutually bewailed the killed on both sides; for the reader must remember that both factions were closely connected by blood.
The Lower River natives were now on the horns of a dilemma; eighty Hau Haus were at their mercy, among them being Pehi Turoa himself, and these unfortunates should, by all the rules of the game, be at once immolated as utu for the death of Honi Hipango, Esq. But it was impossible for them
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to slaughter, in cold blood, their own relations; neither could they make their own kinsmen prisoners, especially old Pehi, for that would smother themselves with dishonour, as it would degrade their own great hereditary chief and a number of their own blood relations to the status of slavery, which would entail shameful ignominy on the whole of the Wanganui tribe. What then should be done with Pehi and his party? It was a very hard nut to crack, and all hands went into committee to solve the problem, which was at last done in this way, Pehi himself being the fount of wisdom from which the adopted suggestion emanated:
The old chief propounded that whereas, for reasons stated above, it was inexpedient that himself and party should be knocked on the head, or degraded to slaves, the only other course open was to let them go; and that, as it was unseemly for warriors to promenade around the country unarmed, it would be necessary for them to take their weapons with them. And to this suggestion both parties gave a cordial assent.
A treaty was therefore made in which both factions resolved that they would allow no religious rancour to disunite again the Wanganui tribe, and that although each party retained the right to fight on the side of either white man or Hau Hau, yet that said fighting must be enjoyed outside their own country: and this compact was honourably kept to the end of the war. Up till 1869 the Upper River natives as a whole sat tight, then joined us so as to exact utu on Te Kooti for the murder of one of Turoa's relations. The Lower River natives became our most staunch allies, for being men of discernment they quickly tumbled to the fact that
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it was far more humorous and better sport to fight their old-time enemies, the Taranaki Hau Haus, and draw pay and rations while enjoying their favourite "divarsion," than to stay at home, or, like their misguided relatives, dance round a pole and howl, "Hau Hau, Pai Marire."
I think before I terminate this yarn I may tell you about a rather quaint incident that happened during the siege of Ohotaki, and as it portrays an idiosyncrasy or trait in Maori character you will pardon my doing so.
Well, one night a party of Lower River natives attempted to surprise an outlying detached post they knew to be weakly held. They crawled up to the place, and were about to rush it when a woman's voice called out: "Take care what you do; Te Miere and Te Mokena are here"--these being the names of two aged men at that time quite past fighting, but who, in their prime, had been mighty warriors of great and bloody renown. At once the storming party retired, for to have captured a place the garrison of which contained two such notable veterans would have injured the prestige of both parties in the eyes of the fighting population throughout New Zealand.
