A dark and chilly morning
A “dark and chilly morning” did not deter veterans, emergency services and community organisation representatives, and several hundred members of the public from gathering at Kaitaia’s cenotaph for yesterday’s dawn Anzac service.
“As we stand here this dark and chilly morning, we do not see the barbed wire,” Rev Michael Withiel said.
“We do not see the guns. We do not see the bayonets. We do not see the trenches. We do not see the terror. We do not see the wounded. We do not see the dead.
“As we stand here this dark and chilly morning, we do not hear the artillery shell. We do not hear the mortar. We do not hear the whistle calling for the attack.
“We do not hear the machine gun. We do not hear the rifle. We do not hear the screaming. We do not hear the wounded crying for help. We do not hear the dying, begging for forgiveness.
“As we stand here this dark and chilly morning, we do not smell the cordite. We do not smell the approaching gas. We do not smell the unwashed bodies of the fighters. We do not smell the blood. We do not smell death.”
In 1916, he said, Riapo Puhipi had led Kaitaia, and indeed Aotearoa, in the search for remembrance (with the erection of Kaitaia’s memorial) of those, sons and relations, Maori and Pakeha, dead or living, from the County of Mangonui who had willingly offered to sacrifice their lives.
“As we stand here this dark and chilly morning, we remember the hurt . . . the fear . . . the loss . . . the sacrifice,” he added.
“As we stand here this dark and chilly morning, we remember them.”